#before anyone saids “it’s fiction” your boring lol

[no1ryomafan]

I think the funniest trope I love that’s universally in almost every robot centric media from what I can tell is the trope of the robots being resistant to water. Like they can either stand in the rain or literally be thrown into the ocean and be fine. I know we’re at the point with actual technology where water resistance is more common and I understand in a story a robot shouldn’t have such a basic weakness-them being reprogrammed in any capacity or damaged heavily is more drama filled then them malfunctioning from being wet-but it makes me wonder what the fuck the technology is in these stories if you have robots that don’t actually breakdown after being exposed to so much water in their systems.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

If you haven't already, could you do something where ghost first meets f!reader? Like super cute love story, how it began maybe also how it's going? (can include smut if you're willing love a good smut lol) I'm so down bad for the cuteness overload because I'm waiting for my own Prince Charming 😩

It was a rainy, miserable day in Manchester, and Simon was growing increasingly bored. He'd been home from deployment for a few weeks now, and the pile of books he had waiting for him at home had long been read, leaving Simon with nothing to do.

Deciding against his better judgement, Simon left the comfortable anonymity of his home, and walked to the local bookstore located two blocks from his small English flat.

It was a spot he always visited when he was home from deployment. The little old lady who owned it was always so nice to Simon, and would always set aside books she knew he'd like.

"Hey Barb." Simon greeted in his gruff British accent, smiling at the woman behind the counter as he walked in.

"There he is, I was wondering when you'd come back home, solider. Got a few books set aside for you, but we've updated our inventory, why don't you take a look around?" Barb smiled warmly at him, gesturing to the abundance of shells laid sporadically throughout the small store.

Simon nodded politely to her, a small smile dancing on his lips as he made his way to one of the shelves. The shelf he always started with, Science Fiction.

The minute his eyes landed on it, he knew he had to have it. He'd been looking for a first edition "Dune" for a long, long time, and here it was just before him. He was so tunnel visioned, so solely focused on the book, he hadn't noticed a small hand reaching for it at the same time he was.

His hand grazed the other persons, and he quickly pulled himself from his daze, looking over and finding you, and Simon could’ve sworn his heart stopped right then and there. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and the small giggle that emitted from your lips as he stared at you caused his cheeks to burn crimson.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't notice anyone else was here." Simon murmured, his voice coming out shaky. Damnit, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't worry about it. I didn't notice you were going for the same book.” You replied, your cheeks now as red as his.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, your eyes still lingering on one another’s, as you were both clearly flustered in the moment.

“Uh, go ahead and take the book, it’s yours.” Simon gestured to the shelf.

“No, no it’s really okay. I’ve read the damn thing at least a half dozen times, I don’t need another copy.” You insisted, taking a step away from the shelf.

Simon grabbed the book, and handed it to you with a smile, as he slowly found his confidence. “Please, take it.”

“If you insist..Have you read it before?” You asked, your head tilting slightly in curiosity. “I’ve not met a lot of people who’ve read it.”

“Not as much as you it seems, but I’ve read it a few times. It was my moms favorite book.” Simon said sheepishly, his mind wandering to thoughts of his mother. “It’s an amazing series, I just wish I had more time to read it.”

“Not enough free time?”

“Never enough free time.” Simon chuckled.

“If that’s not relatable, I don’t know what is. I’m a teacher, over at the university. It seems the only free time I get I’m grading papers, or I’m here with Barb looking at the new books she puts out. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’ve not seen you around before.”

“Simon. I don’t come here terribly often. I'm on leave at the moment and I’m due for a book restock. Teacher huh? What do you teach?” He replied, his eyes drifting back towards yours.

“English, funny enough. So you’re a soldier then?” You asked, your interest in the handsome man before you increasing.

“Something like that.” Simon said, his insides melting as he watched you watch him intensely. Simon wasn’t good at small talk, but he was trying his hardest for you. He didn’t want this conversation to end.

The two of you continued to talk for a few more minutes, the conversation ranging from the weather, to how long the both of you had been coming to this little book store, to your shared interest of science fiction.

“Well, I hate to break this up but I’ve got class in 20 minutes and my students will never let me hear the end of it if I’m late.” You said, not wanting the conversation to end. "It was really nice talking with you."

"Yeah, you too." Simon said, his confidence wavering slightly as he failed to come up with anything else to say. He desperately wanted to ask you for number, but didn't have the nerve to do so.

"I'll ask one more time, are you sure you don't mind?" You asked, holding up the book in your hand. " I feel bad it's the only copy here."

"Of course." Simon nodded, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Besides, it's probably better off in your hands. I'd honestly never get around to reading it, so it'd be more of a table piece."

You nodded, flashing him a warm smile. "Well it was lovely meeting you, Simon. I really hope to see you around here soon."

"I'd like that." Simon agreed, watching as you walked to the front, the smile on his face not faltering in the slightest.

Simon continued to stroll amongst the shelves, nothing quite catching his eye as his thoughts drifted back to you. He regretted not getting your number, and letting his nerves get the better of him. He could only hope that he'd see you in here again. Perhaps he'd make a few more trips here before his next deployment.

He made his way back up to the desk, anxious to see what books Barb had set aside for him. She always knew just the right books for him.

"The woman that was just here left you this." Barb said, passing something to Simon, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Seems you've made quite the impression on our little English teacher."

Simon looked down at the counter, and saw the book he thought you'd left with, and found a small note attached to the front. 'Enjoy the table piece. If you’re interested, I’d love to discuss the book over a tea- Y/N' Simon felt his heart flutter as he re-read your note over and over, his eyes falling to your phone number, neatly written at the bottom of the note.

"Sounds to me like you've got yourself a date, young man." Barb said, meeting Simons eyes with a smile.

"I believe I do." Simon replied, fumbling to put your number in his phone. And he couldn't fucking wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Planning on making this a multi parter? Or just leaving as is- I've not decided yet.

[mhsdatgo]

To the point about Rhaenyra being boring, it continues to elude me why the producers, writers, and directors decided they needed to humanize Rhaenyra by downplaying if not outright removing her worst traits. That’s not humanizing, that’s sanitizing.

There are plenty of female characters that exist in fiction who are frustrating to morally ambiguous, to completely evil but still have their fans and are beloved, or at the very least compelling. The comparisons to Shiv Roy from Succession already exist, so I won’t belabor that point, but look at other shows like Mr. Robot, Better Call Saul, and if anyone really wants to press the button for feminism: The Handmaid’s Tale. Those shows have incredibly well-written female characters that aren’t necessarily paragons.

House of the Dragon choosing to center Rhaenyra as the protagonist as opposed to making her part of a true ensemble a la the original Game of Thrones wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The narrative decision to frame her as heroic (as far as S1 is concerned) is how we get the ‘Protagonist Centered Morality/Unreliable Narrator’ trope that results in plenty of media literate fans that are either neutral or Green-leaning who feel frustrated that there’s not an equal balance between characters.

Perfectly put together, anon. I'm sorry I answered so late. -_-

There's nothing wrong with characters that are written to be good people, but you see, that only works when said character is written consistently and somewhat realistically. Something that the writers completely didn't do in Rhaenyra's case. Are you going to tell me I'm supposed to watch her go through Visenya's traumatic birth, which by the way, happened so quickly after learning that her father was dead, keep her calm, and find it believable?

There is no sense of reason when it comes to grief. None. When someone close to you is gone, you check out. They take a part of your mind away with them and sometimes you don't even realize it. Especially if it's as horrid, as painful and helpless as what Rhaenyra went through. I am not going to sit here and blame the Greens for that baby's death, for all we know of her she had dragon features and was 100% going to die either way. That is digestible for us viewers/readers, who have no connection for a baby mentioned in a few lines.

But Rhaenyra's her mother. And rightfully, when she loses her this way, she goes mad with grief. She wants someone to blame, she cannot cope with the idea that there is no one to blame in this situation, that it would've happened either way. So she blames her enemies, the Greens. She isn't right, but she isn't even sane anymore, she's just had a stillbirth, how can you expect her to think before she speaks?

But the show strips her completely of this anger, and makes her push for peace. Is it possible that not even THAT can make this perfect angel Qween lose her temper like any human would? I understand wanting to rid her of any sin so she looks like a Saint, but really, where's the flaw in being angry and irrational after your stillbirth?

I never liked Rhaenyra as a person but I was looking forward (I'm STILL looking forward lol) to the role she will play as a character, a literary device, a tool to tell a story. I'm not saying I hope they bring out the worst of her this season so more people have reasons to hate women and feel justified for it, but LET HER BE RIGHTFULLY ANGRY. I'M BEGGING YOU.

People will always choose and be more obsessed with the evil but interesting one, not the one who's got more morals. It's already been said in a post I saw not so long ago, but Luke shouldn't be winning polls for best character against OTTO HIGHTOWER of all people because we choose morality in none other than a world like ASOIAF. Please give characters nuance. There's so much potential they got lazy with using timeskips etc. already.

[indouloureux]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 (part two)

summary: she sought for validation; he sought for acceptance. two juveniles who believed they’d spend the rest of their lives playing red guitars and borrowed claviers, (along with the trepidation of isolation), meet in one boring afternoon, and find themselves reveling in caterwaul voices, laying in a field of colossal grass, and writing lyrics with botched ballpens and crumpled papers.

— or: two people bond over emotional trauma, and fall in love through great manifestos

warnings: 1hr reading time, slow burn, friends to lovers, slight teenage angst, jealousy, tooth-rotting fluff, eddie being a sap, weird manifestos, reader being adopted, eddie and reader both having a self discovery whilst falling in love, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), me not knowing how to write both piano and guitar playing properly, deep words (sorry guys open google), lengthy, idiots in love, a love story about two sad teens going through a phase (jk) eddie has a bit of a corruption thing (not kink) bc he introduces reader into new things lol!

explicit warnings (for part two): virgin!reader, virgin!eddie; piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, overstimulation, first time, soft, vanilla porn, mentions of blood, handjob, cum eating, biting, marking, missionary, maybe soft!dom eddie bc he watched porn a lot and thinks he "knows his way", sweet but short aftercare

a/n: this is a story of fiction. i do not know the locations in both indiana and illinois. this is written in the way i prefer it to be to fit its story telling, and i am well aware of the things i write in here, and how i write this story. based on the song '1979' by the smashing pumpkins. hope you all enjoy part two!

PART ONE; SERIES MASTERLIST

That we don't even care

To shake these zipper blues

And we don't know

Just where our bones will rest

When you were young, you remember sneaking out of your room from the orphanage to sneak into the living room and watch the television with a low volume, loud enough for you to hear so as to not disturb the Nuns asleep in their rooms.

You thought falling in love was exchanged between lingering stares, a ring of hope and yearning in their eyes; sharing gospels about yourselves that you’d never tell anyone else, compliments coming from Freudian slips. The ‘will they, won’t they,’ the supportive friends. And months, maybe years, of mutual pinings until they end up confessing beneath the rain in the middle of the road as if there’d been no cars passing by. Yelling through the thunderous storm their words of utter devotion and kiss like their lives depended on it.

For years, before you’d been adopted, you watched the same scenario of love stories on a small screen for hours until your eyes ran dry. Boy and girl meet, one fell first and the other fell harder, an almost confession, an almost kiss, a secret that could ruin their relationship and it almost did, a confession spat in a dangerous situation right before everything went to shit, and then they lived happily ever after. 

The same one every movie.

But they never really expressed how falling in love truly felt. They just showed it. 

Your mother, adoptive mother, had once said that you’d feel this electricity inside you. That sparks fly when you see their smile, or just see them in general. That you’ll feel a thousand butterflies consume you until you feel like you’re floating in the clouds with their hand in yours as you fly into eternity together. 

That everything else falls apart and it’s just the two of you. Heartbeats heard in your ears as you get lost in this abyss of abiding love. Or a spotlight would compel you to look at him like a sacred artifact in a museum. That you’ll find yourself wanting to be closer to them no matter how dangerous it has been—like moth to a flame.

Eleven year old you had stared at her with a look that told her you understood. And you did. Kind of. A young mind like yours couldn’t fully understand that feeling. 

So you waited.

Up until Eddie Munson came to your life.

Eddie Munson, who’s been hiding something from you the past couple of weeks.

Every time you were together, whether it had been for school purposes, songwriting, or just for the hell of it, he’d be stuck in this small mental corner with his front facing you, the back of his notebook keeping a somewhat barrier to hide whatever he was doing. And whenever you asked, he’d stop writing, tap your nose with the tip of his pen, and say

“A satanic ritual.”

Then he’d go back into writing. 

Your curiosity would sometimes almost get the best of you; debating if you should take a quick peek when Eddie leaves the notebook with you (closed) and excuses himself to the bathroom. But it was an invasion of privacy. 

And he’s doing it right now.

Walking through the somewhat crowded hallway, you’ve got a hand clutching the sleeve of his unbuttoned black plaid shirt, just right on his elbow as he writes while walking. Just like you’d been all those months ago.

His tongue darts out, his feet stumbling across his own, muttering short apologies to the people he accidentally bumps too. But he lets you guide him through your small tugs. 

“Christ, Eddie!” you push him away when one of the students comes running in with their projects, almost smacking him against the locker. “Put that down!”

Eddie laughs a bit before he finally snaps it shut, shoving his pen in his pocket. You drop your hand from his elbow. “Sorry, Mands.”

“You’re gonna trip,” you avoid the judgemental stares. Of gossiping kids speaking behind locker doors; you focus on Eddie. “And honestly, if you did, I’ll just make fun of you and pretend you don’t exist.”

“You wound me, pretty girl,” he slaps his hand to his heart, a sardonic pout coming with. But the pout is gone sooner when he realizes what he’d just said, and he clears his throat. “You gonna sit with us at lunch, or you’re still sticking with Wheeler and her friend?”

“They’re revising for the school paper,” you fiddle with the clasp of your bag. “So, uh, maybe I can sit with you if that’s alright?”

“It’s more than alright,” he smiles. Eddie’s palm slams on the cafeteria doors and pushes it open, letting you in first before he follows, letting the door swing until it hinders and settles closed. He scratches his jaw, looking up at the ceiling. “But, uh, you gotta sit beside me. Or else you’ll be stuck between a sticky mess of Sour Patch Kids and, well, kids.”

You walk between the chairs from his table and the one beside him. Eddie takes an empty chair beside Dustin, dragging it beside him at the head of the table and pulls it out for you to sit on. You smile at him, sitting down.

“Oh, hey, (y/n),” Dustin smiles, braces a different color this week that leaves you endeared. “Hey, Eddie.”

Mike chews on his pudding pie. The same brand as Nancy’s, and he’s got a confused frown on his face that’s almost mistaken as repulsion had you not known him. “What are you doing here?”

“Eddie has stained my reputation. I’m a pariah now.”

“Hey,” Eddie laughs, pulling his ball pen out of his pocket. “I could embarrass you right now,”

“I’m always embarrassed. For you, at least,” you jest. 

Gareth opens his small lunchbox, his name written on the side in capital letters. “You ready for tonight?” he asks Eddie.

You whip your head back at the boy beside you, sleeves rolled above his elbows, which reminds you of the one he posited just on your arm. If people didn’t look at you for walking around unabashed beside Eddie Munson, they were looking at the tattoo on your arm. It had caught Principal Higgins’ attention, and you saw him visibly parley to himself if he should punish you for it. 

But then his eyes flitted to Eddie and he sighed, sauntering back to his office with a shake of his head and muttering something about blemishing the temple of God with your tattoos. 

“Been practicing our asses off for the past few weeks. ‘Course I’m fucking ready,” Eddie scoffs. Then he lifts his head off the notebook and looks at you. “You’re coming, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you smile softly. 

He returns the same smile with the same fondness, his eyes twinkling in appreciation. The hand on his lap comes up to twirl his pinky around yours, dimples deepening in glee. You feel your heart pound at the small touch; see how everything behind him blurs. And you flutter your lashes. 

Dustin clears his throat that breaks your eye contact. Eddie shoots him an almost murderous glare, unhooking his finger from yours. 

-

The Hideout was dark. With stone walls and chipped wooden tables. The bartender looked like he was nearing his fifties, but looked approachable and kind when he’d greeted you with a rag in his hand as he wiped the glasses when you stepped inside. The lights were dim but bright above the small stage with band equipment—where you saw Gareth’s Corroded Coffin drums. 

Eddie had been over exaggerating when he said he had a crowd of five drunks. But they’re not exactly many either. There were people scattered around, preoccupied in conversations you don’t, and couldn’t be bothered to know. 

You nervously tug on your dress. A deep shade of red that’s almost black to match him. You walk between tables and old men, sitting on the table second to the front, giving you a clear view of the stage.

Earlier, you’d told Eddie you’d meet him there before he dropped you off at your home despite his protests. He told you to wear something pretty—simple, but pretty. Something that’s you, in his words.

Waiting patiently, you hear the soft clinkings of glass against bottles of alcohol at the bar, the quite boastful laughter of the men in the corner. Your knee bounces, hands clasped in front of you as you trace the rigid strikes of Corroded Coffin’s band poster, and startle yourself when a looming presence hovers over you, casting a shadow over the light.

You yelp, looking up to see a man. His hair gray as his hairline recedes, exposing his forehead. He had a nose that looked a bit like Eddie’s, and his blue eyes shimmer in curiosity as they settle on you; his stare is anything but creepy.

“Are you…Mandy?” he says gruffly, a lilt of uncertainty in his voice, and he sounds as nervous as you are.

“No. I’m (y/n)...” you furrow your eyebrows. “Oh, shit. Are you Eddie’s uncle?”

His hands rub the back panel of his hat, nodding. “Yes ma’am. Wayne Munson. D’you mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” you gesture to the chair beside you. Wayne pulls the chair out, moves it a bit more to the side to give you an appropriate distance so he wouldn’t make you feel uncomfortable, and he sits down with a grunt. “S-sorry for cursing. I’m Eddie’s friend—”

He says your name. “I know. He can’t stop talking about you,” he chuckles lightly. “I finally get to meet the girl that makes my nephew wake up before his alarm clock.”

“That’s me,” you twiddle your thumbs. “Um, Eddie told me you worked at night.”

Wayne understands what you mean, placing his cap on his lap and rubbing his hand on his knee. “I do. But it’s a holiday and I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to see him play.” he scratches his silver beard. “Do you drink? I could order us some.”

“I’m eighteen, Mr. Munson” you tell him. “I can’t drink yet.”

“Coke it is,” he hollers for a waiter, a man a bit younger than the bartender. He orders a pale ale and two cans of coke before he takes out his pack of cigarettes when the waiter leaves. You notice how he’s got a small lighter wedged to the side of his cigarettes like Eddie’s, and you wonder if he’d caught it from his uncle. “You smoke?”

You look around cautiously when he sticks one in his mouth. “Will they let me?”

“You ain’t gonna go to jail for it,” his eyebrows raise. “I’m not pressuring you, kid. I’m just offering,”

Finally, in an impassive shrug, you take one and you place it in your mouth. When Wayne lights up his own, he offers you his lighter. “Thank you, Mr. Munson,”

You sit in silence for a short beat, the smoke of your cigars mixing in the weak waft of the ac. He wasn’t as menacing as you expected, and you didn’t know why you expected it in the first place. Based on Eddie’s stories, Wayne had never questioned his love for his fantasy game, or complained about his love for metal. He’d been the first person to accept Eddie for who he is, the only family in his life that stayed and cared. 

“You know, I-uh-I’d like to thank you,” he turns to you. “You never judged my nephew for who he was. You made him happier and, hell, I haven’t seen him this happy in years. He’s always hogging up the phone talking and laughing with you. I’m not there for him as much as I used to; and I’m glad you gave him back his smile,”

Flushing, you look away and hide your parlously proud smile behind the borrowed cigarette, stained by your fuliginous lipstick. “Nothing to thank me for, Mr. Munson. Glad I could make him happy.”

“Ah, please,” he waves his hand, cigarette in the air. “Call me Wayne. Makes me feel old.” then he waves around his face. “I know my- hair says otherwise. But I’m still in my forties.”

“Copy that,” you take a quick hit. “Wayne.”

Wayne nods his head in acknowledgement, a guttural grunt leaving him. “My nephew hasn’t been this happy in a while. Eddie tends to… hide his emotions. Likes to distract himself with that god-deafening music and his fantasy game. And since you came to his life,” his arm lifts, as if to give your shoulder a pat before he clenches it to a fist and puts it back on his lap.

You chuckle. “You can pat me, Mr. Muns- Wayne.”

“You sure?”

“It’s just a shoulder pat, sir,”

Balky, his hand comes up to clap at your shoulder, shaking it lightly. You smile, placing the cigarette back in your lips and sucking until you couldn’t breathe, and let it all out.

“You helped him… (y/n),” he swallows. “And I thank you for that.”

When your drinks come, footsteps advance the stage. First came Gareth who settled behind the drums, who saw you immediately and gave you an ebullient wave, then Jeff and the other guy who’s name you’ve (sadly) forgotten.

Then Eddie came just when you opened your can. The fizzle of soda coalesce with his eager footsteps. Your hand stops around the ring, eyes trailing up to Eddie’s face.

You try to bite back a gasp.

There’s dark eyeliner beneath his eyes that names him hellaciously unique; the liquid kohl renders his eyes wider—his umber eyes darker, almost voluminously black, although fulgurated with the dim lights and his buzzing excitement. His vogue is eccentric, almost a masquerade that fools, had you not known him. But it’s so him, and at the same time, it isn’t.

But Eddie looks unashamed and proud of his look of ripped sleeves and borrowed eyeliner, his hair asininely wild, curlier like he’d gotten himself a perm. He’s wearing black jeans with more tears, his Dio vest that accentuates his lanky arms, the pudge of his stomach seen through his shirt but he wears it proudly; happy trail peeking underneath when he lifts his hand to pull on the mic.

He taps on the silver mesh head of the mic. Eddie clears his throat. “Uh, hello?”

You see everyone turn their heads, unamused, but forcing themselves to acknowledge his presence. Eddie smiles nervously, before his eyes settle on you and Wayne. 

“Good evening gentlemen and lady,” he winks at you. “Uh, yeah, thanks for being here tonight. It means so much to the owner who’s been working his ass off so, give him a round of— ah, screw it no one’s listening,” Eddie tuts with a ridiculous smile, eyes meeting yours in a short apology. He’s not upset, but he finds it amusing. “This first song is, um, Breaking the Law by Judas Priest. Hope you guys enjoy it and if it gets too loud, I suggest you cover your ears.”

He picks up his red Warlock NJ guitar (Sweetheart, he names her) resting on the amplifier beside Gareth’s guitar, slinging it around himself before he pulls on the vermillion pick on his neck. Eddie settles himself up front, lips hovering over the mic. Then he looks back at Gareth, who throws one of the dumstricks into the air but fails to catch it and falls to the ground with an awkward cattle. 

Beside you, Wayne smiles at the inconvenience, but doesn’t elicit a laugh out of him. Gareth shoots the both of you a penitent smile, picking up the stick. He taps it together three times to signal preparation, before you’re startled with his sudden slam on the snare.

You’ve never really seen Eddie play the electric guitar. Well, you have. You’ve just unfortunately forgotten the first time you actually did. And you wonder if thirteen year old Eddie was just as great as twenty year old him, playing the guitar with such precision; he was, indeed, a virtuoso with guitars—electric or not. 

The sight holds you ransom. Eddie, with his hair unruly, an unforgiving proud smile on his face when he darts his tongue out to glide his dexterous fingers across the bronze strings of Sweetheart, his voice a caterwaul as he recites the almost innocuous lyrics. 

“Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die.”

But his eyes were passionate—not of the barely there crowd, but it was obvious he loves what he’s doing. Especially now that you’re here, witnessing this for the first time with his beloved uncle. In that small stage, it stymies all judgment of conservative people, and he lets himself relish in the freedom of doing what he desires. 

A gloss of pursuit sybaritism coats his eyes; with a white ring of sheer wanton hedonism just above his dark irises. The rest of the boys mimic the same passion, arms kinetic at their own playing, noses scrunched in glee. 

Eddie doesn’t look like an angel tonight. When the lights shine horns on top of his head—the cardinal hue of serpentine antlers usurps the halo over his head. He’s devilishly handsome, wickedly catching your eye through the palls of branded cigarettes that spread across the room. 

Beside you, Wayne claps and whistles, showing his everloving support. Eddie smiles brightly, leaning back when he does a riff you’re certain you’ll struggle studying it. When the song ends, scattered claps gift him. Few, but loud to show their support. 

He’s sweaty all of a sudden, and he runs his hand through his dampened hair, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Thanks. Thank you- hey, man, you owe me a beer,” he points at the guy sitting in the corner, who raises his bottle and tips his hat. You don’t know him. “This next song is dedicated to this lovely lady up front,”

You feel eyes on you. Suddenly, you want to sink into your chair just to avoid the unwanted eyes, and you tell yourself to forgive Eddie for making you off-guard. But the strangers give you either confused eyes, or looks that say they could care less.  But Wayne claps, which makes you hide your flustered smile behind the coca-cola can that you drink from.

“It’s Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by The Police. I know it’s unusual for us to play something that’s not metal, but I practiced this song just for her. A…token of gratitude. And also for my uncle,” he adjusts his mic. “Um. Hope you guys enjoy,” 

You appreciate the fact that he’d practiced a song from one of your favorite bands just for you, despite it being out of his taste. You clap, a silly smile on your face that hurts your cheeks.

He strums, benign in all his dexterity, and shoots you a cheeky wink. You playfully grimace at his action, and you fail to miss the laugh Wayne lets out at the wordless banter. 

You gently sway to the indie music, see the way his rings glide across his nylon strings, how the bones of his fingers move through his skin when he plucks, mouth pressing up to the mic to sing clemently. You copy his nods, your own fingers tapping on the tin of your can.

The only thing the song lacked was the piano; you, basically. Eddie started playing with his eyes on you, and suddenly you remember being eight years old in the dark living room of the orphanage you stayed in. Except you hadn’t been the one watching — this time, you’re in the screen of that small box, finally feeling what it’s like to stare at someone so completely enamored with everything they did. With everything Eddie did. 

Because everything slows and everything else blurs, a flame igniting across every vein that brings you into a lovelorn haze. You hear your heart beat with the precious song Eddie has dedicated to you right in your ear, and you feel like floating off the chair. The halo comes back to slot itself between his horns, luring you in like a moth to a flame; like a venerated, fallen angel that has you plunging your hand through the clouds and taking his, flying you to his safe haven. 

“I resolved to call her up, a thousand times a day. And ask her if she'll marry me, some old-fashioned way,”

His once caterwaul cry of a voice shifts into a soft, canorous sway from baritone to tenor. Eddie smiles at you, a look in his eyes you can’t fathom but makes your heart burst, blood dripping down your chest but you don’t care. 

For four minutes and twenty seconds, your eyes never leave Eddie. And neither does he, like he knows he won’t so much as place the wrong finger on the wrong string or fuck up his plucking. Everything’s a scene on a cheesy romcom, a feeling told through a lovesick song, a story told through a galore of rhyming words in a poem. 

“Every little thing she does is magic; everything she do just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic. Now I know my love for her goes on,”

In your mind, you push yourself off the table, chair falling to the ground, coke spilling onto the wooden top, walking yourself up to him and tackle him in a kiss; one of his arms would be around your waist and the other holding the mic stand tightly, your hands cupping his delicate face and mold your lips with his like some puzzle piece waiting to be connected. 

That the spotlight settles on the both of you, and you’ll fly up to the skies to spend the rest of your lives loving each other in eternity like everyone else did. 

But you stay on your seat with a fluttering heart and an agape mouth. You don’t realize Gareth has sped up his drums for the denouement of the song, and Eddie leaves on last hard strum before the small crowd claps for him, seemingly happy to finally watch someone play a song they knew. 

Eddie bows, an abashed smile for gratitude. “T-thank you, everyone—”

“Holy shit. They’re actually clapping for us—”

“Shut up, Jeff,”

-

“Thanks for coming, uncle Wayne,”

Their hug is tight with claps on the back and prolonged grunts. Wayne breaks away, hands on his nephew’s shoulder, a proud smile on his face. 

“No problem,” he nods at him. “Needed a break from work, anyway,”

You stand behind Eddie, fingers joint in front of you. Wayne gives you a kind smile that you return, one that makes Eddie turn to his shoulder to look at you, and you can see the roseate glow that dusts his cheeks. He bats you his eyelashes, eyeliner slightly smudged, before he turns back to his uncle.

“I like this whole… makeup thing,” he points at his eyes.

“Thanks,”

He leans in to whisper something in Eddie’s ear that you can hear, hushed words that are suspicious when Wayne looks at you again and when Eddie laughs nervously and lightly pushes at his uncle’s shoulder with a small whine of uncle Wayne, shut up! 

“Nice meeting you, Mandy,” Wayne tips his hat to you. “Drive safe, kids. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” he pats his shoulder, shaking it lightly before he walks away.

Eddie walks you to his van, a hand on the back of your waist with his notebook clutched to his side. It’s quiet, with your shoes crunching with the gravel ground; he opens the door for you, right before he moves to his side. You watch in the side mirror as Wayne gets in his own car and pulls out of the driveway. 

Eddie throws his black notebook in the back, key twisting to start the car, and Broken Wings by Mr. Mister plays. It startles you, whipping your head at him.

“Where exactly are you taking me, Munson?” you narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. He chuckles, buckling in his seat belt. “Well, that’s a first.”

“We’re leaving Hawkins. I can’t go to jail,” 

“Oh?” you raise a brow. Eddie laughs, humming along to the song which peaks your interest but you’re more curious about something else when he pulls out the driveway. “So where is it?”

He gives you a quick glance, the corner of his lip twitching up. “Illinois,” 

Your smile falls a bit, shifting into something confused when you squirm in your seat and rest your hands on your lap. “Oh,” you purse your lips. “What’s up in Illinois?”

“A surprise,” Eddie chuckles. “I’m not kidnapping you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Noooo ritualistic sacrifice.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” you toy with your fingers, scratching gently at your tattoo. “You do know that when we get there, it’ll be one in the morning,”

He slows the van for a moment, driving with one hand as he reaches blindly behind him. Finally, he pulls out a pillow. It looks new, smells fresh, even, like laundry detergent. Eddie places it on your lap. “Figured. Take a nap, then,” 

You don’t. You hug the pillow to your chest, but you rest your head on it after you say a small thanks. Eddie adjusts the volume of the radio, redirecting the acs and when you give him a silent thanks with an abashed smile, he takes this as an opportunity to talk again.

“I’m really glad you came, by the way,” he smiles. “I mean, I know you said you’d come a while ago. And I’m really happy that you came even though our gig kept on being canceled for months.”

“I made a promise,” you lightly slur. “Your uncle’s really nice, by the way. He showed me this picture of you in his wallet when you were a baby. All ass and naked-”

“Shit, really?”

“No. I’m kidding.”

He tsks. “Would have been a nice, PG way to show you my ass but hey, it’s good to know my uncle doesn’t go around showing my butt.”

You laugh, unabashed. “I think I’d prefer grown up ass than baby ass, Eddie,”

Is this… flirting?

Flirting that’s not PG-13? Although, when has flirting been family friendly?

Why is he flirting with you?

Eddie’s smile dwindles. “You also look nice,” then he stammers. “I mean, more than nice. You look good- great- pretty- b-beautiful.” he sighs, the embarrassed pink tinge on his cheeks hidden by the darkness of his van. “You look… beauteous”

A rush of heat convulsing from your head to your toes that makes you squirm on your seat and toy with the ends of your red dress. “Beauteous, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Big word,”

“You know me,” he makes a psh sound, tapping his fingertips on the leather of his steering wheel. “I like it when they’re big…words,”

You turn your head to him. “Are you alright?”

Eddie’s fidgeting on his seat, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed, feeling like he’s been berated for something so small. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m- sorry for, uh, the whole ass thing.”

“It’s just ass, Eddie,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s my ass,” he motions to himself. “Isn’t it weird that I’m talking about my ass as a baby to you- you know what?” Eddie suddenly stops the van, right in the middle of the road, where it was just the two of you in his van in the asphalt ground. 

You gawp. “What are you doing?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt, leaning forward to shrug his vest off, leaving him in the extra shirt he brought along after his show—The Van Halen shirt he opted to shoplift one time, but you’d stopped him by buying it which he thanked you with an ice cream. And coincidentally, Runnin’ With the Devil starts playing.

Eddie places his vest on top of you, the entire shoulder length covering your chest; it’s as if he wants to keep you warm. You pout, hugging the pillow with one arm and the other tugging the vest around your right arm.

“Take a nap,” he pats your knee gingerly, giving you a small smile. “We’re gonna have a long night, sweetheart— god fucking damnit,”

You blush at his moniker but laugh at his rabelaisian accident. He sings beneath his breath, gives your bare knee a rub with his thumb before he starts driving again, forgetting to put his seatbelt back on.

-

“Oh my god, you are so gonna sacrifice me to the Devil,”

“Only bad girls get punished, (y/n)— I’m just gonna shut up now,”

When Eddie said he’d be taking you to Illinois for a surprise, you don’t expect to be brought to some abandoned home in a place you’re an alien to. Upon you stood a house which hangs on rusted nails and broken cement walls. It seemed to be a small historic mansion, built in a hamlet a couple minutes from the suburbs. 

You feel like you’re one of the protagonists who idiotically explore a home they shouldn’t be exploring in some horror movie. That behind the bushes hid a man with a burnt face and knives for fingers. The trees rustle, crickets chirp and the wings of birds flap into the night sky. There’s a dog that barks from a distance, cars that speed across the asphalt road to their destination, and Eddie’s labored breathing as he stares at you for any signs of fear or hesitance. 

You should be afraid — it’s one in the morning, and Eddie’s brought you to a place that’s hours away from your home. Are you afraid of him? Never.

But are you afraid of ghosts…?

“Is this safe?” you look around, surrounded by low hills and trees from afar that hide the city and the suburb. “Are we gonna get arrested?”

“We’re safe,” his eyebrows raise a little. “No ghosts, I promise. Although I can’t guarantee you there won't be any bugs and weird creepy crawlies in there, but I’ll protect you from them,” Eddie jokes.

You laugh, looking at the broken windows, the shape making it seem like someone had thrown a rock inside. There’s a small graffiti beside the door. Mellon Collie & Infinite Sadness, motherfucker!

“Mands, come on,” Eddie offers his hand, a glint of hope that bejewels his dark eyes. He’s gotten rid of his eyeliner already (sadly), but he looks just as handsome. Shyly, you place your hand on top of his. 

His palm is rough; the same goes for his fingertips. But they’re warm and gentle and so welcoming. It’s like your hands are made to hold his, with the way they connect like some padlock. Eddie holds your hand the same way you hold his heart: of reverential attentiveness and utter devotion.  

Eddie beams, bearing a smile that reaches his eyes. He tugs you close to him, pocketing his keys. “I got you, ‘kay?”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Copy that, rockstar,”

He blushes.

Slowly, Eddie pushes the door open. An eerie creak emits from the decrepit door, loud that you worry it would be heard from the houses a couple minutes away. He visibly winces at the sound, your hand tightening around his when he tiptoes his way in.

“Fuck, I forgot the door did that,”

You look at him. “You forgot?”

“Well, how’d you think I knew about this place?” he smirks at you. “Gotta impress you, sweetheart. You, as an avid lover of pianos and Billy Joel, need to take you somewhere you’ll love,”

In all honesty, you appreciate the effort. And the thought of Eddie wanting—needing to impress you, makes your heart perform an elegant summersault. “Well, that’s nice of you. I can learn how to love some dingy home.”

Eddie laughs.

There’s a spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, its balusters broken in half, the risers in the middle having foot-sized holes, the handrails covered in green veins. There’s an arched entrance beside the foyer, leading to a living room with couches covered in a thin white sheet, with a coffee table fallen sideways and a couple of smashed plates on the ground. There’s a window beside the fireplace, too, although what only remains to be the frame itself.

The carpeted floor is covered in mold, and you wonder what its design might have been before it had turned into this disgusting, brown color. 

“Don’t worry, there’s a room in here that doesn’t look this… mlegh,” he frowns deeply, wiping his hand on his thigh. “God, that was gross. This way, m’lady,”

He leads you through the spacey hallway, passing by ripped picture frames, a kitchen full of smashed plates and open cabinets filled with moldy and spoiled food; bedrooms with blankets covered in dust and démodé clothes inside unhinged wardrobes. Each item and corner harbor cobwebs from lingering spiders, and you almost ran into one if it weren’t for Eddie warning you to be careful.

Finally, your feet meet the marbled floor of a new room; moldy carpets gone, the darkness gone as this room is lit with the moonlight that sparks through the broken window. But there’s a clean blanket in the middle of the room, a picnic basket and a pack of beer—both fresh and clean.

You look at Eddie with a parted mouth and he says,

“Behold,” his arm stretches, moving behind him to guide your vision. Eddie’s ringed hands unearth his surprise, where your eyes follow his direction. “A piano,”

There’s a primeval grand piano in the middle of the room, the dust wiped off of its existence; its legs had been duct taped, the lid chipped and it’s missing two wheels but it was beautiful nonetheless. 

“You said you’ve always imagined playing Billy Joel on a grand piano, so here you go,” he lightly punches a wall. “Now, I know I’m no rich, snobby person, but I would applaud you, sweetheart,”

You near the piano, running your fingertips across the keys, pressing on one of them to see if they’re in tune and they are. You snap your head at Eddie with a slack jaw, tears welling your eyes. 

“Gareth and I drove up here, fixed up this room. Luckily, he knew someone here in Illinois who could tune the piano. And as for the blanket, and the beer, and the sandwiches, well, uncle Wayne did me a favor and brought all that shit up here. Now, I know it’s kind of gross in here and it’s like, one in the morning but—oh!”

Eddie’s tackled by your hug, feet knocking him back and almost to the ground. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck, nose digging onto his hair and eyes slammed shut to fight back the overwhelming tears. There’s not a single bone in him that’s hesitant to hug you back, holding you close to his chest, his heart pounding against yours when he presses his lips on top of your head.

“This is amazing,” you say against him. “I can’t believe you-you did this for…me.”

You pull away from him, hands on his biceps when you turn to look back at the grand piano. Eddie’s arms run back and forth on your waist, looking down at you with a triumphant smile before he twists you so that your back’s to his chest.

“Anything for you, Mandy,” he moves his hands up to your arms, rubbing them. “This was all I could do but-”

“I accept anything you give me,” you murmur with a smile, starstruck with the piano and his gift. 

“Yeah, I know,” he rests his chin on your head. “Now, you’ve got something to play for me?”

-

The lively music created by your adroit fingers was enough to make Eddie sway. You lack the guitars, the drums, and the trumpet but it’s robust with buoyancy nonetheless. 

You play the same way Eddie did—with a bobbing head, a bewitching voice, and dexterous fingers that know their way to your beloved instrument. He sips his beer, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, watching you with such awe; an exact mirror of you and him in the Hideout.

You keep your eyes riveted on the piano lest of mistakes. But Eddie thinks you’re far from failure, with how nimble your fingers are, and how your voice was as angelic as it had always been.

“You mighta heard I run with a dangerous crowd, we ain't too pretty, we ain't too proud,” your fingers glide, from left to right, pressing on all chords in quick speed, and it makes him holler. “We might be laughing a bit too loud. Aw, but that never hurt no one.”

“YES!” he claps. “You’re amazing! A fuckin’ star!”

Eddie takes a swig of the bitter liquor, headbanging to a song that wasn’t even metal but you could headbang to any song, right? 

When you’re done, he pulls out a rose from a basket and throws it at you, falling on top of the piano as he stands up from the blanket, clapping loudly that it ricochets outside the empty, broken halls. You flush, smiling bashfully when you stand up and take the red rose into your hand, bringing it up to your nose and bowing as if you just finished an hour-long concert.

“Felt like I was in church,” Eddie pants, wiping his palms on his jeans. “You’re goddamn amazing, Mands. You really could be the next Billy Joel,”

“Oh, stop,” you wave him off, playing with the stem of the rose. “You’re just-”

“Complementing? Praising you?” he cocks a brow, walking towards you and places his hand on your back. “Okay, now sit. I’ve got a surprise for you, babe,”

“I swear, if you’ve got Billy Joel around, I won’t hesitate to kiss him in front of you,”

“Keep it in your pants, young lady,”

You guffaw. “How could I keep my lips inside my pants?”

“By- shh. I’m trying to show off here,” he stretches his arms, fingers settling over the keys. “Um, Dustin taught me this. Kid’s great with the piano and all that shit. Not as great as you, though. He’s more…superior with his mind than he is with music. But, he was able to help me with this so let’s thank the little shrimp for that.”

Nodding, you bump your shoulder with his. A smile paints your face, having already been surprised that Eddie Munson learned how to play the piano for you. But you wait for the real one, eager to see what he has in store when he positions his fingers on the piano, rings pressing against the ivory.

“Uhhh- oh!”

You peer quietly, watching the way his fingers keep a leisurely pace; an obvious sign that he’s still unsure of which keys to press next. But he knows the words by heart — something you’ve never heard of, and it’s obvious that he’s written this himself. You deem the meaning behind them salient, singing with his voice a dulcet tenor, eyes evident that he’s repeating all the words Dustin said: 

Remember the keys. Play gently. Make sure you don’t get pinched by the keys, and you can always go slow. This isn’t some Corroded Coffin show where you start headbangin’ and making those fucking riffs. You play- gently! What did I just say? God, you’re gonna die a virgin.

Eddie looks at you for a split second, nervous, worried with the way your eyebrows furrow and your mouth parted. If he were being honest, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. The minute he sat down on the bench, he'd forgotten half of what Dustin had said, mind almost omitting to remember the lyrics he’d worked hard for for weeks.

And god, you’re staring at his hands and his face with bewilderment. And you’re beautiful. He feels so fucked up (in a good way). He’d probably kill himself if he fucks this one up.   

But you regard the lyrics. They’re meaningful and heartwarming, meant just for you when he takes those short glances, but there’s a part that stitches all your wounds together, provided by his dangerously blunt needle.

“You whisper into my heart. And I've never been quite smart, but I heed your words in a tempest; just where our bones will rest,”

Piano played with fidelity, lyrics sang with breathless devotion, fingers genuflect to please you with its core venerated. Eddie Munson plays for the key to your heart even though he’s had it in his palm for a long time; shakedown your mind with a flickering flame in his mind, veins high on morphine. 

Suddenly he stops, and Eddie looks at you with a face so wrecked with nervousness you just want to kiss hug him. 

“That’s- that’s everything that I remember,” he flops his hands down to his lap with a huff. “It’s actually unfinished. But I couldn’t wait any longer,”

You croon. “Why not?”

“Well, why’d you think I brought you here in the first place?” he whispers. “Other than me wanting to surprise you. I mean, Mands, I wanted to impress you. Think of any other guys who’d bring someone to an abandoned home for anything but a date.”

“A date, huh?” you repeat, slowly smirking. “This is a date?”

Eddie pales. “Well, I mean, if you want it to be… a date...”

You decide to play with him. “I hardly think of this as a date,”

“Why not?”

“I’ve barely eaten,”

He giggles, leaning back with his head lulling back. “Sorry! Sorry I jus’- wanted to see you play.” Boldly he reaches up to push your hair behind your ear, the side of his face glimmering by the bright moon seen from the huge hole on the wall of the room. “I stole your lyric, by the way. Kind of makes me not want to give you some credit,”

Flushing, you look away, mustering up the courage to place your hand on top of his. “I’d really appreciate the credit, Munson,” you murmur. “That way the world would know who I was,”

“But who cares about the world?” he cups your face, thumb resting on top of your cheek. “I’m here, Mandy. I’ll… heed your words. Y’know? I’ve never been smart but I’ll heed your words in- what was the next word?”

“Tempest,”

“Tempest,” Eddie repeats. You giggle, leaning into his touch. “I am…stupid for you. But I’ll understand you. I’ll listen to you, and I’ll take care of you, (y/n). I…”

He’s redolent of piety to genuine amor. Eddie looks at you like you painted the stars on the dark sky, like someone who’d pulled him out of hellfire and thought that all his devilish, leather and metal glory was worthy of your attention and acceptance. He cradles your heart in his hand.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he states. “I didn’t know anyone could fall in love twice but, life is full of possibilities.”

Tears well your eyes, rivulets transferring to your eyelashes. It seems like Eddie has mirrored you, too. You cock your head to the side, letting out a dry chuckle. 

“Me too,” you bite your lip. “I really like you. And I think I’m in love with you,”

“Thank fuck. My next option was to sacrifice you to Satan if everything went to shit,”

“Hey!”

“Kidding,” he smiles softly. “Can I kiss you?”

Four words enough to sweetly kill you, only to be resurrected by his yearning stare. You nod. “I don’t know. Can you?”

He doesn’t answer, but yeah, he can kiss you.

It’s tender, it's soft, it's warm, it's free, and it’s loving. It feels like summer in the dead of the night; like sitting in front of the fireplace with hot choco during winter. Eddie kisses you the way a lover would, with megawatts of avidity. And his lips are soft and home and so validating. I see you. I feel you, I understand you. 

Eddie fully carries your face in his hand, slanting his mouth against yours when he takes a deep breath. He breaks away for a moment before he tackles you with an open mouthed kiss that you reciprocate, the feeling of his balmy tongue grazing your plump bottom lip.

You feel the heat wave itself from your chest to the space between your legs that makes you subconsciously lean closer to him, thighs bumping. Eddie’s hand crawls from your cheek, to pressing lightly on the dip of your neck, to your plump shoulder, grazing the tattoo he painted on your skin until they land on your thigh, lifting it on top of his.

You moan softly that vibrates across his warm chest. Eddie hums, playing with the ruffles of your red dress, keeping your hot mouth locked against his. But when your hand comes down to grasp at his bicep, moving behind to tangle lightly on his curls, your body searches for friction and uses his thigh as the nearest solution. 

“Christ, babe,” he breaks away, the tip of his nose still pressed on your cheek. “You only got panties beneath?”

“You never know,” you pant. 

He groans, feeling blood rush down to his cock that immediately hardens. You feel an acute bump beneath your knee, giving Eddie a rubicund glow. You press the back of your knee against it, which makes him squeak. “Y’ really wanna- wanna do this? I mean, I just kissed you.” he swallows thickly. “And I’ve- I’ve never done this before,”

Eddie looks ashamed, like it’s embarrassing to be a virgin in your twenties. Your heart melts for him, face softening, taking his hand into yours and kissing his knuckles. 

“Me, too,” you confess. “But I trust you and- and I wanna do this with you. Besides, it’s better than to leave high and dry, right?”

I trust you.

He laughs jovially. 

“You’re right,” he gives your mouth quick pecks, too short for your liking but he makes up for it when Eddie readjusts himself so that he’s fully facing you, urging you to do the same so that he’d wrap your legs around his waist. “‘M gonna take care of you, Mands.”

He easily lifts himself off the old bench, carrying you with him. You sway with every step, arms locked around his neck, lips slotted against him with his eyes closed tightly but luckily he knows his way to the thin blanket.

Eddie kneels, almost falling down with your weight. He places a hand to the back of your head and the other on the bottom of your spine when he gently lays you on the light eiderdown. 

Immediately, he lays himself on top of you, a forearm on the side of your head with the other palming at your waist. Your dress rides up to your thigh, pooling beneath you when Eddie moves forward to caress his thigh against yours, your knees pressing up at his sides. 

“Can I- Can I remove your dress?” he asks gently, eyebrows joint. “Please?”

“Yes, please,”

His hands wander to the buttons in front, removing them with ease until your bra appears. It doesn’t match what’s below you, something you’re slightly embarrassed about, but Eddie goggles at them as soon as he pulls on your strap. “Oh, god, you’re hot.”

He mouths at the top of your breasts, sucking gently as he begins to pull down on your dress until he sees your cotton panties. He drags them down until your body’s free of restraint, where he moves back so he’d remove them off your legs and place them on top of the basket to avoid any dust ruining the fabric.

Then he goes back to kissing your tits, hands cupping them together, bunching the material of your bra in his fists. You moan softly, grasping his shoulders.

“Beautiful,” he says. “Goddess divine,”

Eddie helps you sit up slightly so he could reach behind and clumsily unclasp your bra. His tongue pokes out in determination, makes a happy sound of success once he sees your bra loosen, straps draping down your shoulders that he gladly removes from you. 

“Hold on,” he leans back, moving to his knees to remove his vest and shirt. Eddie stuns you with his alabaster skin tainted with black ink. A gnarly demon on his chest beside a black widow, the infamous bats on his outer forearm, the puppet master on the inside and the butterfly on his wrist; the wyvern on his bicep, and there’s a huge, hotly formidable tattoo of a pair of bat wings starting from his v-line, curving around his waist, and a skull beneath his left pec. “There. Now we’re even,”

“You look… christ, I’m not even gonna fucking hold back. You look hot. Very fuckable,”

He laughs with a light shake of his head. “I’m gonna pretend you were looking at my face while you were saying that.”

When he goes back down, his lips attach to your hard nipple. You mewl softly, feeling his hot saliva lather around your tit when he suckles hard like he searches for something in there. You clutch at his hair, head tipping back, hips jolting up to grind against his bulge which makes him groan. 

“Do you have to suck on my tits longer or should I start touching myself already?”

Eddie chuckles in disbelief. “Patience, honey. ‘M gonna give you what you want, don’t worry.”

His hand grips at the warm flesh of your thigh, index finger moving up to slip beneath the waistband of your panties, massaging your flesh. And he treats the other breast with the same hunger, doesn’t stop until he’s certain they’re sensitive (they are. They really are.)

Finally, he starts moving down, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses on your belly, down to your navel, until he reaches your dampening underwear. You prop yourself up to your elbows when he stutters in his movements, staring up at the wet spot that reveals the indent of your little cunt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, a forming billow of insecurity preparing to tackle you the longer he stares at your clothes sex. 

“Nothing,” he clears his throat. “Jus’ that I’ve never… eaten a girl out, before. Well, I’ve had practice. Just not at a girl’s p-pussy,”

Curiosity waves insecurity off. “Well, where? At your hand?”

“At a fleshlight,”

Your head feels like burning. “Oh,” you blink. “Well, do your best, I guess. Good luck,”

“Thanks,” 

Eddie sniffs at your arousal, biting back an animalistic groan that scratches at his throat when the aroma of nectar fills his nostrils. Eddie leisurely removes your panties, lifting his eyes up to connect with yours. They’re achingly concupiscent, pupils blown in the thick glaze of frisson that makes the hair on his arms raise with anticipation. 

Finally, he tugs them down, wiggling them off you. Eddie’s practically edging himself, with the way he slowly reveals your cunt, mouth watering at the shiny gloss at your clit from your slick. He growls lowly, sliding them off faster until he tosses them into nowhere (you make a note to hit him later for that).

His hands push at your knees, spreading your legs apart, making your pussy open and splay out for him to press his tongue against. 

Which he does; Eddie’s lips purse, lets a thick glob of his spit cascade down to your clit before leaving a featherlight kiss to it, until he licks a fat stripe from your tiny hole to the bud. You keen, back arching, which makes him link his arms around your legs and press a hand on your navel to keep you down.

It’s a foreign feeling you know you’d relish for the rest of your life, especially when it comes to his tongue. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper. 

“You taste- taste fucking amazing,” you do. Like honey; like a pétillant sweet moscato, syrup on pancakes and all other sweet shit he could think of. Eddie repeats his action, which makes your hole flutter around nothing. He suctions his mouth at your clit, sucking all the juices that continue to leak out of your blushing cunt. “Christ on a fucking clutch- oh, god, Mandy.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound that seems to be like quiet slurping and the raw music of wetness created by his lips and your arousal. Your toes curl, the tip of his tongue dragging along your folds like some kitten before he returns to taking your clit back in his mouth.

Mewling, your elbows give out and your head falls down to the sheets, eyes squeezing shut. His vacant hand comes down to drag itself along the mess of your hot sex, amalgamated with his saliva and your lubricous dampness, rubbing your clit with his index and middle finger in slow, pressured circles that begins to ignite the flame below your stomach. 

“God- Eddie- I-”

“Wanna use your words, babe?” he laps at your hole, nose rubbing at your clit when he shakes his head vigorously. “Tell me how good it feels, come on. Don’t go shy on me.”

You nod, your wrist pressing on your forehead when Eddie parts your slick petals with his fingers, formed into a v to expose more of you. He licks at it, teasing your folds, gawking at you. 

“Feels- feels amazing. Felt like I was gonna pee whenever you- fuck- suck at my clit. God, Eds, I want more,” you whine, bucking your hips at his face. “Please. Please please please,”

He laughs against you. “You weren’t gonna pee, sweetheart.”

“How’d you know?”

“Porn,” he furrows his eyebrows. “Eavesdropping works sometimes.”

Eddie licks at his fingers, index and middle stuck together in his mouth as he twirls his tongue around them. He pulls them out with a small pop, eyes  wandering up to your bare, heaving chest, and he couldn’t resist a teasing squeeze using the hand pressed on your navel.

Then, he begins to ease one finger, lips apart, breathless as he watches you take in his digit slowly. It’s a strange feeling, with something prodding deep at your entrance, where Eddie doesn’t stop until he’s practically knuckle deep into you, pressing against your viscid walls; an alien sensation that feels good, albeit you still don’t feel full, even so, it’s tingly and blissful.

Your brows furrow, lips disjoined to produce heartily mewls, evoking Eddie of his altruism. He can’t get enough of how you taste, of how heavenly your sounds are despite the deed being so irreverent. He’s thrusting the single digit slowly. So you buck your hips against his face, almost shoving your clit into his mouth.

“M-more,” you whine. “Please. I can take it,”

“Yeah?” he kisses the outside of your cunt, nipping at your thighs. “Gotta stretch you open first, right?”

The tone’s a question, though it careens to remind you of what he’s going to do next. Eddie pulls his finger out, moaning quietly at his scintillating limb. He lifts his middle finger, placing it beside the sticky index before he gingerly impels inside. Your hips raise, your wails turning a bit louder, bursting into pleasured linns of coloratura. 

When he brushes that sensitive spot that makes you sob, one that abuts the waves and fluxes delirium on every blood that swims on your insides. Eddie looks up at you, hair in a tangled mess when you keep pulling on them as he picks up his pace and quaffs at your pulpy button, shoulders spreading your legs at an almost uncomfortable distance that puts an ache from your legs to your thighs.

The sounds you make are absolutely empyrean. They reverberate from the torn walls of the hallway just outside, like angels warbling as they play the harmonious harp with their cherubic fingers; like the skies had opened, let out a beam of sunlight surround him in a circle and take him up to heaven where you remain. 

And they shouldn’t be taking sinners like him; a devil worshiper as they rudely opine. Yet here he was, listening to an angel cry, her teardrops leaking down his fingers to his gyrating wrist, combing through his hair pruriently. 

But now, because of him, he doesn’t think you're an angel anymore. With what’s happening — angels don’t submit to the devil now, do they?

Eddie’s hair is a blazing abradation against your sensitive skin, heightens every part of your senses that explodes your mind. You feel an overwhelming, anomalous twist in the pit of your stomach. 

He places gentle kisses on your silky thighs, looking up at you with such vehemence. “You make the prettiest sounds, Mands. Just as pretty as your voice, hm? Wanna sing for me? Gon’ make you sing so loud, baby.”

Fingers fasten. They scissor, and they spread, and they augment on your viscous in your tight canal. An amoral sound produced by his neophyte hands and your needy, swelling cunt that aches for more despite already having been split open by his fingers. 

You moan, loud, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his arm begins to shake the faster he moves his hand inside you. Eddie begins moving up, fingers still fucking you, kissing his way up to your face. He leaves wet spots on your skin, both of his saliva and your wetness. Your hands leave his hair, eyes scrunched close to weep coarsely, pushing at his hand, urging him to go deeper that his cold rings sting your raw folds. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, stomach flexing, arm grasping at his hastening hand. You clench around his fingers, locking him in place for a split second from how tight it was. “God, Eddie, I’m- you’re making me cu- I’m close,”

“You can cum,” he kisses your cheek, dragging his lips up to kiss the corners of your eyes. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, be a good girl and cum for me,”

You do, with your back bowed, jaw slack with mewls and moans, thighs shaking when he continues to rub your clit even when your cum starts to coat his fingers, dripping down to his rings and wrist. Liquid spurts, a hollow but wet sound when he slows his fingering and fucks your tiny entrance open. 

Finally, Eddie pulls them out with a humiliating shlick, cum leaking out of your hole and onto the thin blanket. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, like it’s his libation —god of fingerfucking, as you’d call him in your mind when he sucks all the white sap.

“Felt good?” he pokes your cheekbone with the button of his nose. “Because if it didn’t, I might as well leave you here and go back to Hawkins butt naked.”

You laugh, slapping lightly at his arm. “It felt amazing, Eddie. Don’t worry.”

Your hands fumble with his jeans. But Eddie kisses you, unrestrained with his tongue sweet, a faint bitter taste of the beer he drank earlier. He places his hands on top of yours, placing them on top of your stomach before he goes back to removing his jeans. 

The sound of his pants unzipping excites you, eyebrows raising as you kiss him harder, hands coming up to grasp his face gently, thumb on his cheek and the rest of your fingers below his jaw that you caress its emolliency. Eddie raises his hips, tugging them down until he’s clad in nothing but silver rings and checkered boxers.

He nods towards his crotch when you break away from him, eyes leading from his chest, to the fuzzy brown hair of his happy trail, to the bulge that pokes out of his loose underwear. “Wanna see it, babe?”

“Can I?”

Eddie snorts. “Yes you abso-fucking-lutely can. Take it out, sweetheart. You can play with it a little,”

He moves to lay halfway beside you, legs dropped and slightly spread, hands on his back to support himself. You get on your knees, face aflame when Eddie’s eyes watch your every move with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You wonder how he could be so calm; if he felt the same nervous sensation overwhelm your core, both being neophyte to sex. Nevertheless, you’re not nervous enough that you want to stop.

But when you tug down on the band of his boxers and his cock vaults up, he tries to hide how overwhelmed he is. You ogle, and if you could, you would have foamed at the mouth at the sight of his thick girth, tip swell with precum, how a vein bulges beneath and how his sack hung heavy. A voice in the back of your mind wonders if he could even fit inside you but suddenly you’re starved.

“Pretty,” you breathe out, tongue licking your lips. “Dude, you’re big,”

“Thanks.” he blushes.

Gallantly, you swipe your hand across your slick heat to lubricate your palm. He visibly shudders, eyes glassy, groaning when your fingers enclose around him.

“Fuck,” your wrist gyrates, starts moving up and down on his length. Eddie’s hips buck into your fist, your movement leisurely, like you’re relishing the feeling of his hot cock in your hand. But you lean down, mimicking him earlier by letting a dollop of your spit drizzle down on top of his tip. “Oh- oh god, that felt good,”

You slant down to wrap your lips delicately around his engorged helmet. He moans, breath ruptured when you sink down onto him, taking only what you could and coat the rest with your trembling hand. “Fuck- shit- yeah, baby, your mouth’s amazing,”

He tries not to buck up into your mouth, restraining himself by carding a hand through your hair to cup it on the back of your head. His hearing becomes muffled, nothing but the opaque sound of birds, deluging it with your gurgles, your spit and his fluid that continues to leak from his slit leaking down to his balls. 

Eddie had imagined this once- twice- three, he doesn’t know. It had been too many to count and he feels bad thinking about it; what kind of normal person would imagine their friend being on their knees, naked, sucking on their cock?

You look up at him, eyes vast and credulously submissive with enameled innocence, like you’re repenting with his dick in your mouth, as if it had been your god and you beg for forgiveness for all the sins that you’ve caused.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph. Oh…fuck.

Cardinal paints the alabaster marble of his cheeks, brushing over it until it spreads down to his clenching neck and heaving chest as you imbibe his tip, suctioning your cheeks around his length and jerk him off. You look like you know what you’re doing, leading him to wonder if you’d done this before. He should be jealous, let that fraught warp in his mind and spread over his nerves until he stops you and begins to ask. But pleasure besets him, too much, that the question withers away into the carnal haze.

You gag and he almost cums. “Shit, ‘ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Eddie’s voice is rough, sweat dripping down his temples and onto his hair that settles over his shoulders. You break away from his head, moving down to lave your tongue up from the base above his sack to the ridge beneath his tip. “Ohhh- fuck,”

Eddie gently pulls himself off your mouth, his hand coming down to your cheek and raising your head. His cock grazes your upper lip when it pops out and arches to his stomach, leaking down his happy trail. A luster of his precum and your spit smears on your plump lips, mouth parted to take a short gasp of air as he pulls you up to him.

“How’d you learn how to do that?” he wipes the fluid off the corner of your lip, bringing you into a kiss because he misses you, and just because he wants to taste himself.

“Gave a guy head before I left New York,” you murmur against him. “He came all over my face and some of his cum went in my eye. Got pink eye for two weeks,”

He winces. “Ouch,”

Then he gives you a kiss on your eyelids, your laugh that he interrupts with his mouth, cajoling you with kisses as he lays you onto your back beneath him where he slots himself between your legs, his cock grazing your still sensitive folds that makes you whimper in his mouth.

Craving, Eddie’s hand ventures from your waist, squeezing your ample thigh, stopping on your calf to hike your leg up his waist. He grinds down onto you,  pressing his hardness against the swell of your cunt.

“Still want to do this?” he questions between wet kisses, your hands venturing the slope of his back. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t,” your eyebrows furrow in frustration. “I mean, I still want to do this. Christ, please,”

“Okay,” he breaks away, moving across you to check the basket. “Okay okay okay okay- fuck. Gareth forgot the fucking condoms.”

You stammer. “W-you knew we were going to have sex?”

“You never know,” he laughs nervously, copying you. “Um. I could pull out. I mean, I can’t exactly promise you I’d have the- the energy to do so. But I could just eat you out ‘till you’re okay. OH! Sixty-nine! We could do that! That way we’re both satisfied,”

“Eddie,” you reach between to grab his cock, squeezing lightly. His eyes flutter, groaning. “Just- just fuck me, okay? We can figure it out later.”

“Shit, okay,” he leans down to kiss you. “And I’m not gonna fuck you, babe,”

Eddie digs his nose into the crook of your neck, his hand replacing yours, slapping his tip on your bud. His forehead rests on your cheek when he does this, relishing in your small moan. “Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m gonna make love to you,” he lazily kisses your cheek. “‘Y need to stop being vulgar sometimes, sweetheart.”

He jabs at your entrance, before he slowly pushes himself in.

A searing pain threads around your cunt, chiefly at your entrance and your inner walls; though, when the pain spreads across your body, it numbs on your nerves, so the only thing burning was your sex. But Eddie’s taking it slow, agonizingly slow, feeling the tension that radiates. He comforts you through soft strokes against, kissing your cheek at every inch he pushes in.

When you wince once his pelvis pushes against your clit, Eddie lifts his head from your shoulder, his eye twitching lightly from holding back. He massages your thigh, other hand coming up to cup your face and rest his thumb on the corner of your eye when tears begin to form. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, trying not to move, but his tip’s right at your spot. “Do you want me to pull out? Does it hurt too much?”

“It’s supposed to hurt right?”

“Well, I heard it does,” he kisses your nose. “Sometimes it doesn’t for others, though,”

“Okay,” you chuckle lightly, grasping harder at his back.

It took almost a minute for the sting to retire, and he stayed pliant inside you, waiting until he felt your walls relax around him; until your crumbled face slackened and your mouth opened, letting out sacred breaths. 

“You can move now,” Eddie smiles, slanting his mouth against yours. His tongue explores your mouth, mouth staying closed around yours as he begins to pull out halfway, before he pushes back in slowly. 

Eddie sheathes himself inside you, an omnipotent surge of sybaritism divaricates your senses.  He brushes his hair behind your ears, gazing down at you even though your eyes are closed and you stare into a void with your body aflame. And he feels good- amazing, with every stretch that enkindles every nerve.

You look blissed beneath him, every bone submitting to every grind, every time his head hits that very spot that lets you create sensual croons, soft ones that it seems like you’re silently gasping with your parted lips. He places a kiss to where your eyebrows join, sloppy with his hedonistic thrust. 

It’s nothing but soft, breathless moans, his grunts and your whimpers when the pain numbs out, his lips moving down until he meets yours with his ever loving tongue brushing your bottom lip from the lax kiss. The tush of hair tickles your skin, his balls slapping gently against your ass, his hand leaving your thigh to push your silky coiffed hair off your shoulder. 

He doesn’t hurry, takes his time with you like he’s got every second of your lives, like you both don’t lack sleep. And Eddie can’t stop kissing every inch that he could reach — whether it be the hollow skin of your collarbone, or leaving bites on your neck to mark you, not because he claims your being but because he wants to own your heart. He kisses your cheekbones dampened by your tears, taking your hand from his back, leaning down to kiss the tattoo he stabbed onto your skin. 

“You can cry,” Eddie whispers. “I got you. You look so pretty, hm — fuck, my pretty, pretty girl.”

You let your tears fall down to his thumbs, slowly opening your eyes even though it stings to do so with the tears that prod at your eyeballs. Eddie smiles, clasping his hand around yours and kisses every calloused fingertip.

“Ah, Eddie,” your bottom lip juts out, letting the moans flow. “Feels- f-feels so good. Your cock feels amazing,”

“Shit, Mands, don’t say that,” he laughs weakly. “You’re gon’ make me cum faster than I intend to,”

Each thrust builds a bubble inside, until it explodes and floods you in rhapsodic waves. A heavy feeling that tells you that you’d never get sick of feeling him buried deep in your gummy walls, or of hearing his breathless moans, or the love that radiates through every caress of his that brings you comfort. 

The lacuna is almost not there, like he wants to melt his skin with yours. His sweat drips down to your bare chest, where his lips venture until he wraps his mouth around your sensitive nipples that had been chafing against his chest. You run your fingers through his hair, your hips lunging up to grind with his. 

Eddie’s definitely not fucking you. No, no with his velvet sighs, or with his naughty suckles. He’s making love to you like he said; like he promised. 

“You feel me making love to you?” you nod, taking his face down to smush it against yours. “Put your legs around me, sweetheart,”

You do, gently circling your legs around his waist, heel pressing onto the bottom of his spine. You feel yourself split open, suctioning his cock, driving him deeper. It’s when the lewd sounds increase their volume, whenever his heavy sack hits your wet cunt as he picks up the pace of his thrust, pushing in and in and in.

“Fuck,” you cry out, pulling lightly on his hair. When you suck on his collarbone, a claret bruise colors his pearlescent skin, his chest reddening from the amount of sanguine blood that flows through. “You’re so deep,”

“Can you look at me, honey?” your eyes force itself open to stare deep in his doe eyes, roaring with ecstasy, staring right at the windows of your soul. “Hi there, Mandy.”

Eddie gathers both your hands in one hand and pins them above you, which you meekly allow him to while his vacant one slithers itself between your bodies to rub on your clit. The words in your mouth turn into moans, getting drunk at the bliss. 

He moves faster, the sounds making it seem like he’s fucking you but you’re too lost to care. Eddie moans, keeps on nudging your nose whenever your eyes begin to flutter shut from lethargy.

“You’re taking me so well, hm?” he nips at your jawline. “Pretty little pussy just taking my cock, yeah?”

It’s just you and Eddie inside that abandoned home, you believe. You feel him carve his skin against yours like a promise, when you exchange your slick sweat and your breathy moans swallowed by his open mouth that hovers yours; his hips folding against yours in corybantic impetus. He refuses to close his eyes as if he’d lose you when he blinks, devotion swelling his waterline. 

He drills faster and deeper, the hollow and wet sound of your arousals spurs him on more. There’s a sting on the inside of your cunt, though too faint for it to even dwell in your mind. Then that now familiar feeling of something twisting at the bottom of your stomach comes to surface, burgons over your senses, and so did Eddie’s.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mewl softly. “I’m gonna cum, Eddie.”

“I know, baby,” his grip tightens on your wrists, his thumb on your clit adding pressure and fastens his rubs. Eddie wantonly fucks his cock inside you now, moaning at your small cries when he hits that spot over and over again. “I gotta pull out, okay?”

“No!” you push his chest against yours, locking your feet around him. “Cum- cum in me. Want it in me, please.”

And who was he to resist you?

(Someone who isn’t ready to be a father, technically. But he seriously couldn’t resist you.)

Eddie kisses over your fluttering pulse, his cock snug, pressing himself against your thighs. He continues rubbing your clit, his blunt nails pressing on the sides of your wrist. And he coaxes you through the billow of your orgasm. “That’s it, baby. Good girl- shit- oh, fuck, gonna cum inside this pussy, yeah? Gon’ give you all of me.”

You cum with a gasp, lewd sloshing from your pussy as you gush around him weakly. You feel his cock twitch inside you, right before he tries to muffle his moans by kissing you sloppily, mixing his sultry seed with yours when he slows his thrust, pushing it inside deeper.

He mouths at your chest, licking across the top of your breast before he works up your nipples. Eddie moves his hips again for a couple more times before he slowly pulls out of you.

Your legs fall to your sides. Eddie kisses your knees, massaging your legs, spreading them apart.

Then he pales. “Fuck, (y/n), you’re bleeding-”

“Huh?” your head lifts, seeing the small pink puddle beneath your ass. Eddie wipes his sweat on his thighs, reaching for his shirt that’s been thrown somewhere to wipe it across your cunt hastily. “Babe that’s normal…”

You hide your eyes behind your wrist, panting heavily. The pounding on his heart eases, gently wiping across your cunt. “Really?”

“To some. But I did,”

Eddie reaches for a new bottle of beer from the basket on top of your head, opening it with his teeth before he slots himself back between your legs. You prop yourself up to your elbows, his hand cupping below your mouth when he brings the bottle to your lips.

You drink the bittersweet liquor, swallowing slowly. He smiles at you. “You did a great job, yeah?” He kisses your forehead, and he can’t help but cheekily lather your cunt with his cum when he reaches down to slide his fingers between your semi-bleeding folds. 

“Ah-” you squirm away, gripping tightly onto him. “Ouch. Sen- sensitive, c-christ,”

“Sorry, baby,” he plucks his finger inside his mouth, morsel of cum and your blood filling his taste buds. “Couldn’t resist,”

Eddie slants his lips onto yours, letting your pulse relax in the frenzied mist, the afterglow ensnaring your beating hearts. You see that the moon grants his eyes a vermeil glow when he pulls back, skin glistening like stars in the night sky, luring you in for you to lose yourself in them — you do, basking in the comfort of his gaze, pilfering your soul.

Double-cross the vacant and the bored

They’re not sure just what we have in store

In November of 1979, Eddie Munson stood breathless on the stage of the theater room for the Middle School Talent Show, electric guitar in hand, buzzed hair drenched with sweat that dripped down to his Bauhaus black shirt. The aftermath of his oh-so-metal performance of Breaking The Law left the parents clapping scatteredly, and his classmates hollering and yelling from their seats.

He looked back on his then bandmates and little Gareth who sat proudly behind the large drum set. Eddie laughed, clapped with them before he genuflected, ignoring the judgemental stares of conservative parents who watched his every move as he walked down the stage.

“Well, that was a very loud and brazen performance from… Corroded Coffin,” Mr. Clarke smiled brightly at them, holding the card in his hand. “Up next we have a very, very lovely girl named-”

He said a name, which Eddie deemed as the girl who sat in front of him during History, who wrote things on top of her books that he recognized were lyrics he’s unfamiliar to. Eddie ran his hand across his buzzed head, looking around and wondered where that girl may be.

Little Gareth stood beside Eddie, who pointed behind to the backdoors. When he turned, the doors were swinging open, the exit seen through the small window where he saw her running away to Hawkins High.

Eddie patted his friend’s back, deciding to follow that girl in a purple dress and short pigtails that disappeared into the darkness of the school parking lot.

The doors slammed against the walls, twice, and he ran and ran until he reached Hawkins High where she hid. He roamed the unfamiliar walls, knocking against the dents of the lockers, until he heard the gentle sound of piano from the music room nearby.

Like an angel’s cry for help, as he remembered. The tune of that song his uncle sang every morning familiarizes itself in his eardrums. Eddie approached the door, peaked through the small window, and saw

You.

Your back to him, back hunched, purple dress resting down to your knees with your hands idly pressed at the keys with a melancholy mist surrounding you. Eddie listened to you sing, a couple pitches wrong but nevertheless soft and dulcet, even though he heard something restraining your throat with what seemed to be held back sobs.

“Oh Mandy, well you came—”

When he stormed in, the doorknob slamming at the wall, you yelled, high pitched and laced with fear. Eddie’s eyes had widened and closed the door, placing a finger up to his lips to shush you.

“Hey- hey hey hey no, shh, quiet—” he lunged at you, cupping his hand over your mouth. Your screams had died instantly, though your eyes remained wide with distress and tears that stained his hand. You placed your hands on the bench, waiting until Eddie removed his hands from your mouth.

He saw that you had missing teeth like his, both on the same spot when you hissed at him. That you looked like you had been freshly crying (which you were) with your lips pouted and eyes stained red with the tears that priced your eyes.

Once his hand returned to his side, you kicked his shin, hard enough that Eddie knew he’d have a bruise (he did. A big one that lasted for a week). He winced loudly, rubbing the spot “What is wrong with you? Why didn't you knock?”

“Dramatic entrance,” he spread his arms, bowing down to you like he’d just finished a show. “I didn't mean to scare you like that. S-sorry. Are you okay?”

You had surveyed his intimidating demeanor of oversized black Bauhaus tee, ripped jeans, a single skeleton ring with a slick buzzcut that shone from the fluorescent lights of the music room with puffy eyes. Eddie felt that nervousness bubble in his stomach, knowing how well you’re judging him. But your posture remained relaxed and you showed no ounce of fear so he thought that was new.

When you remained silent, he took the opportunity to speak again. “My uncle loves that song,” he sat beside you, making you scoot over. “He sings it almost every morning.”

“Mandy?” you said, fiddling with your fingers, sniffing.

“Yeah,” his tongue prods at the gaps between his teeth, feeling the gums that protected his adult teeth. “Oh, Mandy. Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shaking,” 

You smiled weakly, sniffling. “My mom likes it too,” 

“Really?” You nodded, tugging on your dress. “I wouldn’t blame her. I like it, too.” Eddie had reached for his pocket, pulling on his skull handkerchief as he spoke again. “Why did you run away? You were next and you ran.”

“I was nervous,” you huffed, tears welled your eyes. “Tammy Thompson said I sounded like a muppet singing so I ran away so I wouldn't embarrass myself,”

Eddie gasped. “She said that?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s the one who sounds like a muppet.” 

You gawped. “No she doesn’t!”

“Yes she does!” Eddie pressed his fingers on either side of his nose, before he began singing in a voice shrill and deafening that made you laugh hard. “Yesterday's a dream- oh! I face the morning yeah yeah crying on a breeze woah ooh The pain is calling- aaaaaaa!!”

You laughed beside him, both your small chests aching for the lack of breath that had been wheezed out, cheeks strained and eyes welled with tears. “Okay, maybe she does sound like that,” your smile withered. “But, what if she’s right?”

 “She isn’t.”

“You didn't even hear me sing,”

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie scooted closer, bumping his arm with yours. “You sounded cool. You sounded like an angel. A pretty metal angel.”

You remembered that it had been the first time you blushed — thirteen year old Eddie Munson, who still had baby teeth at his age, had been the receiving end of that bashful smile; you remembered that he asked if you could play, and you did, with the ends of your purple dress tickling his knees that exposed from his jeans.

“Metal?” Eddie nodded. “I was playing the piano.”

“Well, anything can be metal,” he pulled out his handkerchief. “Crying is metal. Singing is metal. This chair,” he used his other hand to grasp at the leg of the bench and shook it, making you giggle. “Is metal.”

That night, not only did Eddie Munson offer you his handkerchief for aid (that he wiped beneath your nose himself, unbothered by the thick snot dampening the fabric), but he offered you friendship. He offered you comfort and validation, and you offered him acceptance. 

That he proceeded to compliment not just your voice but your hair and your dress. Eddie Munson made you comfortable that night, had kindled something between the two of you that you called a friendship. He watched you play that piano in the music room unabashedly and confidently, him being your first ever audience, and Eddie stood up from the bench, and clapped at you like you’d performed at a concert.

That he sang Don’t Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult (and gave you a mixtape right before you left) in front of you so you’d get even.

He took your feelings seriously, said that you’d do great and it’s normal to get nervous before a performance; talked to you with his innocent, doe-eyes gaze with his hand on your shoulder for comfort.

And that he watched you, standing in front of the crowd, cheering you on as you sang Mandy with full confidence and carelessness of the judgemental eyes and insults from Tammy Thompson.

You went back home with the thought of that boy with a buzzcut that made you smile brighter than anyone else had. And you had a silly little childish crush on him for god knows how long. 

But Eddie had a crush on you until 1982, where he unfortunately started to forget. And you, the same.

Yet he never forgot. He always thought about that girl in the pretty purple dress who had a pretty smile and a cute laugh, who gave him a kiss on the cheek for cheering her on during the talent show. 

He thought about her — you — every night before going to bed and he dreamt of you. 

And now, here in 1986 where you sat on the passenger seat of his car with a cigarette in your mouth, racing the borrowed time before the sun begins to rise, the open window that blew the hair out of your face as you stared out with a blissed smile, Eddie realizes he’s been playing that dangerous love game since he was thirteen.

That he’s already charged Vecna and his swarm of bats with nothing more than a blunt spear, courage, a dream and a crush that blossomed into love. He’s been there since 1979, having it paused for four years before returning to the Upside Down when you came back.

He’s already played that dangerous game of love and now, he’s killed Vecna with a stake through his heart and won.

Eddie parks his car beside the broken fence of weathertop, the black sky now a bright shade of gray. You smile at him, unbuckling your seatbelt, before you simultaneously open the doors together and exit.

You hold the basket in your hand, the other laced around Eddie’s, climbing up that hill until you reach that spot you both were in weeks ago, with the tall grass tickling your bare ankles, hands tight against each other, a silent promise of protection as he holds you close to him. 

Your equilibrium is askew from earlier events, his shirt hangs well over your body that tickles your sensitive skin, and Eddie actually is shirtless, after unfortunately getting too much dust on your dress. 

But he feels free, standing on top of the hill with his tattoos and the love of his life holding his hand. When the white clouds start to emerge and levitate above him, its shapeshifting glory; pertinently gifting you with peaceful vapor that flows through the town. 

You both sat down, and soon you’ve both got a sandwich and a beer in your hands, sitting side by side, watching as the sun deliberately rises from the earth. You rest your head on his shoulder, munching on the sandwich, bottles balanced between your legs.

“No wonder why your mom’s eager to watch the sunrise,” you smell his musk of faint sex and cigarettes. Eddie presses a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s beautiful,”

He looks at you, the afterglow of sex still dawned on your vogue. You rip a piece of bread off and pop it into your mouth, and Eddie says, “I love you,”

You look up at him, the warm, dandelion smolder of the sun illuminates your face stupendously. He doesn't need to go further into detail how pretty you looked. 

But you? — with all the darkness of the world put on pause like some movie, the pastel colors of dawn that crawl up from his chin to the entirety of his face, his tangled mush of curls that frame his picturesque, devilishly handsome face, it heralds safety; love and adoration that you harbor for this man. 

“Yeah?” you press your chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t peg you as the type to fall after sex, Munson,”

“Oh, sweetheart, I fell a long time ago,” he rubs his nose against yours. “I just forgot,”

“How romantic,”

Eddie places his sandwich on his lap, just so he could push your hair behind your ear and stare at you. So he could see you, validating you for all your worth. 

You both sit there, on the field just where your bones will rest, until it withers into dust and disappear behind those dirt and stone and go one like you both never existed. But death was the least of your concerns, relishing in the moment you have with this person who'd given you validation when you sought for it (and Eddie, who stares at you with such devotion like you'd given him everything he fought for — acceptance).

“But yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe me too,”

He leans down to kiss you. And when the sun rises and coats you with its celestial brilliance, with his kiss chaste and soft and so loving, you break away with a small click created by your wet, plump lips.

“I love you,” you say. And you mean it.

songs played by sequence: unnamed Mötley Crüe song/ Mandy - Barry Manilow/ Your Love - The Outfield/ Third Uncle - Bauhaus/ Marian - Sisters of Mercy/ Message in a Bottle - The Police/ I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P./ I Want To Know What Love Is - The Foreigner/ Paranoid - Black Sabbath/ Breaking the Law - Judas Priest/ Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - The Police/ Broken Wings - Mr. Mister/ Runnin' With the Devil - Van Halen/ Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel/ 1979 - The Smashing Pumpkins (not in the fic)

special thanks to @poppy-metal and her very horny anons who inspired me for the smut i love u

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED 💕

[justbrainrot]

It’s time for my Legendborn characters' sexuality headcanons to be out into the world:

(Disclaimer: yes some of these characters are underage. I know. Folks’ preferences don’t come in the mail with their voter registration though. Don’t come for me about these entirely fictional characters because I’ll just block you and that’s not gratifying for either of us, ‘kay?)

That being said there is a cut this is all gonna live under lol

Bree: Our girl’s motto is, “I’ll try anything once. Or twice! Maybe it’s an acquired taste.” I mean listen, she has almost no experience prior to meeting these dudes, but she does have her big big brain & Alice. So she’s well read iykwim. And has an inherently queer sensibility when she thinks about relationships, despite how things may look from the outside. She really enjoys the negotiation prior to a scene, which makes her a natural at this poly thing. Also, she’s a switch.

Identifies as: Queer

Sel: Baby boy is a service bottom. I mean if this isn’t obvious to you maybe we can’t be friends lol. He enjoys both lightly applied sensation & some pretty heavy pain on occasion. He will definitely top & top well when told to. Sensory deprivation is 100% his jam because it turns his brain off just a li’l bit.

Identifies as: Pansexual (this is canon btw, I didn’t make this part up)

Nick: Oh my darling! Nick is the most vanilla of our trio, but that’s not saying much because, well, have you met the other two lol. He is a natural dom but is also patently disgusted by all the trappings of dominant white cishet dudes in our culture. So he’s also a unicorn, bless ‘im. He is deeply in love with Bree, which is obvious to anyone with eyes, but his feelings for Sel have been clouded by the Kingsmage Oath for so long that when it’s removed, it takes him a minute to work out that he’s in love with Sel also.

Identifies as: Bisexual

Alice: First I need to say that Alice rocks a sick lesbian manicure seven days a week & if that isn’t the hottest way to flag I don’t know what is. She is solidly femme4femme, & knows how to top from below so smoothly you’ll have no idea it’s happening until you are wondering if you forgot to set your face because it’s dripping into your eyes all of a sudden.

Identifies as: Lesbian

William: This dude is a gentleman first & foremost; he ofc redefines making enthusiastic consent sexy as hell. He is uncomfortable having sexytimes when he has Gawain’s strength at noon & midnight, so he has deftly avoided it thusfar. Dating Lark might change that, though, I’m thinking. He’s not dated within the Order before, after all. Pretty vanilla guy, all things considered, but that does not mean boring!

Identifies as: Gay

Mariah: at first I didn't think I had a handle on Mariah, but now I'm thinking she is either ace or just isn't in a place where sexuality is all that important in her life atm and she's fine with it. She's def down to be a soundboard for her friends though, and is wicked smart, so for these reasons she knows the most about what's going on with everyone else but is the soul of discretion.

There will be a part two because this hellsite gets buggier the longer my posts get, apparently.

Edit: part two ✨here✨

[namor-shuri]

Did you see that recent post about your page? Antis are so funny 😭

I’m crying because after I posted that meme post yesterday, I was scrolling through the Nashuri tag and then saw it 🥴 I literally made a dumb meme joking about Antis saying we need to be locked up, and didn’t realize someone literally said that hours prior. It doesn’t get better than that rofl. What’s sending me was their initial outrage of Nashuri [which babe, have you been living under a rock?], then the assumption that I romantically ship Tenoch & Tish from a quick bio glance, THEN after all of the “horror” and “shock”, they proceed to not block me. You’re telling me you posted screenshots of you blocking my page to ultimately not…..block……me? Righhhhhhhttttttt *rubs temples*

- - - - - - - - o o O o o - - - - - - - -

I literally don’t owe anyone this BUT this is for the folks that are new to my blog/Nashuri fandom/etc:

#1. Hey 💜 This is BOTH a Nashuri [Namor x Shuri] blog AND Tenoch Huerta + Letitia Wright appreciation blog. What does that mean? It means my blog is about anything related to A. Tenoch Huerta + his life/roles etc B. Letitia Wright + her life/roles etc and C. Their adorable dynamic together. It’s a hodgepodge of random stuff. One big ice cream shop where you can pick your flavor of choice. So Nashuri shippers interact with me, Namor fans, Shuri fans , Letitia, Tenoch and so on. You get the idea. I love how open-ended my page is and that’s why I made it that way in the first place. Everyone is welcome here and can walk away with a little bit of something. For being such a miscellaneous page, I would say the only “agenda” I push is Nashuri [it’s in my name]. The rest of my content is up to your own personal interpretation/assumptions. What you think I’m pushing or trying to say is all your take and your take alone, beloved. It has nothing to do with me.

#2. I admit that my mouth has gotten me in a little bit of trouble over the years lol. I was literally that little kid that came back with a report card with straight A’s that had a teacher’s note on the side saying “Talks too much in class”. I think and say shit ALL. THE. TIME rofl Yes, I sprinkle in deep rants and knowledgeable takes on my blog but I made this page to be a menace. I’m only here to be entertained. A majority of my page are jokes and tomfoolery. The complete opposite of “be for real”. How can I be when I’m literally shipping a fictional fish stick and a fictional woman in a cat suit?? 🤣 I’ve spoken about it before but I’m also an artist [my professional work is 1000% unrelated to this page/content lol] so alot of my page is also random graphics and stuff like that too. I love making y’all and myself laugh and it’s been enjoyable af interacting with you, especially the Nashuri fandom. Y’all are straight up comedians and say the funniest shit, which then makes me want to say even more wild shit and then it becomes a snowball effect lol. Thankfully I can tell a majority of you who do follow/interact with me are grown so you’ve picked up by now that most of my blog is A BIT. But unfortunately there’s always going to be a sprinkle of people who are clearly young, new here or just folks that don’t get my sense of humor whatsoever. And whichever category you fall under it’s okay, but babes there are a lot of 18+ jokes/comments on my page so if you are someone that is underage and or gets easily offended, please do yourself a favor and stay clear. I mean that in the nicest way possible.

#3. I wrote this on a reblog to someone’s post recently but I have a large portion of blogs blocked on the tags that I follow on here. Life has been ✨𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒻𝓊𝓁✨ ever since and it only takes .2 seconds out of your day to do it. So when I don’t see people utilize the block button, I just know their not being fr and are clearly bored. If you don’t like my content, block/mute me. Simple as that. Because chances are, I’ve probably already blocked you by now. And to the people I haven’t, I either A. enjoy/interact with the content you make or B. don’t care for it but you usually stay out of my lane and I stay out of yours so we just coexist. It’s that black and white. You don’t have to like what someone posts but what isn’t cool is bothering/targeting someone on an app strictly because of that. What are you five? This feels like a lesson we learned in elementary school. It’s not rocket science and it’s never that serious. The world does not revolve around you nor adhere to things only you deem okay. It’s much bigger than that. Get a grip, go drink some water, eat something and make sure to touch some grass today while you’re at it.

- - - - - - - - o o O o o - - - - - - - -

Shout out to that page tho! I literally gained new followers after that, so…..thank you? 😅 What a time to be alive. But for real, ya’ll have been coming out of nowhere to support and it’s been super dope. I really appreciate all the love, especially for being such a new page. I’m looking forward to future shenanigans, continuing the fun and not taking shit too seriously per usual. Live your best life, folks. Don’t let anyone rain on your parade. Life is WAY too short for that.

Ps: To my new followers, check out the post pinned to my page here. It’s a great “intro” into the Nashuri fandom and or actors Tenoch Huerta / Letitia Wright. Some things might be a little old but it’s pretty useful for the most part. My old poll results post gives you a slight idea of me as well. See y’all around ✌🏾💗

[lemonhemlock]

Heeeyy, it’s the anon who sent in an ask a while ago about shipping Alicent with others out of spite. Feel free to ignore this ask if you’re tired of ship asks (I see you’ve already received more than enough lol) or if it’ll start any unnecessary discourse you’d rather avoid.

Just wanted to pop in and say that most people on Twitter are not okay. I had no followers nor was I following anyone and I had people screenshot a very innocuous Alicole tweet (it was literally a picture of a lady and her knight, basic) and talk badly of me - apparently I am lesbophobic and Cole is misogynist with anger issues 🤷‍♀️. Newsflash: Rhaenicent is not a healthy ship either, none of ASOIAF ships are.

I then came out as a Larycent shipper. I got ratioed (as much as, again, someone with no followers can).

Anyways, I got bored and deactivated but before I did, things got messy. There was group chat drama, people were saying pro-shippers deserve to be bullied etc.

All this to say that I am frustrated with the performative activism this fandom participates in, though I’m sure the same can be said for other fandoms. What’s the point of defending a celebrity by insulting another celebrity, or worse, another user? (Sorry but I’ll sympathize with a “regular” person over a celebrity any day. Imo, they don’t really care about bullying, they just project onto their favorite character or celebrity.) What makes one inherently morally better by being an “anti” but turn around and shit-talk people’s appearances or character? Real people with real lives and issues. Characters are fictional they do not exist, it comes off as disingenuous and self-righteous. I need people to do better.

Thanks for entertaining this ask, hope you’re doing well!

welcome back, anon. i hope you're doing well, too; don't allow this pointless drama more headspace beyond it being a funny anecdote. also, by this point, you guys should check-in using stage names. :)) or serial killer names. or maybe racing horse names ?? (those are always funny)

I had no followers nor was I following anyone and I had people screenshot a very innocuous Alicole tweet (it was literally a picture of a lady and her knight, basic) and talk badly of me - apparently I am lesbophobic and Cole is misogynist with anger issues

wow, how did they even manage to find you out in a sea of accounts with no followers or following anybody? i can understand the logic of dogpilling on a popular account, because they're visible in the fandom, but this? don't these people have, idk, jobs? do they not have to go to the grocery store or smth? what kind of lame-ass surveillance state? 😂

Newsflash: Rhaenicent is not a healthy ship either, none of ASOIAF ships are.

this is why shipping wars are even stupider in asoiaf-verse. what exactly moral high ground do you think you're defending here? i keep hearing "at least it's not an inc3st ship" well ok congratulations they're fucked up & unhealthy in a different way then?

I then came out as a Larycent shipper. I got ratioed (as much as, again, someone with no followers can).

ohhhhh anon you're a brave one with larycent there! i gotta say i was into it at the beginning bc he was super fucking yandere about it to the point of it being hilarious and, also, who can resist murderous puppy dog eyes ??? but the latter part of the season, esp. ep 9, put me off and i fed myself on the green family dynamics crumbs

Anyways, I got bored and deactivated but before I did, things got messy. There was group chat drama, people were saying pro-shippers deserve to be bullied etc.

group chat drama? is that a discord thing? i feel like it's a discord thing. this is so funny to me bc the only way "group chat drama" leaks is if you have traitors in your midst who screencap and then spread it around. so who are these conspirators? these subversive agents? these freedom fighters? who watches the watchers? 😅

What makes one inherently morally better by being an “anti” but turn around and shit-talk people’s appearances or character? Real people with real lives and issues.

they end up appearance-shaming and have zero self-awareness about it? oh me oh my 💅

performative activism is a very good word for what the moral panic that has taken hold of this fandom, at least on tumblr/twitter. another thing that makes me laugh is when people write page-long essays saying "ofc you can ship whatever you want, BUT..." followed by an entire diatribe on why shipping said thing (even if it's within the confines of fiction and decidedly not irl) puts a stain on your moral character and you should basically be ashamed of yourself 😂 so which is it? can people ship in peace or do you just want a pat on the head for being a good trooper?

[mbtiblogfun]

Meet the Admin!!

A bit late but I'm going to pin this post for future viewers!

🌸 The Basics 🌺

Name: Kat

Age: 17

Pronouns: she/they

Country: USA

Typology: INFP 6w5 694 sp/so EII FEVL Phlegmatic [Dominant]

🌟 About the Blog 💫

What's the main purpose of this blog?

This blog mostly focuses on INFP related content. I'm not super knowledgeable when it comes to typology, so I mainly just focus on INFPs in my posts. It made the most sense to me because it's my own type, so obviously I have the most knowledge on it lol. Of course, anyone can enjoy this blog if they want! Not just INFPs!

Stuff I've done:

INFPs irl and in fiction

INFP moodboards (based on the enneagrams that fit w the type)

INFP playlist

Examples of romantic relationships between INFPs and other types in fiction

And more!

Why did I create this blog?

I’ve had an interest in typology for a while. I think my main goal was just to create fun content for myself and others to enjoy. I've always wanted see more of this kind of content when it comes to mbti, because a lot of people take it too seriously imo. I see a lot of people using typology to dictate their entire views on themselves and other people, and while I have a huge interest in psychology, using mbti to form your opinions on other is no better than using astrology to do so. Mbti is a pseudoscience anyway, so this blog is really just meant to be fun!

🍰 More About Me 🧁

Astrology: Aquarius sun, Leo moon

Fav color: pink

Fav food: Domino's Pizza or Shake Shack

Top 3 Movies: Fantastic Mr. Fox, Before Sunrise, and But I'm a Cheerleader

Top 3 Shows: Stranger Things, Narcos, and Hannibal

Top 3 Anime: Attack on Titan, Yuri on Ice, and Sailor Moon

Top 3 Video Games: Minecraft, Animal Crossing, and Mario Kart

Top 3 Artists: Lana Del Rey, Arctic Monkeys, and Cigarettes After Sex

Top 3 Books: The Book Thief, Song of Achilles, and Rebecca

Other Hobbies: writing and drawing

🌙 Typology Journey ☁️

How'd I get into mbti? Well basically it all started one day in 5th grade. I was bored and procrastinating classwork lol. I've always enjoyed taking tests that analyze your personality (like the uquiz ones), and so I googled "personality tests." Then sure enough I came across 16p, and my obsession with typology began. I got INFP-A the first time, and I've gotten INFP-T ever since. I sent the test to like everyone I knew cus I wanted to compare results w them, and I got really into mbti skits and youtubers (basically Frank James lmao).

Then a couple years later I discovered PDB (Personality Database) after looking up "infp fictional characters" or something like that. I then found out that 16p wasn't super accurate or something, because they typed people by letters and not the cognitive functions. I actually had no idea what they were and why they were important, or why letter typing was "less accurate." It turns out letter-typing is frowned upon and seen as less accurate by like half the community because the cognitive functions were actually part of the original theory. I learned that the letters are basically just an oversimplified version of the actual functions in order to help beginners understand better, but when you type someone you don’t actually ask if they're more introverted or extroverted and what not.

Anyway now back to the important stuff lol.

I was one of the lucky people who was actually typed correctly by PDB. I took more "accurate" tests like Sakinorva and Keys2Cog, but I still got INFP even then. I even read more about the functions and my type online through my own research, after I found out that even the more "accurate" tests weren't always reliable. I also asked a few of my friends I met through PDB, who understood mbti better than I did, and asked them. Pretty much everyone said I was an INFP, so there was that.

As for enneagram, I just took a test and got 2w1. I didn't have as much knowledge on enneagram, so I went with that. Then when I asked people what they thought for my enneagram, a few people said 4w5, and once again I didn't question it. As for my tritype and ivs those were pretty easy to figure out with some explanation, and I went with 496.

But for a while I always found myself relating to the 9 traits more than 4 traits, especially sx 9. And a lot of people actually agreed with me, some said my 9 traits were too strong to only be one of my fixes, so then I typed as INFP 9w1 for a while.

And then, pretty recently I found out that was actually impossible. As you may know, not all type combinations are possible—and that includes INFPs and 9s. At first I thought people were being stupid and over-exaggerating, how would their traits contradict? But then I eventually found out that most "INFP 9s" are actually 6s, because 6s and 9s look very similar— especially sp 6s. So yea now I'm officially INFP 6w5! I basically ended up switching around my tritype order a bunch of times lol

As for the other parts of my typology, like socionics. I didn't really put much effort into that lol. I can somewhat understand mbti and enneagram, but I barely understand anything else. So once again I asked other people what they thought and pretty much everyone agreed on EII, and that was it!

So yea, sorry that was so long lmao. Thanks for reading! :)

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: as someone who’s been tormented for being a nerd, you’ve never viewed your friendly teasing towards your best friend seonghwa as bullying. but that is until he completely changes his style and image in school, confronting you about your past behaviour, so you have no choice but to admit the real reason why you’ve been making fun of him...

pairing: popular boy!seonghwa x nerd!reader

genre: high school!AU (the characters are 18 for the spicy parts huehehe), best friends to fake dating to lovers, angst, romance, smut, fluff

warnings: friendly teasing, clichéd/unrealistic portrayal of high school dynamics, hwa does kabedon on yn like once, seonghwa’s a bit of a tsundere, fake dating, hints of possessiveness, slightly problematic remarks, yn is briefly hwa’s slave?! (no, i will not elaborate), bullying, mean girls, insults, hair-pulling, kicking, death threats, some swearing, self-blame, power play, overuse of pet names (princess, baby, little girl, etc.), sir kink (i won’t apologize lol), begging, yunho being nosy (yes, that’s a warning), mention of hypothetical collars, insecurities, making out, loss of virginities, lots of kissing, soft dom!hwa, eating out, fingering, blowjob, consensual protected sex, dirty talk, praising, aftercare, crying, hurt&comfort, a lot of dorky references (cuz that’s me, after all), jumping off a balcony (don’t try this at home!), happy ending

author���s note: will i ever stop bullying poor hwa’s kermit hoodie? no. jk, i lov him so much, he’s so talented & gorgeous no matter what he wears ;-;

disclaimer: all jokes aside, i do not in any way condone bullying and this work is entirely fictional for entertainment purposes! i’ve been physically and emotionally tormented in school and though i have not talked much about it, i do not wish such an experience to anyone! treating people with kindness is cool and i hope everyone spreads more love! ❤️

word count: 9.4k

Having been best friends with Seonghwa for four years now (ever since your first year in high school), you couldn’t help but making fun of every little adorable thing he did. And honestly, you admired his patience when it came to putting up with your incessant teasing. Diligently cleaning up everything after him? You’d call him a neat freak. Not being able to drink coffee? You’d call him a teacup loser. 

So, when he started wearing that green hoodie of his to school, you couldn’t resist the temptation to call him Kermit the frog. And at first, it all started as a joke. But then the nickname kinda stuck and you just kept addressing him as Kermit, even if he wasn’t wearing the delectable green hoodie. And at one point, you could tell that poor Seonghwa was not a huge fan of the whole thing. But he never called you out on it or told you to stop. He never teased you back for being a hopeless nerd who studied 24/7 and read books for fun. So, you kept going.

Until the summer before your last year in high school arrived. Sadly, Seonghwa was going to be out of the country for the whole vacation. You were going to miss him terribly, you realized. You had become so used to seeing him everyday that you couldn’t imagine how you’d last three months without being able to see his pretty face all the time. You’d occasionally text him memes and ask him what he was up to. But as the summer was coming to an end, his replies became less and less frequent, more and more concise. You kept wondering if you’d done something wrong. It couldn’t be the Kermit thing, you began telling yourself. After all, it was normal to tease your best friend every once in a while. Right?

When the first day of your last year in high school came, you were nervously anticipating the moment when you’d see Seonghwa again. Summer without him had been so boring and you couldn’t wait to hug him again and find a new thing to joke about.

The second you saw him, you instinctively knew there would be no more joking around. Seonghwa practically walked into the school hallway like he owned the place. He’d completely changed his style and overall image. Gone were the dorky hoodies you secretly loved so much. Instead, they were replaced by a black leather jacket. Gone were the casual sweatpants he looked so good in. In their place were dark jeans that made him look kinda dangerous. And the whole confidence with which he carried himself was just totally different. 

If you had known that a summer abroad could change a person so much, you would have tried harder at convincing him to stay in the country. On top of it all, he was now hanging out with a bunch of popular a-holes that you had never talked to before. Honestly, you couldn’t even gather the courage to approach your best friend. He looked so distant and unfamiliar that you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Especially when you heard him laughing at the cool kids’ jokes. That should have been you...

You remembered when you were the one making him giggle, as if it was a century ago, when in reality it was just a couple of months. You kept sighing during the whole day, not daring to even talk to him. If he wanted to still hang out with you after his sudden “change in status”, he would, you kept convincing yourself. But he didn’t. In fact, he ignored you the whole day, making you feel like shit.

Just as you were leaving the school building in a hurry, mentally prepared for an evening of crying your eyes out and eating ice cream, you felt a hand grabbing you tightly. Turning around, you were surprised to find Seonghwa’s eyes staring back at you.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted you calmly.

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you responded dumbly.

“What? No witty comeback?” Seonghwa scoffed, smirking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you gonna bully me and call me names again? Kermit? Teacup loser? Neat freak? What’s it gonna be this time?” he spat out, pushing you against the school wall and extending his arms to touch the cold bricks so that you would feel trapped.

“Bully you?” you whispered in disbelief. “H-hwa, I wasn’t...I didn’t m-mean...”

“Oh, yeah?” he mocked your stuttering self. “Then, why did you say all these things, huh?”

“You know why,” you replied.

“No, I don’t. So, tell me right now or I swear, I can make your existence a living hell,” Seonghwa threatened.

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you cried out. “I like you so that’s why I’ve been teasing you. Because if I didn’t, I would have to admit how attractive I find all your habits. How adorable it is when you used to tidy your desk and how sexy you looked in that damned green hoodie. There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

You were so frustrated with the way he ignored you all day only to accuse you of bullying him that you ducked your head swiftly beneath his arm, simultaneously bending your knees, and, thus, successfully escaping from Seonghwa’s ambush.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after you, but you were running too fast and luck was on your side, as the bus arrived at that exact same moment, allowing you to get on it, before he could.

You couldn’t sleep much that night, tormented by the fact Seonghwa had confused your friendly jokes with bullying and how foolishly you’d confessed your feelings for him. You were certain that your affections were unrequited and now that he had this whole new position in the school hierarchy, he would undoubtedly make fun of you for them. You were even considering transferring to another school to avoid the potential embarrassment.

In the morning, no sooner had you finished breakfast in the comfort of your room than you heard loud honks. They were unlike the ones in your dad’s car so you couldn’t help but wonder what jerk had decided to park in front of your house and make your day even worse.

“Sweetie,” your mom informed you a bit after. “Your friend Seonghwa is here. He said he’ll drive you to school today. As promised.”

“He did?” you mumbled in confusion. But maybe because you weren’t ready to talk to your mom yet about what happened yesterday, you lied. “Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot.”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your bag and practically sprinted downstairs. You were curious to see what he wanted. And that’s exactly what you asked the minute you entered his car.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aw, no good morning for me, princess?” Seonghwa pouted and God, you hated how cute you found him after the way he’d treated you the previous day. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he rolled his eyes, starting the engine. “I’m driving you to school.”

“I can see that. But why?” you hissed.

“Well, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he groaned. “If you’re so insistent on finding out, I’ll tell you. Ever since you told me how you felt yesterday, I’ve been thinking...And I’ve come to the conclusion that you have two options. Option number one is to enjoy your hellish last year of high school. You’ve had your fair share of teasing me so I’m definitely going to enjoy telling everyone about your little crush on me. It’s going to be so much fun to embarrass you in front of the whole school.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Seonghwa was supposed to be your best friend! Why was he suddenly acting like you were worth less than a dirty rug? Was it possible that he had changed so much in the span of three months? Or was he always like that? Had you been blinded by his good looks? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was the sweetest guy you’d ever known. How did he get so...cold? Cold enough to chill your bones.

“And what’s option number two?” you grunted, already anticipating the worst.

“So, there’s this annoying girl in our class I want to avoid at all costs. Just because her parents are doing business with mine does not mean I’m into her. Option number two is for us to pretend we’re dating in school. Considering how much you like me, I’m assuming it won’t be very difficult for you to pretend. If you agree, that is.”

What a jerk...You shared your sincere feelings with your best friend and that’s the first thing that crossed his mind? To use you in order to avoid some random girl? If it was any other guy, you would have said no. If you weren’t desperate for even a fraction of Seonghwa’s time and attention, you would have said no. If you weren’t so pathetically whipped for him, you would have said no.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “For how long do you need me to be your fake girlfriend?”

“Just until graduation. Then, we’ll fake break up and each go our separate ways. How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible! You wanted Seonghwa to be a part of your life forever. But with the way he was treating you, you weren’t confident he felt the same way anymore.

“Sounds great,” you lied, because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing your thoughts. You’d never be perceived as weak again.

The second you walked into school, Seonghwa’s arm wrapped possessively around your shoulder, everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like high-schoolers had no better thing to occupy their time with but to gossip around the latest dating news. If you weren’t enjoying his company so much, you would have found their reactions pathetic. And somewhat unnerving.

“When did you two lovebirds start seeing each other?” one of Seonghwa’s popular friends Yunho asked.

“Oh, you know what they say. A girl and a guy can’t stay just friends for long,” Seonghwa responded.

You internally rolled your eyes. Your best friend before the summer would have never said such a thing. Whatever the reason for his current behaviour was, you would get to the bottom of it. And right now, you felt like going along with this whole fake dating thing was your best chance at unraveling the mystery.

For the first day of your little arrangement, everything seemed to be going fine. Everyone was staring at you two but you didn’t mind. All you cared about was him. However, soon enough Seonghwa started asking you for weird things.

“Carry my bag for me.” / “Get me a drink from the vending machine, will you?” / “Bring me a snack from the supermarket across the street.” / “Oh, and for my friends, too, doll.”

Seriously, it was getting infuriating. You no longer felt like you were his bestie. You didn’t even feel like you were his fake girlfriend. At this point, you had practically become his slave! Running any errand and carrying his stuff for him. But what was the alternative? If you refused to play your part in this pretend dating scheme, he could easily turn against you and make fun of you in front of the whole school. So, you kept your mouth shut and swallowed your pride.

One evening, around a month after the fake dating agreement had started, you had stayed in the library a bit longer to prepare for an upcoming assignment. By the time you were out of the school building, you supposed that Seonghwa had already gone home. Frankly, the only nice thing he was intent on doing for you was driving you to school and back to your place most of the days.

As you were making your way towards the bus stop, you had the strangest suspicion you were being followed. Not daring to turn around, you started walking faster. But unfortunately, your attackers also sped up and soon enough, you were surrounded by a group of angry faces. Their leader was obviously Eunhee, the most popular girl in the whole school. And coincidentally, this was also the girl whose parents were doing business with Seonghwa’s parents. The very reason you were fake dating your best friend in the first place.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bookshrimp,” she mocked you, sticking a sharp nail into your chest. You didn’t bother correcting her that the right term was bookworm. You were already in enough trouble as it was. For some reason, teasing Seonghwa had been easy because you meant well and you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. Not really. Because he knew how badly you’d been bullied in middle school. But now that you were met with so many threatening figures, you froze rightaway, unable to defend yourself.

“Just l-leave me alone,” you stammered.

“Aw, aren’t you a little pathetic shrimpie?” Eunhee cooed and started pulling your hair harshly and kicking you onto the ground. The other girls were holding you down so that you wouldn’t fight back. “Did you seriously believe you can steal Seonghwa from me? We’re meant to be together and if you stand in our way, I will fucking kill you!”

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” you exclaimed sorrowfully. You tried your best to shield yourself and push her away but her loyal minions were preventing you from doing so. Just as Eunhee was about to slap you across the face, you witnessed as her threatening hand was stopped mid-air by the interloper whose features you couldn’t quite discern in the dark. But whose voice you would recognize anywhere.

“You think you’re so brave?” Seonghwa yelled at Eunhee and her friends. “Ganging up on her like that? Six against one? You’re the pathetic ones.”

“Hwa, we were just trying to teach her a lesson. She should learn her place, after all,” Eunhee tried to explain.

“A lesson?” he scoffed. “You dumbasses can’t even pass Calculus and you want to teach the smartest girl in our school a lesson?” your heart melted with warmth at how highly he thought of you. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“You won’t tell my dad, right?” Eunhee was suddenly on the defensive. She’d probably be in big trouble if he found out how his precious daughter was behaving in school.

“Get out of my sight right now or I’ll tell the whole country,” Seonghwa threatened through gritted teeth. (Later on, he actually did tell her dad about the incident and Eunhee, along with her followers, were suspended from school for two weeks. Oh, and their rich parents cut off their money, which was pretty impressive an accomplishment). And so, the vicious girls scattered like roaches in daylight. Pulling you onto your feet, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and started walking towards his car which you somehow hadn’t noticed parked nearby. Getting inside, he started the engine immediately but his hands were clutching the steering wheel so hard you were feeling a bit scared. You had never seen your best friend so angry. Well, maybe the only other time that came close was when you were telling him about your past experiences with bullying...

“Are you mad at me?” you asked sheepishly.

“At you?” he chuckled harshly. “Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t know...”

“Why didn’t you fight them back?” Seonghwa inquired.

“I tried, but I was reminded of middle school and just...froze. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m not blaming you,” he replied calmly. “I was just wondering. Cause I know you’ve been going to self-defense classes. And I thought you were making progress. I mean, the last time I came to watch, you were pretty good.”

That was before the summer. Of course it was. Still, you were touched by the fact that he remembered. Despite acting like he didn’t care, you instinctively knew he did.

“I mean, I was,” you said. “But I panicked.”

Seonghwa let go of the wheel with one hand and placed it on your bare knee, rubbing calming circles around it. You two were alone so you were certain this was no longer the fake dating thing. This was just your best friend being there for you when you needed him the most.

“If anyone tries that shit again, just tell them you’re my girlfriend, alright? They have to be idiots to mess with you,” he spoke angrily.

“Fake girlfriend,” you reminded him sadly.

“That’s none of their business,” he replied, but didn’t correct you. Oh, how badly you wished to be his real girlfriend. To show him how much you cared for him.

“Why did you change so much over the summer?” you suddenly asked, while Seonghwa was driving you home.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seonghwa responded harshly. “You don’t like my green hoodie and you also don’t like my leather jacket? There’s really no satisfying you, is there?”

“I didn’t mean your clothes,” you mumbled. “Just...your overall attitude towards me. Before the summer you used to let me squeeze your cheeks and sit in your lap and now you seem so...unapproachable. I’m just saying, we were closer when I was your best friend than we are now that I’m your fake girlfriend.”

Seonghwa stopped the car abruptly, making you blink in shock.

“I changed because I was sick of you treating me like a little boy and I wanted you to start seeing me as a man,” he admitted but without looking into your eyes.

“W-what are you saying?” you swallowed nervously.

“Nevermind.”

“No, you have to talk to me, Hwa!” you insisted desperately. “If you still consider me your best friend, be honest with me. Please.”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at you as he finally met your gaze. “This is exactly why I changed so much, Y/N. I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

His cruel words hurt you more than anything you’d ever experienced in your life. More than all the bullying, the slapping and getting pushed against a wall. Losing your best friend was your worst fear. But you had promised yourself to never be weak again. So the second he said that, you pulled the handle of the side door, attempting to get out of his car. Before you could do that, Seonghwa grabbed your hand, effectively keeping you in place.

“I want to be your boyfriend. For real this time,” he elaborated.

You stared at him in utter confusion.

“But...when I confessed, you acted like you didn’t care. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Forget how I acted. I only offered the fake dating shit because I wanted to get closer to you again. Make up for the lost time during the summer. Do you honestly think I give a fuck about what Eunhee thinks or says about me? I just used that as an excuse. I’ve told her I’m not into her hundreds of times. And yes, maybe I have changed. Not because I don’t care about you. But because I do. You used to gush about Count Dracula and Darth Vader so much that I thought if I became the bad guy, you’d finally notice me. I wanted so terribly to impress you and make you stop seeing me as your adorable best friend that I got too lost in the feeling of holding power over you...Too lost to notice you liked me all along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you whispered teary-eyed. “I do,” correcting yourself. “H-hwa, I’m so sorry to break it to you but-”

“If you reject me, I won’t be responsible for attempted murder,” Seonghwa interrupted you jokingly.

“I’m so sorry to break it to you,” you repeated with a sly smirk. “But no matter how hard you try to change, I will always see you as my adorable best friend. And though I have to admit I did stop teasing you temporarily, that was only because you suddenly started behaving like the dangerously sexy king of the high school. Can you blame me for feeling a little intimidated? I know I’ve said this before but I didn’t think me teasingly calling you Kermit would go this far. I never meant to hurt you, Hwa.”

“I know you didn’t, princess,” Seonghwa whispered, gently stroking your cheeks.

“And yes,” you smiled shyly, leaning into his touch.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to be your real girlfriend. It would be a dream come true.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, as if the very idea seemed amusing to him. “How badly do you want it?”

“So badly, I would do anything for you, sir,” you uttered the last word without thinking much, your brain somehow recalling a time when you two had discussed how you’d enjoy being called by a potential significant other. In retrospect, that wasn’t really a thing best friends generally talked about.

“Sir?” Seonghwa grinned, leaning his head against your forehead. “Keep that up and your real girlfriend status will be confirmed.”

“I want to kiss you so much,” you were on the verge of begging. Oh, screw it. “Please, please, let me kiss you.”

He didn’t respond, just connected your lips with his own softly, taking his time with you. It was pure magic. You had thought about kissing your best friend thousands of times. But nothing compared to the reality. Parting your lips further to let his tongue in, you physically couldn’t prevent yourself from moaning into his mouth, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How insanely intoxicating he tasted. How you were burning alive and it would be the sweetest death imaginable.

“Not if I kiss you first,” Seonghwa said once he broke the kiss apart. “Oh, wait, I just did.”

What the hell...had just happened? Sneaking a peak at the time, you were suddenly panicking by how late it was.

“Holy shit, my parents are going to kill me!” you exclaimed. “Can you please drive me home?”

“Sure thing, princess,” he laughed, increasingly amused by your flustered self. “That’s exactly what I was intending to do anyways. I’m not in the habit of keeping little girls past their bed time.”

“Shut up, I’m not a little girl!” you complained. “I’m just a few months younger than you. Asshole.”

“Hey! Is that any way to speak to your devoted boyfriend?” Seonghwa scolded you teasingly.

Oh, God. You loved the sound of that. Your best friend was now your boyfriend. It still felt unreal.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewled apologetically, already knowing how to make him weak for you with just one tiny word. “And thank you for taking me home.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa smiled. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

You could get used to it. Reaching forward to open the door for you, he whispered in your ear:

“I’m taking you out on our first date. Doll yourself up for me, will you?”

You nodded, your heart beating too fast to actually manage a verbal response. After you got inside and suffered a brief interrogation from your parents (using the library+extra assignments excuse), you hurried up the stairs, took a quick shower and then went to bed. No sooner had you closed your eyes than your phone buzzed with notifications.

Kermit the Frog: You still up?

Kermit the Frog: For fear of sounding lame, I moss you already

Kermit the Frog: *Miss...damn autocorrect

You chuckled upon seeing his messages. Whatever demon possessed you to still keep that nickname in your chat, you knew you had to change it immediately. If he saw it on your first date tomorrow, you would never hear the end of it.

You: I’m awake, yes

You: And I moss you too 😉

You purposefully misspelled the word to tease him. After all, it was only in order.

Boyfie 🐸: That obnoxious Kermit nickname better be gone by tomorrow

He texted as if he’d read your mind and you gasped in surprise.

Boyfie 🐸: Or we’re having our first couple fight!!

You: How did you know?!?

Boyfie 🐸: Not my fault you keep your phone unlocked sometimes

Boyfie 🐸: I’m not kidding, change it right now 😡

You: Changed it already

You texted him back quickly, sending him a screenshot.

You: Can I at least keep the frog emoji? 🥺

Boyfie 🐸: NO!!! REMOVE IT OR WE BREAK UP 😡😡😡

You: Damnit, Hwa, your angery Aries is showing...okay, fineee

You sent another screenshot of the now changed emoji.

You: Happy now?

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Much better, princess 🤗🤗🤗

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Now go to sleep, we have early classes tomorrow

You: Wow, so bossy. Okay, sir, I’m going

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Good night, my baby 😘

You: Staaahp, ohmygosh. And good night, Hwa 🥺

The next morning you ran outside faster than The Flash as soon as you heard the oh-so-familiar honks. When you saw Seonghwa waiting there to pick you up, your heart did a backflip as you excitedly took the passenger seat.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” you greeted him and kissed his cheek. “This still feels so strange.”

“Well, you better get used to it, doll. Wow, you really cleaned up nicely today,” he complimented your pastel pink dress. “Not that you usually don’t! You’re always gorgeous, I just meant that you’re especially gorgeous and...nope, that also sounds wrong. Okay, I shut up now.”

“Relax,” you giggled. “It’s fine. I appreciate the effort. You don’t look so bad yourself. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re practically sex on legs 24/7. I think it’s time for me to shut up now.”

“You’re so cute when you get flustered. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Just you,” you admitted.

Once you walked into the school, it was like everyone noticed the subtle change in your dynamic. Because Seonghwa did something he never did before. He carried your bag and gave you his leather jacket! And Hwa’s friends were immediately onto you like bees to honey.

“I mean, I knew you guys were dating,” Seonghwa’s friend Yunho observed. “But I never saw the chemistry before, to be honest. Until now. I mean, come on, Y/N was like a loyal puppy, always following Hwa around.”

“Hey, don’t give him any ideas!” you joked.

“Too late. Already ordered the collar,” Seonghwa winked.

“Kinky. Can’t tell if I’m into it or want to cut off my ears,” Yunho grinned. “Probably both.”

“Nice chat, but we gotta head to class, Yu,” Seonghwa said because his friend was in a different class.

“See you for lunch?” Yunho suggested.

“Can’t. Already made plans with this little girl,” Hwa tilted his head towards you.

“Whoo, enjoy, then!”

“It’s not what it sounds like!” you groaned, feeling uncharacteristically embarassed.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa smirked mysteriously and pulled you towards the room you had class in.

“Nothing involving collars and puppies, I assure you!” you yelled (perhaps a little too loudly), twisting your head, not wanting to give Yunho and the rest of Seonghwa’s friends the wrong idea.

When your classes for the day were over, Seonghwa led you towards his car once again. You were a bit nervous to make a good impression on your first date. Even though it was silly. Your best friend of four years had surely made a first impression a long time ago.

“Where are we going?” you asked to break the awkward silence.

“It’s a surprise, princess. Can you be patient for me?”

“I can,” you promised dutifully and placed your tiny hand on top of his. “Anything for you, sir.”

Seonghwa lost focus on the road for the briefest of moments in order to give you a warning look. One look and that was all you needed to keep you quiet and obedient. Eventually, you realized where he was taking you. Though you hadn’t been to his place for a couple of months now, you couldn’t forget how the drive to Seonghwa’s home looked.

“I dressed myself up and we’re just going to your place?” you hmphed in playful annoyance. “So much for our glamorous first date.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of my cooking skills. Shit, I sorta ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Aww, you were planning to cook for me on our first date? Hwaaa, I’ve only had you as a boyfriend for less than 24 hours and you’re already pulling out the big guns! I don’t mean to push my luck but if you’re cooking now, I’m trembling to witness our one month anniversary.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“You’re very ambitious to think you can put up with me for an entire month.”

”Hwa, sweetie, I’ve put up with you for four years.”

“Not as your boyfriend, you haven’t.”

“We’ll talk again in 30 days,” you vowed enigmatically.

“Here we are,” Seonghwa announced once he parked in front of his home. “My parents are currently at work so you don’t need to worry about...well, anything, really.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” for some reason his words made you even more worried.

“Nothing, I just meant you can...like, be yourself. There’s no one to impress.”

“There’s you,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget your parents already know me. And besides, you’re the only person I care about impressing.” 

“Not to stroke your ego, but you’ve already impressed me. After all, you’re the only one who’s had the audacity to compare me to a freaking muppet and survived.”

“Point taken,” you chuckled.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Seonghwa suggested and the two of you entered his house. No matter how much you begged him to let you help with the cooking, he was insistent that he would do all the work. Said something about making up to you for the times you had to carry his bag or buy snacks to him and his friends. When you argued that you also had some making up to do for all the times you teased him a little too insensitively, he said that you agreeing to be his real girlfriend was enough to satisfy his wounded heart. Seeing that there was no point in arguing, you gave up and occupied yourself by mindlessly scrolling through social media. About an hour later, Seonghwa finally deemed his culinary masterpieces ready to be eaten. He allowed you to at least help set the table which you considered a small victory. The second you tried the first meal, you were so overwhelmed by the exquisite tastes that you spoke without thinking much.

“God, I wanna marry you.”

Seonghwa simply chuckled, amused by your unexpected reaction.

“Did I say that out loud?” you whispered, completely mortified, covering your mouth in embarassment.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit, I’m such a mess,” you mumbled.

“No, it’s fine. I take it as a compliment. Now, eat up before it gets cold. If my wicked plan works, you’ll have bought me a wedding ring by the time dessert arrives.”

“Truly wicked. I’m in danger,” you laughed and kept enjoying the various meals Seonghwa had prepared. 

Once the plates were empty, you felt so full and warm you couldn’t possibly move. And no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Seonghwa had to physically carry you to the couch so that you two would re-watch Star Wars: Return of the Jedi together, warmly cuddled up under a blanket.

Suddenly, you were possessed by the urge to speak your mind and be as honest with him as possible. After hiding your true feelings for four years, now that you were finally given the chance to be yourself, you were feeling uncharacteristically brave.

“You know, even though I was messing around earlier, I had indeed daydreamed about marrying you back in our first year of high school. You were the first boy who ever treated me like I wasn’t the walking joke of the universe. The first who ever hung out with me not as a prank but because you actually saw me as a friend. When I started teasing you about your cute habits, I hope you know I never wished to hurt you. I just wanted to show you that I notice and appreciate every single detail about you. So, yeah, I really like you, Hwa. Have liked you for a long time.”

Seonghwa had paused the movie the second you started talking. And now that you were done sharing your thoughts, he seemed unable to say anything. The silence was a bit awkward so you interrupted it once again.

“I’m sorry, that was silly. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable so early in our re-”

This time, he interrupted you with a kiss, pulling you into his lap, just like the good old days. You smiled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him.

“It wasn’t silly. I appreciate you saying all that,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And for the record, I know you meant well with all the teasing. In a sense, a part of me even suspected that you liked me back. But I was also feeling a bit insecure. I kept thinking that you could do so much better than go out with dorky Kermit guy who has an obsession with tidying up, you know? That you deserved someone else. But I couldn’t allow anyone else to be that someone. So, I changed myself.”

“Maybe you did change a little. But in my heart, you’re always going to be my Frog Prince Hwa.”

“I hate you so much,” he rolled his eyes.

“Naw, you don’t.”

“Fine. I hate that you’re right.”

Things between you and Seonghwa were going great. It had been three months since you two started dating for real. He was super attentive and caring towards you. However, you were a bit bummed out since not much changed compared to his behaviour as your best friend and as your boyfriend. Sure, you did start kissing each other and occasionally making out (which wasn’t exactly a best friend activity). But there was one thing that still had not happened. And the more time passed, the more anxious you felt to bring it up.

One evening, you had miraculously convinced your parents to let you have a sleepover at Seonghwa’s place. After insisting that nothing out of the ordinary was going on between you two and even if something unusual did happen (which you highly doubted but secretly hoped for), you were going to use protection (and no, you were certainly not referring to Seonghwa’s collection of action figures who carried weapons).

As you and your boyfriend were enjoying your snacks while watching TV from the comfort of his bed, you couldn’t help but finally raise the question that had been tormenting your mind for a while now.

“S-seonghwa...do you not find me attractive?”

“What the hell are you asking me that for? Would you be my girlfriend if I didn’t find you attractive?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone before so...I was just wondering if there’s a particular reason why we still haven’t...taken things to the next level?”

“The next level?” he chuckled. “Relationships aren’t video games. And to answer your question, the reason’s actually the exact opposite of your concerns. We haven’t done anything more than making out because I find you ridiculously attractive. And it’s taking every last inch of my self-restraint to not pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with. I just wanted to wait until you’re ready.”

“Ready? So you knew that I haven’t...with anyone...yet?” you purposefully left out some words because you were feeling incredibly shy discussing this with Seonghwa.

“Of course I knew, princess. You’re my best friend. And my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least. That you’re not repulsed by my...inexperience.”

“Why would I be when we’re in the same boat?”

“We are?” you whispered in shock.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since forever. Did you honestly think I would just screw anyone else?”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have options,” you pointed out, referring to all the potential love interests swarming around him like bees. “Unlike me.”

“Are you regretful, little girl?” he inquired, running a lazy finger across your cheek. “Jealous?”

“No, I just...want to be the best for you, sir,” you confessed nervously.

“You’re already the best I could hope for,” Seonghwa responded and kissed you hungrily, burying his hands into your hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you curiously needed to know. “That you haven’t either...”

“It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation?��� he pointed out. “What was I supposed to say? Hi, bestie, let’s have lunch together. Oh and by the way, I’m a hopeless virgin pining over you?”

“You’re right,” you laughed. “It would have made things awkward.”

“Now, unless you have any other pressing issues, I suggest we go back to kissing.”

And without giving you the time to argue, Seonghwa devoured your lips rightaway, gently pushing you down so that your back hit the sheets. Then, he started slowly taking off your jeans. Anxiously trembling under his vigorous touch, you placed a hand against his chest. He immediately noticed and put a temporary halt to his ministrations.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he comforted you with all the seriousness in his voice.

“No, I want to, I swear,” you nodded eagerly.

“Princess, you’re literally shaking,” Seonghwa remarked.

“What’s wrong with me?” you sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. Tell me to stop if you feel even the slightest hint of hesitation or discomfort and I will, I promise.”

“I know you would, Hwa. I trust you. But even if I’m a bit nervous, I want to do this with you. Please?”

“Well, I can’t deny you since you’re asking so nicely,” he grinned and continued where he left off. “Can I get rid of these?” Seonghwa inquired, carefully pushing your panties to the side.

“Yes, you can do anything to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t have said that,” he chuckled darkly and tore your underwear savagely. You couldn’t even gather the energy to complain about the ruination of your new pair, you were far too turned on by Seonghwa’s aggressive nature to care. He didn’t waste any more time, grabbing your thighs to hold them in place, he began licking your pussy with his tongue and stimulating it with his long fingers. It didn’t take long for you to start squirming beneath his touch, helplessly moaning his name. He didn’t cease his merciless movements until you reached your orgasm. When your breathing finally eased, you gathered the energy to speak again:

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before? How were you so...so...”

“So good?” Seonghwa smirked confidently and bit his lower lip. “I mean...I’ve seen videos. Read some things here and there.”

“Honestly? I think you’re a god.”

“You’ll have to stop complimenting me so much or I’ll develop a god complex,” he joked. “What do you want to do next, baby?”

“I want to suck you off,” you mumbled.

“Who taught you such dirty language?”

“Hey! I read, too,” you pouted and assuredly made your way towards the carpet next to his bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seonghwa asked.

“Aren’t I supposed to kneel in order to pleasure you, sir?”

“Princesses never kneel,” he instructed and got up from the bed, urging you to lie down with your head hanging from the very edge of the bed and make yourself comfortable. “Open up that pretty little mouth for me, will you?”

You did as he asked obediently and even went the extra mile to stick your tongue out. Unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side, Seonghwa was quick to follow your wishes and let his cock spring free from his jeans. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his monstrous size. Seeing your worries if it will fit reflected in your eyes, he expressed his concern for you:

“Are you sure about this?”

“Please, please, I need you,” you whimpered without thinking, eager to have a taste. Without making you wait any longer, Seonghwa pushed the tip of his cock inside, gently letting your cheeks get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly, he went deeper, allowing you to acquaint yourself with the stretch. When you kept blinking at him in anticipation, he realized you were ready for more and began moving faster, fucking into your mouth at a steady pace. As he neared his high, his motions became less controlled you were sucking more intently, impatient to swallow every last drop of him.

“Shit, I’m going to-” he attempted to break away, but you managed to wrap your hands at the back of his legs in order to keep his cock inside your mouth. 

Seconds later, he released his cum and you began drinking it thirstily. When you had made certain that no drop was wasted, you finally let go of his legs, allowing your boyfriend’s dick to dangle freely outside of your mouth.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Seonghwa praised you and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “My incredible girl.”

“I’m only yours, sir,” you mumbled, way too affected by him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he mocked you teasingly.

“Yes, sir, I want to belong to you,” you whimpered and turned around to pull him back into bed.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Seonghwa smiled fondly and took a mysterious package out of the back pocket of his jeans. Soon enough, you realized what it was, as he started lining up the condom on his cock.

“Oooh, I brought one of those, as well!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“You came here on a mission, didn’t you? Wicked little thing,” he tsked in fake disapproval.

“It’s not my fault you’re walking around like an Adonis,” you defended yourself boldly.

“You’re one to speak. Freaking goddess,” Seonghwa complimented you and slowly began unbuttoning your shirt you had somehow forgotten you were still wearing. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, always making sure you were feeling safe.

“More than okay,” you consented. Left in nothing but your baby pink bra, you unintentionally shivered at the sudden cold air surrounding you. Soon after that, Seonghwa undid the clasps and you were now only wearing your birthday suit. Feeling a bit timid, you self-consciously covered your breasts and broke eye contact with your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he pressed the palm of his hand against your cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

You weakly shook your head and somehow managed to gather the strength to look into his beautifully dark eyes once again.

“Then, let me see you, yeah?” Seonghwa nudged your hands away gently. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

You blushed at his sudden praise and allowed him to have a look. But seconds later, you were getting a bit impatient.

“Please, Hwa, I want you so much.”

“Anything for my princess,” he chuckled and coaxed his tip at your entrance slowly. When you gave him a sign he could go deeper, his movements became bolder. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

“M-more, sir, I swear I can do this,” you begged as you were beginning to unravel beneath him. As he fucked you faster into oblivion, you were no longer thinking straight and his name was the only word you were capable of uttering. Over and over again. Until you both came, blissfully lost in each other’s arms.

“Here, let me clean you up,” Seonghwa offered sweetly, picking you up with little effort and carrying you to the bathtub. 

When he started shampooing your hair, rubbing body lotion into your sensitive skin and covering your neck with soft kisses, you couldn’t stop your tears from falling, touched by his infinite tenderness and by the sheer intimacy of the gesture.

“Darling, are you crying?” he questioned you upon hearing your hiccups.

“N-no,” you lied but it was useless, because it was quite obvious you were, in fact, bawling your eyes out.

“Did I hurt you, my sweet princess?” Seonghwa asked in concern.

“How...how could you think that?” you whimpered. “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me. It’s just that...this is the first time I’ve felt so...special, so worthy, so...”

“Loved?” he offered the word you had been seeking for but had been too scared to utter out loud.

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed shyly. “Is it too early to say this? I’m sorry if it is but...I love you, Seonghwa.”

He simply stared at you in disbelief for a couple of seconds. This time, you were once again the one to break the deafening silence.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just...I wanted you to know. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but-”

“I love you too, baby. Of course I do,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And I’m not just saying it, I don’t feel obliged to say it. As my best friend, you know me better than anyone else. And you know I don’t do things unless I want to. So, believe me when I say this.”

“Fuck,” you uttered and only started crying harder in his arms.

“Shhh, you’re safe with me, sweetheart. I would never harm you,” he comforted you and stroked your hair lovingly, putting all your worries and self-doubts at the very back of your head.

After you were all dried up from the bath and had put on your boyfriend’s shirt while he was still in the shower, you were feeling uncharacteristically confident. Confident enough to look for something you hadn’t seen for a while. You had been wondering if he had it hanging around somewhere in his wardrobe. And after a short period of rummaging you found your treasure. The green hoodie. The Kermit hoodie. You smiled mischievously as you changed into it. It still smelled like him, you beamed. Back when he was simply your best friend, the amount of times you had fantasized about him lending it to you should have been illegal. So now that you had been promoted to his girlfriend, you simply couldn’t let such an opportunity pass you by.

Once Seonghwa got out of the shower, water droplets running down the divine skin on his bare chest, you were too busy staring at him in all his beauty and glory to notice the angry look on his face.

“How did you even find this? It was hidden so well in my wardrobe,” he scowled.

“Don’t be mad,” you pouted adorably. “I look so cute in it, right?”

“Cuter than me, that’s for sure,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and tickled your belly.

“That’s impossible, you make the cutest Kermit,” you giggled, enjoying how easy it was to get on his nerves.

“You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” he groaned.

“Never ever, my stunning Frog Prince,” you vowed and kissed him quickly, taking him by surprise. His eyes widened in shock and he seemed too flustered to continue scolding you.

“You’re in luck today. Nothing can ruin my good mood,” Seonghwa was determined.

“Great,” you grinned gleefully. “Cause from now on, I intend on making all your days filled with joy.”

“From now on?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Oh, princess, my days have been filled with nothing but joy ever since I met you.”

And indeed, both Seonghwa’s days and yours were nothing but pure happiness ever since you decided to make your relationship real. And despite his foolish statement that he no longer wanted to be your best friend, you had somehow managed to convince him that he was both your boyfriend and bestie and that was perfectly okay. As if in the blink of an eye, spring came which meant that the whole school was in nervous excitement about the upcoming prom. Generally, you weren’t the type to get overwhelmed about such a trivial topic. But now that you were dating Seonghwa, the most popular guy in the school, you couldn’t help but worry a little. What if he wanted to go with someone else? Someone equal in “status”? Your worries and insecurities further intensified when he started asking questions in a weird way.

“I need your help,” Seonghwa blurted out over lunch.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend. And he really likes this girl and wants to ask her to prom. What do you think would make her happy?”

You blinked in surprise. You knew that when people pulled the “I’m just asking for a friend” card, they were most likely talking about themselves. Was he seriously thinking of inviting another girl to prom? You tensed a little but tried really hard to remain neutral in your answer and actually make an attempt to help your bestie.

“I mean, all girls are different,” you reasoned. “If you describe her to me, maybe I’ll be able to give a more appropriate suggestion.”

“She’s a bit like you. You know, kinda bookish and-”

“It’s alright, Seonghwa, you can say it. I’m a nerd.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“It’s not exactly a slur,” you chuckled coldly.

“I know, but that’s what your bullies in middle school called you. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive,” Hwa put his hand on top of yours in a gentle, comforting manner.

“It’s fine when if you say it,” you smiled. “I won’t get offended.”

“I was going to say my friend’s crush is intelligent like you but, oh well.”

“That does sound better, I admit,” you giggled.

“She’s also a bit shy and introverted so maybe she wouldn’t enjoy a public promposal. Crowds tend to make her nervous,” Seonghwa observed.

“Seems like you didn’t need my help after all,” you scoffed playfully.

“No, I do! I still haven’t come up with an actual way to propose. I mean, for my friend.”

“Right. Your friend. Well, he can’t go wrong with some poetry under her balcony. If she has one, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure she does.” Seonghwa smirked. “Alright, thanks.”

He jumped from his seat, not even having finished his lunch.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I gotta prepare my friend’s promposal,” he shrugged and disappeared from your sight, leaving you a bit crest-fallen. If he was intending on asking you, he wouldn’t have turned to you for help, right? That would sorta ruin the element of surprise, wouldn’t it? And yet, you knew that Seonghwa wasn’t the type to care about people’s opinions and randomly ask a more popular girl out because of public demand. And he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to just date you for kicks and then ditch you at prom. Despite those very logical reasons, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

A week later, you realized all your worries had been for nothing. It was a Sunday morning and you had just finished having breakfast with your family. You were leisurely reading on your bed when you heard some suspicious noises coming from your window. You looked up from your book and you could swear you saw tiny rocks hitting the glass! You jumped up angrily, half-expecting to find a bunch of neighbour kids pulling a prank. But you were surprised when you spotted your boyfriend standing under your balcony. Wearing his iconic green hoodie.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, though a hopeful part of you already knew the answer.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he recited diligently in a song-like manner.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic acting but it was the effort that touched you immensely.

“And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” he continued sweetly.

You were so in love with this man it was insane.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return,” Seonghwa kept going.

You couldn’t resist the urge to leap off the balcony. It was just the second floor so what could possibly go wrong? Other than a scraped knee and a bit of a limp. God, you were such an idiot.

“Shit, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked in terror and wrapped his arms around you.

“The excruciating pain is worth it if I get to hug you like this,” you grinned, leaning against him for support.

“Why couldn’t you just walk down the stairs like a normal person?”

“And what’s romantic about that?” you joked. “Jumping off a balcony makes for a much better story.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Only for you, my sweet Frogmeo!” you teased and kissed his cheek.

“Wait, I wasn’t finished!” Seonghwa exclaimed excitedly, not bothering to act offended about your obsession with him and that Kermit hoodie. “There was something about cheeks, I swear.”

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!” you helped him out dutifully.

“O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” he finished proudly and placed his palm against your cheek.

“Only you could possibly mix Romeo and Juliet with The Frog Prince and somehow make it work,” you praised him.

“Does that mean you’ll go to prom with me?” Seonghwa tilted his head to the side adorably.

“Of course I will, baby,” you responded happily.

“Thank God, ‘cause learning that monologue drained my soul and brain,” he whistled playfully.

“You know, you had me worried there for a second,” you confessed reluctantly, because you didn’t want to keep any secrets from your doting boyfriend.

“When?” Seonghwa asked in confusion.

“Lunchtime. A week ago. When you asked me for advice. I thought that...”

“That I would ask someone else?” he correctly guessed your suspicions. And you nodded. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

“No, you’re perfect. In fact, too perfect. It makes me feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Seonghwa smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head. But he wasn’t angry with you. Just wanted to erase those silly thoughts from your mind.

“You deserve so much more, princess. But I’ll try my best to give you all I can.”

“As will I,” you promised and mischievously pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie, making his face squished adorably.

“If this is the best you’re capable of, I dread to see your worst,” he shook his head in amusement.

“Prince Frogmeo and the Nerdy Princess,” you sighed wistfully. “That would make a hell of a fairy tale, wouldn’t it?”

“How about Kermit the Frog whoops the Princess’s ass for being a brat?” Seonghwa threatened jokingly.

“You know what? I wouldn’t say no to that,” you giggled and started running away from him. “If you catch me first!”

Prom night arrived and despite all the preparations and excitements around it, it was nothing special in itself. What made it special, however, were the moments you spent with Seonghwa. Just dancing and talking seemed to be enough to make your heart leap with joy. And the smile never left your face the entire night.

“School’s really ending, huh?” you spoke aloud without thinking, while you were swaying slightly to the music in your boyfriend’s arms.

“This isn’t the end of us. We’ll go to college, we’ll grow up. The best is yet to come, darling.”

“You know what I meant,” you replied, a hint of sadness tinging your tone. “In college, I’ll study Literature, you’ll study Music. We’ll no longer be able to sit next to each other in class or exchange notes or hold hands under the desk.”

“We’ll do all sorts of other things,” Seonghwa responded cheerfully, trying to think positive. “We’ll have study dates in college, we’ll visit new restaurants and make more memories together. Just because high school is over, doesn’t mean we are. I’m not giving up on my best friend ever.”

“Your girlfriend,” you corrected him playfully.

“My best friend,” he repeated. “You were right. Being in love with each other doesn’t nullify our friendship. Both are equally important to me. You are the most important to me.”

“God, Hwa, how can you say such things so easily?”

“Is your heart fluttering?” your boyfriend and best friend teased you, swirling you around while dancing. You were met with his beautiful dark gaze again as he murmured: “Hi, princess.”

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you chuckled in response.

And you were finally home.

The End

[artsybookworms]

A pointless thread in which I rate the seven demigods:

Preface: These are my PERSONAL opinions! My ratings will be based on how I feel about them at the moment, not an analysis of how well they’re written (although it might play a role in some of them).

I’m not even rating him—a 10/10 would be an understatement for how I feel about Percy. I grew up with him, and he honestly feels like an old friend. It’s because of him I found friends in this fandom and felt a little less lonely when I was younger. I owe him a lot, even if he is fictional.

10/10: Man I love her. Does she have a lot of flaws? Yeah. But that doesn’t make her any less of a good character. If anything, she feels more real because of it. Also, I’m very biased because I related a lot to her as a kid.

3/10: Pleaseeee don’t hate me. Jason just never resonated with me, and he was kinda boring. I hated reading anything from his POV lmao. I feel like Rick tried to make him this stoic, rule follower with a heart of gold and accidentally made a wet sack of rocks who’s conveniently oblivious to when people need him as a friend (see: Reyna and (to a lesser extent) Percy). Idk he just rubbed me the wrong way.

5/10: I liked Piper when I was first introduced to her. She honestly felt like the main character of TLH; she definitely outshone Jason. I think she’s really cool, but I couldn’t really relate to her. We don’t have a lot in common, and that’s really the only reason I was never that interested in her character.

6/10: Remember when I said these are my personal opinions? I like Frank mainly because he’s Chinese and I’m Chinese and I’m that desperate for Chinese representation (I was especially desperate as a middle schooler in the Midwest). Is the representation necessarily good? No… some might even say it’s problematic. But he’s really sweet (if a little bland), and he has his moments. Not my favorite character and he could be improved a lot, but again, I’m biased.

6/10: I love Hazel! I think her backstory is really interesting and I just really liked reading about her. I also relate to her because we both like to make art lol. I wish Rick had made her 15 since that’s how he wrote her, but other than that I think she’s a really charming character and one of my favorite of the seven.

4/10: Um… once again… please don’t kill me. I was never a Leo fan. It really just comes down to bad writing on Rick’s hand. He felt like your regular old “joker on the outside broken on the inside” stock character. I’d seen it before and he just ended up kinda flat? He’s an overused trope, and while it can still be compelling done right, Rick didn’t do anything interesting with it. Also, I really hate arrogance, even if it’s fake. It’s one of my pet peeves.

Honestly, I think the reason I rated the HOO characters so low is because they’re extremely underdeveloped. I mean, we spent FIVE YEARS with Percy and Annabeth, getting to know who they are as people and growing to love them. It’s kind of hard to suddenly build the same kind of relationship with 5 other people, especially when their “screen time” is divided leaving us even less time to get to know them. I love the fanon version of their characters, but going off canon alone, they fell flat. Hopefully this didn’t offend anyone, I’m curious to know if you agree!!

[fonulyn]

So I'm reading this sad Chreon story - as one does (it's me, I'm one) - and I just had the weirdest epiphany? Like, I dunno, it's probably dumb and far from a hot take or some eye opening character analysis no one has done before but I noticed that people (including myself, so like not saying this in any kind of bad way) tend to write Leon as stand offish, apathetic, and cold. Like this story stated it specifically, said something along the lines of "this is what Leon gets for cultivating a reputation for being unapproachable, apathetic, and indifferent" and the insinuation there is that he's done this on purpose, put on this front to seem unaffected by things when in the presence of others, and I think it's pretty true for his character. Like anything post RE2, Leon is kind of. I dunno, I wanna say deadpan? He seems to express v little emotion, and when he does it's usually in the form of a quip, one-liner, or snarky come back. Sometimes awkward small talk lol. But it feels like he's built this wall, this persona around himself, not just to protect himself from losing more people (bc he probably sees it as some kind of inevitability, and with his track record I certainly wouldn't blame him), but to protect people from him. This poor man has spent so long fighting, trying to save people, and even tho he saves the day in the end, so many people get lost in the process, and Leon feels every single loss personally. Right off the bat we see it every time someone dies in RE2, then again in RE4 with Luis, who he knew for a short period of time and yet mourned so heavily for, and even Krauser to an extent. Leon is someone who is quick to trust, even as he gets older, and we see that in RE Vendetta, too. Like that's probably one of the big reasons he's so devastated after losing his team. Not only was he entrusted with a group (which doesn't happen often, as far as we have seen), but he probably put his trust in them as well, including Petrucio, the man who betrayed them. I just think Leon is such a complex character who hides so much of himself (which is convenient for bad writers at Capcom who can't write good dialogue to save their lives lmao, but I also think it's a decent part of his character now), probably so what happened in RE2 doesn't happen again. Bc that shit was probably so traumatizing, and Leon was still a baby! I'm only a year older then he was at the time of RE2 but like, as humans our brains don't finish growing until age 25, so that kind of trauma at that age is for sure gonna stick with you, and it seems he picked up some unhealthy coping mechanisms from it that's more than just his drinking problem. Anyways I guess I just wanted to rant about how Leon is the most "emotionless" character in RE but in reality he feels and cares so much, so much so that if he doesn't put up that mask of indifference then he'll destroy himself. This man would die so that others could live, he's saved the world multiple times without a care for himself past the need to finish his mission and keep as many people as possible safe. He's such a tragic character and I love him so goddamn much, like he's one of those characters who you aspire to be like, in a way. Selfless, capable, dependable, reliable, smart, passionate, caring. And some of this might be my own character building I've done based off of other headcanons and character analysis posts and stories I've seen, but I do think we see a lot of this in the canon content, too. I just really love Leon S Kennedy, okay? He makes me sad but also so so happy and I love him v much, he is a big time comfort character for me. Sorry for the rant, just needed to scream about this with someone who would understand lol 😅

oh anon, I get you, I dooo. I think that you're right in that Leon has kind of this shell around himself because it's the only way he can cope. but there are so many cracks in his shell, and he lets people in so readily even when it would stand to reason that he shouldn't trust anyone anymore. he gets attached to people lightning fast, and he'd die for them even when he's barely met them.

this borders on headcanon territory, definitely, but I tend to often write him as someone who gets attached easily and falls for people easily (be it friendship or romantic or anything), but then he doesn't know how to properly let people in because he's got his defense mechanisms, he's trying to keep himself from breaking, and what if he truly lets someone past those walls and then another disaster strikes and he never recovers from it?

and I think it shows a lot in how he's so awkward with small talk, he can throw in one-liners and dad jokes and try to keep his own (and anyone else's) spirits up with that. but oh man. beyond that? the boy doesn't know how to naturally talk to people. (even like in Infinite Darkness, with Claire, I think his "don't do anything stupid" was 100% meant to be a joke, both times, but it just didn't exactly land perfectly. poor awkward bby)

but like even though he might put up this unaffected front, he's still so very expressive? like... if you really pay attention to him? he's far from actually an expressionless and cold person. he just isn't very loud about it. (i was just going through ID screencaps yesterday and while Shen May is talking and Leon is on the background, he goes through such a journey in expressions alone :'D)

AND HE CARES. like, for example in Infinite Darkness, he sees Patrick is shaken and the first possible moment he has, he immediately asks him if he's okay and takes a moment to reassure him. they're in a hurry, he's supposed to get going and not check up on a guy he's never even met before, but he does it anyway. and I think it speaks a lot of his character. he's quick to offer support and comfort, and he genuinely tries to be there for others the best he can. he desperately needs someone to listen to him in turn, seriously. give him emotional support, damnit.

and I wanna highlight what you said:

in reality he feels and cares so much, so much so that if he doesn't put up that mask of indifference then he'll destroy himself. This man would die so that others could live, he's saved the world multiple times without a care for himself past the need to finish his mission and keep as many people as possible safe.

because yes. 100%. also this:

he's one of those characters who you aspire to be like, in a way.

like. yes. there was this one meme thing going around which was basically like asking if you feel like you're like your favorite character and I'm just. I fucking wish I was one tenth of what he is :'D

I know not even he is perfect, c'mon, no such thing as perfect people exist (not even in fiction, or if they do then they'd be really damn boring :'D). i'm not trying to claim he has no flaws, or that he never does anything wrong. he has and he does. but the amount of genuine caring he shows and how hard he tries to do the right thing? truly awe inspiring.

i just. I'm right there with you. I love him so damn much. and that's why I spend most of my time writing fic where he gets at least some of that happiness he deserves :'D i need him taken care of, damnit, and if canon doesn't give him good things then i damn sure will.

[hometownrockstar]

sorry if this looks like im over-valuing internet strangers' thoughts and opinions on my personal identity to the viewers but, does anyone think its "weird" the way i talk abt nonbinary characters/hcs, or gender/pronouns esp my own, or like dorothea lol. Like lemme explain. im a fully binary gay trans man (right now. ive never questioned or doubted it before but that doesnt mean im not gonna deny myself if my feelings ever change, and i dont question anything currently) but i sometimes wonder if people doubt my own word abt my identity just bc i use different pronouns including neos and no/it pronouns, or based on the way i talk abt nb characters i like and identify/relate to a lot.

cause i try to be sensitive abt the way i talk abt nonbinary identities and characters cause i obviously dont wanna overstep boundaries but i just think abt them a lot bc i like and relate to them (nb characters/hcs and ocs) a lot and ive just always questioned and got bored/annoyed by the inherent cisnormativity in everything ever (like thinking "why would these aliens have genders and be straight?" as a kid while watching sci-fi or whatnot) like just hating the inherent erasure of trans people made me constantly think abt nonbinariness in characters, and also i just knew and liked a lot of nb characters as a kid and they helped me on my own gender discovery. ...And me saying this is giving me that feeling i talked abt at the start, where i worry ppl are thinking "lol this guy is in denial and is def nb bc he said he relates to nb experiences" cause i honestly dont id as nonbinary! if that changes in the future thats great but how i id now is important too!

and then abt sexuality... ive thought abt it a lot, and have come to the conclusion i dont have much experience in romance or anything so whatever happens or changes in the future will be most important, but for the time being the only woman i have ever contemplated dating was a fictional woman from a video game, and i dont picture myself with a woman irl or feel much when i imagine it, therefore i am satisfied calling myself gay now. but THEN ppl try and go "oh well u could be bi-gay!" ...-___- can we talk abt how invasive that is too? like thats literally saying "oh you could want to date men and women, but only want to fuck men! (or vice-versa)" like maybe that info isnt any of your business?

[mermaidsirennikita]

Ok I haven't read TVWLM in a while but does Edwina having "genuine feelings" for Anthony change much?? I'm seeing people freaking out about the dreded love triangle and I remember the love triangle being a big part of the book? Idk it's just every anticlimactic to have Edwina go actually I didn't care about Anthony or becoming a viscountess go off Kate be happy with the guy who's been courting me for weeks. That feels like such a cop out to me if there are no hard feelings.

The love triangle was a big part of the book, lol. Kate and Anthony aren’t married until 70 to 75% of the way in. He has no plans to marry Kate until he has to; she has no plans to marry him until she has to, and even when she’s aware of her feelings she fully allows him to keep courting Edwina. On their wedding night, he calls her beautiful while he’s literally INSIDE HER and she’s like oh my god stop you’re imagining Edwina. Edwina doesn’t have feelings for Anthony and she finds another guy, yes. But she doesn’t find this guy until after Anthony marries Kate, and she seems to have every intention to consider his suit seriously due to her circumstances. She needs a rich man, he’s not only rich but good looking and not abusive. It’s a pretty prominent storyline.

As I’ve said before, I find it pretty emotionally inauthentic than Edwina is just like oh well whatever about Kate and Anthony marrying. Like. She’s 17. This handsome, wealthy, charismatic older man was flirting with her and attempting to woo her for weeks. I can buy that she didn’t have a big infatuation for him as the show’s version does, but I can’t buy that she wouldn’t be confused and a bit weirded out by it at first. My question for Kate would be, did you want him this whole time, and if so, why didn’t you tell me and why did you risk me marrying someone you’d be pining after during my marriage. Edwina not having any questions and being purely happy for Kate is a handwave, and she’s a flat character for it. Edwina on the show, it seems, is actually being given some depth and that actually sounds like an improvement. I see people critiquing the idea of this rich white guy being chased by these two brown women, and I hope that doesn’t happen. But I also think it would be problematic if Edwina just existed to be a flat obstacle who’s happy to step aside, especially as a woc. Kate being a woc and having a rich character arc doesn’t cancel out the problems that would occur if Edwina basically existed to be cast aside a la Marina in s1.

And also, it’s kind of boring for TV if a character that audience spends time with is just like…. So bland. Not into a guy but letting him court her, happily hugging her sister when she gets the life that up into a few days ago, was presumed to be hers in the near future. This doesn’t mean Edwina has to be in love with Anthony or long term resentful of Kate…. But I do think she has to have feelings about the whole thing in order for her to be a believable character.

The big reason why people don’t like this is that they think it would taint~ Anthony and Kate. As if the best fictional love stories aren’t messy ones, first off—but I get that it’s not to everyone’s taste. To me, if your measure of a tainted story is one in which people exhibit bad behavior, though…. They’re already there. Anthony was fully intending to marry this teenage girl and fuck around behind her back to his heart’s content, before realizing that he actually had a massive boner for her sister. That’s not pristine behavior!

I think people want s2 to be a merry sunshine story where Kate and Anthony find love in a hopeless place and never look at anyone else ever and everyone loves them and claps when they get together and they just overcome their various traumas by valiantly holding hands against the thunderstorms. And for most people, myself included, that would be very boring. It’s also just not what happened in the books. Anthony deadass fucked the shit out of her and then ran out the door because he was afraid of being in love with her. She sat there holding in her feelings for months because she was just going to be tragically in love with a man who didn’t love her. These are not logical people. They should be human, just as Edwina is human.

[divinefireangel]

Being in Quarantine with Justin H Min will include:

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: I'm back with my 2nd Justin HC 🥳. I know a few of you wanted me to write more so here you go! I hope you like it!!

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: A little bit sensual, but I've mentioned it as "NSFW" where it starts. Nothing explicit either way. 15+ and female readers TwT sorry (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). It's mostly the NSFW part tho.

Fuck this man got more hot okay

I didn't even think it was possible lol

Yeah so you both go to Toronto for his work because you don't wanna be separated from each other 🥺

Literally all you do is sleep and eat and read

You cook new things everyday

You have to make the best of the time you have anyway

It's mostly him cooking cuz god knows if this man can cook or not lmao

Daily routine may include but not necessarily limited to :

Waking up late

He wakes up early to workout

Sometimes you pretend to sleep just to see him workout ;)

Then you both shower together

And read while cuddling on the couch

When the sunlight shows up you both move to the sofa and continue reading

Running your hands through his hair which is now a lil longer than the buzz cut tg

Giving each other massages

Mainly you giving him massages

Napping together

Tracing his biceps

Cuz he has never had them and you just wanna appreciate the effort he put in to make them bigger

Making his protein shake much more consumable than what ever the hell he does

You try and bake stuff for the cast and crew to take once the quarantine is over

How well it turns out is all you and your baking skills sis

You try to make boba

Doesn't come out great cuz it's difficult to make

You try and distract him from his zoom table reads lol

And you fail 💀

Cuz he ignores you :(

But as soon as he closes his laptop he runs to you and kisses your face all over till you start to giggle cuz this man's is a simp for you

See. You are young people with needs

NSFW

He has more needs 😉

So he tries to get his freak on as many times as he can

Before going to bed

On the sofa

The couch

The kitchen table

The shower

The fucking floor (pun intended)

Whenever he gets bored from reading or wants to take a break,

Make out sessions

sO MANY of em

Even if all you want is a kiss, he's like no, no you don't

And BAM

Y'all make out till you can't breathe anymore

Biting his lip

Biting his ear

Chewing on his gold chain

Pulling his gold chain

Are a few highlights 🤤

And just imagine him running his hands up and down you

Like your waist and hips and butt and back and boobs and stuff uk

That freaky shit XD

He just can't get enough of you

Watching movies before falling asleep

Well trying to

Because he can't keep his hands to himself

Lingering touches that seem innocent but are not

I feel like his fave cuddle positions are when either you or him are laying in the other's lap

Or when your back is pressed to his chest

That's mainly when he gets handsy

Runs his fingertips through your hair and shoulders and down your hand till he reaches you palm

Pulls it back and kisses the back of it and intertwines his fingers with yours brb crying

Kisses and licks your neck when you are sitting like that

You can literally feel those fangs scarping your skin

It's just plain hot

NSFW over

Tries to put his face in the crook of your neck often

You whine cuz his non existent beard is prickly

But he does it anyway cuz it's cute and he knows it

Taking tons and tons and TONS of selfies

Sending them to his fam

Them being oh so adorable and loving your relationship

You kiss his jaw a lot

Cuz it's sharper now and that's also probably the height you can reach anyway (Calling all short ones out here ✌🏽)

Having deep talks too if you have time left after all of this lol

And everyday falling in love all over and over

If you've been dating for a while, he probably decides to propose as soon as he finds a ring worthy of you 🥺

Since he wakes up before you, he will definitely stare at you while you sleep

Baby boy might even tear up thinking that he can never love anyone as much as you 😭

And you feel the same way

Screen shot credit:- Me

Honestly all this is that goddamn insta story's fault.

Look at him 🥵

Update: He can't cook even if his life depended on it 😂😭 It's okay babe I can cook for you XD.

Gifs/any media belongs to rightful owners.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Ok, so I know that the Iblis demon was meant as a noodle incident, and that we’re never getting more on it, but still it’s just too interesting to leave it there. We know that all of the Merry Thieves know about it, because it’s become something casual to joke about to them, but can you just imagine any of the parents overhearing and freaking out? And them getting together and getting the story out of the boys (and Anna)!? And what the story actually is?

Anyway, sorry for the mini-rant. I just had to share my feelings with someone who might use them constructively if they are in a benevolent sort of mood and not overworked or overwhelmed.

Hellooo!! First of all, WE STAN THE CHRISTOPHER AND IBLIS DEMON DRAMA! I am so mad we will never get to read about it :(( I usually make reference to it a lot in my rp account (@my-name-is-kit ) and I also wrote a bit about it in a chapter 5 of ‘The Broken Hearts’.  because I think it’s so funny. Anyway, I was wondering if this was a fic request, and though I don’t know if you wanted me to write a full-fledged fic, I decided to write a quick little scene for you (also, don’t mind my modern language usage or any mistakes; I’m tired lol):

“We shouldn’t talk about this here; my mother could hear.” Christopher said.

“Cecily is too busy with Alex. Just tell us already.”

“What more is there to tell?”

“Christopher, an Iblis demon has sent you a love letter, you must be aware of how life-changing this moment is.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” Matthew said, annoyed. “This is your first opportunity to break a heart!”

Kit’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to break anyone’s heart!”

Cecily Lightwood was about to knock on the door to ask the boys if they would like a cup of tea  when she heard those words.

Cecily never wanted to pry in her children’s personal lives; she strongly believed they should be allowed to do as they wish (as long as nobody got hurt, of course). However, maybe it was the fact that Kit was having love problems that appalled her to such a magnitude that she could do nothing but be rooted to her spot just outside the door, that stood slightly ajar. 

Who was fancying her son and why was he so troubled at having to lead her astray? 

 “Cecy?” Gabriel whispered, frightening Cecily out of her wits. “What are you—?” 

Cecily put a finger to her lips, shushing him, before leading Gabriel away. 

“I think somebody is wishing to be courted by Kit.” Cecily said.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “He’s barely fourteen.”

“Exactly,” Cecily said dismayed. “That’s why I find it so concerning.”

“What should we do?”

Cecily narrowed her eyes.

“We can’t keep eavesdropping." Gabriel said. "That’s an invasion of his privacy.”

Cecily remained silent.

“Cecy?” 

“They left the door open.” She pointed out. “Only fools would have a private conversation and be so foolish as to ignore the fact that the door is open. And besides, this is for Kit’s own good.”  

“I don’t know, Cecily…”

“Gabriel, you know me. I wouldn’t do this unless I thought something was the matter. It’s not like Kit to worry about these things. Ha, he wouldn’t even realize a girl was fancying him! There’s something about this conversation that bothers me, and I’m not going to just ignore it.”

Gabriel looked at her for a second longer before sighing. “Fine, you win.”

…

“Could we stop talking about this?” Christopher said, uncomfortable with the fact that they were discussing this in his home, where somebody might overhear.

“Actually, this is sort of serious, Kit.” James said. “How many letters have you received already?”

“Three.”

“Three?!” The rest of the Merry Thieves repeated. 

“It’s alright, Kit. You just have to tell her—er, it—that you don’t feel the same way.” Thomas said.

“That’s so boring.” Matthew drawled, before facing Christopher. “You must tell it that it could never be, for you were born enemies.”

“Did you think I didn’t tell it that?” Christopher hissed. “It proceeded to write ‘you shall be the Juliet to my Romeo’.”

James furrowed his eyebrows. “Why are you Juliet?” 

“I don’t think it reads Shakespeare.” Christopher shrugged. 

 “Why do they keep calling her ‘it’?”  Cecily whispered to Gabriel.

Gabriel shrugged, “maybe it likes it that way?”

 “What are you going to do?” James asked.

“I don’t know!” Kit paused before continuing in a lower voice. “It said it was going to kidnap me, and I don’t want to be kidnapped. I like my life here. I don’t want to live in Hell.”

 Cecily exchanged a confused glance with Gabriel.

“What the hell?” Gabriel whispered.

 “Have you told it about Demon Pox?”

“No! I don’t want to talk to it anymore. I’m hoping it might forget.”

Matthew tsked. “Christopher, that Iblis demon isn’t going to forget about you anytime soon.”

“WHAT?!” Cecily said, bursting into the room.

Kit’s face turned phantom white. “Hi mam.” He whispered, trying to force a wobbly smile.

...

Though this is a fic-let, I’m still going to tag a couple of people who may enjoy it:

 @atla-lok143 @hitheresomeoneusingthus @youngreckless @stxr-thxif @autumnangel20 @fictionally-fantastic @no-scones-allowed @julemmaes @itsdaughterofthemoon @forjordelia @aceofjesper @cupcakesandkittens @livvyheronstairs

[makeste]

Do you have a Bakudeku (or not only if you have other things in mind) wishlist for the aftermath of the arc? and do you think their relationship will be completely resolved or Hori will stretch it out some more? (bc removing the tension completely (not halfway like DvK2) out of the most prominent relationship before the very end of the series is kind of a bold move, even though DekuvShigaraki could kinda (not literally) "replace" it)

ah but that’s the great thing about rival-type relationships, anon -- there is always going to be a certain amount of tension there on some level. not necessarily in a bad way, but just enough to keep things from ever getting boring. the key thing here is that “rival” isn’t just another word for “person I don’t get along with”; a true rival is supposed to be someone who challenges and pushes you. the thing I love so much about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship is that it has evolved from unhealthy rivalry -- jealous, insecure, and antagonistic -- into true, healthy rivalry, in which is supportive and encouraging. true rivalry is about neither of them allowing the other to rest on their laurels. it’s about both of them pushing themselves to get stronger because they don’t want to let the other down. it’s about that blend of seamless cooperation and having each other’s back while still bantering back and forth like an old married couple. I don’t know about anyone else, but for me that’s hands down my favorite type of relationship in fiction, and I don’t think I could ever get tired of it.

my “wishlist” is already coming together pretty nicely (and I’m happy to say Horikoshi finally checked off a major item as of chapter 285, though I’m still holding out for Bakugou to quote that iconic “you looked like you needed saving” line back at Deku at some point; hey, one can always hope) and has been pretty much since chapter 120 to tell the truth, which is when he really started to resolve the relationship (and it absolutely was a bold move). but here are a few more things I’m keeping my fingers crossed for. I know you specifically said the aftermath of this arc, but I sort of ended up doing a “things I want from now up until the end of the series” thing instead, lol my bad.

anyway, so BakuDekuish Things I Would Like To See:

the reveal that Bakugou’s hero name is tied to Deku.

the two of them having Mutual Angst about whatever the fuck is going to happen with All Might. :/

Bakugou returning the favor Deku paid him way back in chapter 62, once Deku finally has whatever crisis of faith the series seems to be building him up to. if you recall, 62 was the chapter where Bakugou threw a temper tantrum about having to work together with Deku and was all “I’d rather lose,” and Deku LOST HIS SHIT COMPLETELY and clocked him clean in the jaw and was all “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SAY THAT YOU’D RATHER LOSE,” and got him to see sense that sometimes you can’t win all on your own and you have to work together in order to accomplish that. to make a long story short, I think the series is building up to a similar moment, except with the roles reversed Because Parallels, and Kacchan helping Deku get his head on straight when it comes to trying to save everyone all by himself.

a threequel fight at Ground Beta. possibly in connection to the above angst, if they are feeling so inclined. or else maybe building up to...

Bakugou apologizing to Deku (and yes he does need to, and yes it is coming; 284 was pretty much confirmation of that. if All Might says they will have their chance to talk then they’ll have their chance to talk, dammit).

Horikoshi revealing what The Deal Is with that Bakuvestige (which I debated including on this list because I know it’s still controversial af lol, but screw it. I want to see a Kacchan vestige giving Deku some Cranky Vestige Advice, and also teaming up with spirit!Deku and the All Might!vestige and the rest to battle AFO at the end of the series. this post goes more in depth as to how I think it might play out).

and last but not least, hand-holding is all well and good, and I know everyone’s kind of (justifiably) obsessed with it right now thanks to volume 29. but I’m gonna go ahead and take it one step further than that, and put it out there into the universe that as far as heartfelt gestures of affection and long-overdue reconciliation go, what I am really craving more than anything else is A HUG. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT. DON’T BE BABIES ABOUT THIS, YOU TWO. HUGS ARE MANLY AF, SO GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND DO IT ALREADY. no Kacchan, I don’t want to hear about “eww Deku cooties.” yes, Deku will cry. you probably will cry too you big emo, just suck it up and do it already goddammit.

anyway, so there you have it. honestly though, no matter how many of these Horikoshi ultimately decides to indulge me on, I’m pretty sure this will continue to be my favorite relationship in the series. and honestly, I think a large part of that for me is because they started to sort their shit out so early. speaking as someone who was a big Naruto fan back in the day and never got over how poorly Naruto and Sasuke’s relationship was handled, for me Deku and Kacchan’s relationship is sort of an ongoing therapy for that lol. three cheers for rivals who actually talk their shit out with each other, and listen. goddamn.