#i know the lyrics don't match up with what is going on too in some

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬✯

IN WHICH... i explain my fav songs of the month and how they match with the triplets.

WARNINGS: sex is briefly talked about but its nothing really.

𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐆𝐎 ☆ 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐈 𝐅𝐓 𝐉𝐓

I want to start by saying why this is one of my fav songs at the moment. I love Doechii THE BITCH ALWAYS SERVES CUNTTTTTTTT!!!!! this song just does sum to me, it makes me want to go to the ballroom and vouge and do five death drops in a row! the beat, the lyrics, THE MUSIC VIDEO! it reminds me sm of Azelia Banks (that hoe so problematic it's not even funny anymore) and i love it!

now on to why i think this song is perfect for nick

an alter ego is basically a persons second face/persona that we don't see until it's time for it to come out. and one thing i think a lot of people in this fandom forgets is that WE DON'T KNOW THEM! we as viewers have this image of them in our head based off of what they let us see through a screen, and nick doesn't let us forget that. he has stated many times that most of our opinions are wrong (them not being friends with people, la vs Boston debate etc.) and i think that's important.

I'm not saying nick has an alter ego or is two faced,but he is a leo man and them mfs headstrong! and that's what this song breathes!!! it gives a headstrong bad bitch that nobody can say shit to!!! THAT IS NICK!!! NICK ALWAYS PUTTING US AND OTHERS IN PLACE AND ITS NEEDED!!!

"NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH THESE HOES AINT PHASIN ME. NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH BOO BOO BITCH YOU DEAD TO ME" nick does not let this fandom phase him fr. he does wtf he wanna do when he wanna do it. of course he loves us and appreciates us, but he not with our bull shit!!

"UNFAZED UNBOTHERED UNFUCKWITHABLE BITCH, WHY BOTHER?" a lot of people like to sit up here and run they mouth saying nick is so bothered, and he cares too much about what people think. LIE!!!!! YALL JUST DONT UNDERSTAND HIM!!! HES UNFAZED WITH THE BULL SHIT, IT DON'T BOTHER HIM FR!!! HE FINDS THE SHIT FUNNY! HE LIKE MAKING YALL TALK ABOUT HIM BUT HE DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YALL START WITH HIM AND HIS FAMILY IN THE FIRST PLACE.

"IM THE PROBLEM, IM THE VILLIAN. I DONT SEE THESE HOES IN THESE RICK SHEILDS, THROWIN DIRT ON MY NAME AND HE GON HIT STILL!" people love to make nick the villain when he isn't!!! some people fr never had somebody tell them how it is and they just run with the narrative that someone is being mean when they not!!! he not being mean, he keeping it a buck fifty with yall!!! and tbh he don't care if yall see as the villain cuz why? he still got more money than us and we never gon be on his level fr.

@thenickgirl had to let ppl know to stop messing with him!!!!

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐈'𝐒 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 ☆ 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄

i want to say this before i start. BEYONCE PUT HER WHOLE MF COOCHIE INTO COWBOY CARTER OMFGGGG!!!! IM SECRECTLY A WHORE FOR COUNTRY MUSIC SO I REALLY FEEL LIKE SHE MADE THIS ALBUM FOR ME!!!

OK LET'S GET INTO IT NO DOJA!

this description is going to be a bit different from Nick's and Chris's because I'm focusing more on the vibe of the song. the whole premise of this song (in my opinion) is two lovers just loving on each other! idk why i get big Matt vibes from this song😭 maybe because i love the idea of Cowboy Matt (before anyone say anything I'm making a Cowboy Matt series! it's already being written!) and yeah i don't have to say much more on that topic.

like yall know when Matt be smiling and giggling at his phone in car videos? i could already imagine his girlfriend sending him a pic of her ass in the new jeans and he just-

lemme stop before i write a whole separate fic for this song.

"YOU CALL ME PRETTY LITTLE THING, AND I LOVE TO TURN HIM ON." matt would deff call his girl a pretty little thing. she would be blushing and kicking her feet an ion blame her!!! and i too would love to turn him on!!

"BOY ILL LET YOU BE MY LEVI JEANS SO YOU CAN HUG THAT ASS ALL DAY LONG" matt would not resist looking at his gf ass and he would deff walk with his hand in her back pocket!!

"SO HOP OUT THE PHONE AND BRING THAT SHIT ON 'CAUSE IM GOING NOSEDIVE" matt the munch. pussy drunk. hurry tf up and bring your ass to him cause he bout to eat you out for hours!!!

thank you for coming to my ted talk on why Cowboy Matt is my fav and i need Matt eating me out ASAP!!!

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐋𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒

I PROMISE IM NOT ONE OF THE FANS WHO LOVES SKIES CUZ OF CHRIS!!! I WAS LISTENING TO SKIES WHEN LIFE OF A DARK ROSE DROPPED!! i truly loves skies cuz his music just takes me back to the era of SoundCloud and i was actually happy lmao.

onto the topic.

now, i didn't pick this song cuz chris loves skies, i picked it cuz i feel like to a certain degree, it matches chris perfectly!!! lust doesn't have to mean sex, it could be towards money, adrenaline, etc.

Although Skies does talk about sex in this song, i think he's saying that he's lusting after money and the adrenaline that comes with fame and success, but he's lacking the love that was once there and he's lusting for love as well.

i think that relates to chris's whole being. he's constantly spitting out ideas and created his own brand to chase the bag, chase his dreams. i lowkey like to believe chris is an adrenaline junky. not in a sense of jumping off cliffs or anything, more in a sense of just doing stupid shit like fighting with his brothers and suggesting crazy plans.

idk if my description of this makes any sense i just can't put it into words so imma do the lyrics and try to explain further.

"GET IN MY WAY AND TRY TO BLOCK ME IMMA SHOW AGRESSION" this could be towards a person or himself. I'm not saying chris is money hungry, he's just about his bag. he wouldn't like for anyone, including himself to get in the way of making his dreams come true and if they do, i think he gets a bit hostile. it could be him cutting them off, or simply just distancing himself for a bit. if it's himself i think that's when he gets sad and beats himself up. he said it in a few videos that he becomes hard on himself, or he gets sad before bed and i think that's why.

"GOT NO REGRETS, I MADE MISTAKES, BUT I LEARNED FROM MY LESSONS" this lyrics speaks volumes for chris!!!! i feel like it was said by him that he doesn't regret things he's done in the past or experienced, but he's glad he's learned from them. i think all of them are big on "life's a lesson, learn from it." he doesn't dwell too much on the past, it's done and all he can do is move past it and learn to not make the same mistake with people or opportunities.

"DON'T BE ACTING STARSTRUCKED EVERYTIME THEY SHOW YOU LOVE." this could be towards friendships or relationships. it's no secret LA is full of fake people but it's honestly everyone at this point in time. i think chris realized that at some point. just because people smile in your face and act nice don't mean the friendship/relationship is real. people always want something, and its not always love, it could be sex, money, and or fame. it doesn't surprise him anymore. i think that's why he stick to who and what he knows, especially in the relationship sense.

i think imma do this every month, this was fun lmao. tell me what yall fav songs are atm!!!

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n

[statementlou]

x

[writersblockiskillingme]

hiiii here’s my request idea 🫶🏽 after getting sent to district 12 coriolanus meets fem!reader (who’s a part of the covey) he thought he was in love with lucy gray but ends up falling for reader way more intensely than he did for lucy gray but reader feels guilty because lucy gray seems to really like him and she doesn’t want to betray her

Another Love | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader (Covey!reader)

Summary: He loved her from a moment he saw her, but she can't love him back.

Warning/s: angst, heartbreak, forbidden love, two or three curse words, tears, possessive Coriolanus, reader's abusive ex, ex touching the reader without permission (nothing graphic, he just grabs reader's arm), no happy ending, grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I used some of the lyrics of Taylor Swift's King of My Heart as a song that "reader wrote for Coryo" and I skipped one part of the main song that I used because I felt like it wouldn't fit the timeline. So, this one's been a long time coming, but I hope you enjoy!

(Y/N) - your name

(Y/H/C) - your hair color

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

But it's so cold and I don't know where

I brought you daffodils in a pretty string

But they won't flower like they did last spring

Coriolanus Snow felt his nerves getting the best of him. He felt shivers going down his spine as Lucy Gray and him got closer and closer to their destination.

He was supposed to meet the rest of the Covey, her family, today. Lucy Gray held his hand tightly, squeezing it a bit more as she noticed just how nervous he truly seemed to be.

It didn't comfort him much.

Not her hand in his, it felt too small now. Nor her presence next to him. It didn't excite him as much as it did once. Yet he loved her, right?

Right?

As they finally got to the lake the lake he noticed a group of people sitting by the edge of the lake.

He could practically feel the excitement radiating off of Lucy Gray as he noticed one of them turned around noticing them and taping the ones close to gain their attention to the arrivals, too.

Lucy Gray didn't let go of him as she eagerly introduced him to evey single member of her family, the Covey.

That day Coriolanus met little Maude Ivory, Barb Azure, Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine Clade.

"And finally my big cousin, (Y/N) Baird." Lucy Gray smiled and when you looked up Coriolanus could've sworn that his heart stopped.

Your beauty was truly unmatched, your kind smile so radiant so infection that he was willing to die because of it any day you wished. Your hair was graciously flowing around in the wind just like your light summer dress. Your posture, your face. But once you spoke he knew that he was a gonner.

"Nice to meet you, Coriolanus Snow." Your voice was as kind as your eyes, it matched you perfectly.

Later on, he saw you sitting under the tree, away from the sun, away from the rest of your family.

Coriolanus felt truly, utterly, stupid for a bit as he stood a few feet away from Lucy Gray's, obviously favorite, cousin as he held a young, brightly yellow, daffodil that he found by the edge of the forest, not that far away from the lake where the rest of the Covey were.

He didn't know why did he do it. He didn't know why would he pick a flower and give it to you. He just figured that the flower was pretty (just like you were) and that you will probably like it.

But deep down he knew, but just yet wouldn't admit it to himself.

"For you."

You looked up, your eyes meeting with gorgeous blue ones as he held out a gorgeous daffodil to you. You couldn't help but to laugh out loud at the irony that consumed you.

Coriolanus watched you laugh, he never heard a sound as angelic as this, not even when he heard Lucy Gray sing.

He hated himself for it. He hated himself for wanting to bottle up that angelic laugh and keep it for himself, to protect it, to own it. But he couldn't help but to wonder why are you laughing.

"What's funny if I may ask?" He gently asked, afraid that you were laughing at him, finding his stupidity oh so amazing. He was scared of rejection, but why?

He's with Lucy Gray.

"It's just-" Your laughter turned into a giggle, Coriolanus felt blood suddenly rushing into his cheeks as he heard the sound that you were making, because of him.

"Daffodils are my favorite flowers, it's a little funny that you picked a random flower and guessed this."

Coriolanus couldn't help himself. He found himself laughing too as he sat down and got to know you.

The day passed quickly, probably because he spent it with you. So as he stepped away from you after saying goodbye and as he slipped his hand into Lucy Gray's hand he knew he fucked up.

The way his chest tightened when you laughed, the way his hand accidentally brushed against yours when you talked he realized that it fit his perfectly. Like it was made to be held by him. The way that your hair fell in front of your eyes, shielding them from him... all he wanted was to brush it away, yet he knew he couldn't.

And as Lucy Gray talked about how happy she was that he got along with everyone amazingly, he knew he fucked up because he realized that he fell in love with you even though he knew that he shouldn't have.

And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight

But my hand's been broken one too many times

So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude

Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose

"Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping"

Your voice echoed through the bar as you sang your heart out on the stage.

The people around were dancing and singing along with your beautiful, angelic yet strong voice like their life dependent on it.

Coriolanus was standing in the corner, leaned against the weirdly wet wall, smile placed onto his face as he watched you perform. Warm feeling spreaded across his chest as he watched you. A fire that will soon be drowned buy cold icy feeling as he watched someone coming up to you. Talking to you while you clearly didn't want to talk to him.

"Let go of me, now!"

Coriolanus took one step forward so he could see better and try to figure out who is bothering you and clearly making you uncomfortable. He felt himself freeze once he realized who it was.

Thomas Vill. Your abusive ex.

He remembered Lucy Gray talking to him about your ex. He remembered her saying that he made your life a living hell.

Coriolanus instantly saw red the moment he realized that he harshly grabbed your hand, not letting you go. The fear in your eyes was enough to set Coriolanus to move toward the stage as quickly as he could.

He still doesn't remember how that happened, but he grabbed Thomas by his shoulders as he planted his fist directly into his face, blood spraying his fist the moment it locked onto Thomas' face.

He heard you gasp at the sight, but he didn't stop.

Coriolanus pushed Thomas onto the floor as he started to beat the audacity out of him. You never saw him this angry before.

You quickly, somehow, snapped out of the shock and started to try and pull Coriolanus off of him because you realized that if you didn't do something, he will kill him in front of you.

And it's not like Thomas didn't deserve it, but you didn't want Coryo to get into more trouble now that he had finally somewhat gotten his life into control.

Sejanus Plinth saw what happened. He was quick to join you and started to pull Coriolanus off of Thomas. He lucky succeed because he was stronger. He was a Peacekeeper after all.

You felt panic arise into your throat as you looked around and realized that almost everyone was staring at you.

Without spearing Thomas a second glance, you ran after Coriolanus and Sejanus. Your mind racing, what will Lucy Gray think? Why did her love beat up her cousin's ex in front of more than half of District 12.

Once you pushed yourself through the crowd you finally reached the outside where you saw Coriolanus spitting some blood from his mouth, your heart braking at the sight.

"What did you think that you were doing?!" You couldn't help to yell at him as you finally reached him.

"He was lucky I didn't kill him." Coriolanus answered calmly as he rubbed his lips to get rid of the blood.

"You can't do that, Coryo!" You continued, finally spilling your emotions out in front of the man you loved.

"So what?!" Coriolanus raised his voice now, too. "I could've just let that bastard touch you against your will?!"

"No!" You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. "But what would Lucy Gray think if she saw you doing that?"

You were so scared.

Was he not thinking rationally?

"I don't care." He answered, truthfully, you knew that and it scared you.

For a moment you were quiet until he spoke up again.

"You know I love you, right?" He asked you, peeking at you in the night, moonlight reflected the beauty of his deep blue eyes.

"No..." You felt every last bit of air leave your lungs as you spoke, panic raising in your chest. "You can't love me, Coryo."

"Why not?" He asked in frustration, his chest moving up and down in desperate attempt to calm himself, to try and rid himself of this injustice.

"Don't-" your voice broke. "Don't do this to me." You begged.

He gently grabbed your hand and your breath quickened, it was nothing like when Thomas grabbed you earlier. This was soft, caring even as he brought your body closer to his.

"Tell me why." He was begging now, oh God how much did he hate this. "Tell me that you don't love me."

"I-"

"Look me in the eyes, (Y/N), and tell me that you don't love me and I will walk away." Coriolanus spoke, his breath on your cold cheeks as he spoke. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't want me."

"Coryo-"

"Break my heart the way it's supposed to happen." He breathed out. "Go on."

"I-" You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes not realizing that you're crying. "I love you, but I can't."

"(Y/N)-"

"You can want to love me and I can do that too, but I can't do it to my cousin." You spoke separating yourself from him as you left him in the middle of the cold night, tears streaming down your cheeks as you went.

Lucy Gray.

And I'd sing a song that'd be just ours

But I sang 'em all to another heart

And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love

But all my tears have been used up

"Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep."

Lucy Gray's voice echoed through the bar as she played the guitar and sang the song you wrote.

You told the Covey you weren't really feeling good so you decided to stay backstage as you listened to Lucy Gray and the rest of the Covey, and watched the crowd singing and dancing the the words that you poured out from the depths of your heart.

Your eyes were searching for Coriolanus in the bar and after a while you finally found him.

He was sitting on a par of turned-over buckets with Sejanus. He was wearing simple clothes instead of his Peacekeeper uniform, but he was still wearing his dog tag that initiated that he had probably finished his shift and he decided to show up here.

You couldn't do this.

Lucy Gray's voice was happily singing away at the cords and lyrics that were written by you as she kept her eyes looked onto Coriolanus' blue ones.

His eyes were sparkling, but not as much as they did when he was with you.

Lucy Gray was so happy with him. So full of joy, and you were so happy for her, but fuck... you loved him, too.

You knew that he loved her, but you also knew that perhaps he loved you more. Yet you knew that you couldn't and wouldn't ever break Lucy Gray's heart like that. She was your cousin and you knew that guilt would be eating you alive, it already did.

So with a tear sliding down your cheek you listened to her sing before you turned around and left.

"And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for,

King of my heart, body and soul"

Coriolanus Snow really tried to keep his eyes on her, but once she sang that his gaze found your (Y/H/C) for a moment before it disappeared behind the curtains. His chest tightened at the sight and at the words that you wrote for him.

You were like a delicate flower, like an angel sent to guide him. You were eveything that he needed, a daffodil in the middle of the winter.

But he couldn't have you and you couldn't have him. It's just the way it had to be, no matter how painful it was.

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[noosayog]

[... and yet, it's you] - ft. oikawa toru

summary: there's a chinese song with the lyrics 【咸魚白菜也好好味】 which translates to "eating even dried salted fish and bok choi is good." with the meaning that i'm happy with anything as long as it's with you.

wc: 1.3k

for @shibaraki's komorebi collab! thank you for letting me participate, Monty!

1. Sharing a bathroom

The shower is already running when you finally drag yourself out of bed. Your vision is still bleary as you methodically brush your teeth, content to let your mind slowly clear out its sleepy fog to the sound of Oikawa humming in the shower.

You're at the toilet when Oikawa says, "why do you always do that?"

"Do what," you respond.

"Like… let out a little bit of pee before you pee the rest of it out."

You laugh a bit. "You're gonna think it's stupid."

"Just tell me," he says, seriously curious now.

"Once when I was really little, I dreamt that I was peeing in the bathroom but then realized I was still in bed when I woke up to myself wetting the bed."

The shower stops so you can hear Oikawa chuckling. "That wasn't what I was expecting."

"Well, I don't know what you expected but I'm not risking anything. I was traumatized."

"As someone who shares a bed with you, I'm grateful for that."

2. Movie Dates

When you pick up Oikawa's facetime call, you immediately greet him with a "I'm watching a movie and I'm getting to the good part. What do you want?"

He scrunches his nose at you, whining. "Rude!"

"Well?" you prompt. "What do you want?"

"Is it so bad that I missed you and wanted to talk to you?"

You roll your eyes, but affectionately. "I'm putting you on mute."

Oikawa throws out a half-hearted protest but he'll count it as a win that you didn't hang up completely. You mute your side of the line and prop your phone on the tea table facing you, continuing to watch your movie. Oikawa's perfectly content just watching your facial expressions through the small screen and obediently stays quiet.

He mutes his line. too, putting on reruns of an older match but periodically looks over to check in on you. And every time he does, he can't help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expressions change scene to scene. Eventually, he keeps his attention glued on your face through the screen, watching your light chuckles and your mouth moving when you exclaim in disbelief over something stupid a character did. By the end of the movie, you’re swiping tears from your eyes and you finally notice that your boyfriend has been watching you.

"Oh my god, Toru," you unmute to say. "That was such a good movie. We have to watch it together next time."

Oikawa's smile widens, eyes crinkling affectionately. "Anything you want, babe."

3. Out Shopping 

On a rare Sunday that Oikawa actually takes off, the two of you head to the nearest major shopping mall to pick up some kitchen items. Oikawa keeps a tight grip around your hands as you ooh and ahh at all the colorful things in the mall; one distracted moment and he would lose you in the sea of people.

As you wander to aisles, you pass by the televisions where a rerun of an Olympic volleyball match is playing. Oikawa instinctively slows down to pay attention, taking mental notes of things he should try at tomorrow's practice.

His attention is pulled away when he feels you trying to pry your fingers out of his fists, only able to pull at his hand when his grip tightens.

"Toru," you say, "let go. I want to go see the bowls over there."

"Okay, let's go then," he agrees, tearing his attention away from the screens.

"No," you say, continuing to tug at your joined hands. "You can keep watching. I'll go look myself."

"What? Why? Let's just go together," he offers, but you tug your hand free.

"It's fine," you say, already walking towards the display that has your attention.

"Hey!" he protests, trying to follow your figure that has already blended into the crowds. Even with his towering height, he does his best to follow after you, locking in on the colorful sweater you decided to wear today.

Despite Oikawa having a significant edge over you in the height department, your little legs carry you surprisingly fast as you weave through people moving in every direction. The distance between the two of you grows larger until you finally stop to admire the collection of pottery on the shelves. He hastily closes the distance before you take off again. 

"Geez, for someone so short," he punctuates this statement with a heavy hand on your head, leaning heavily on it to dramatically catch his breath, "you sure walk fast."

You swat his hands away and reach up to the top shelf for the set of bowls you like.

He easily grabs them for you and puts them into the basket that he was sure wasn't in your hands when you were still by the TVs. He plucks the basket out of your grip and continues to tease you.

"It's always the short ones that walk like today's the last day of their lives," he laughs.

"Shut up, Toru," you fix him with a scathing glare and he holds his hands up in surrender.

You scoff, but take hold of his hand again, leading him to the next display you want to take a look at. He smiles contentedly now that your hands are joined again. And that's all he really wanted. 

4. Bedtime Routine 

You’re in bed, all tucked in when Oikawa finally joins you. He quietly prepares for bed and gently gets under the covers so as not to wake you. His arms reach over, ready to pull you in for a good night kiss but he doesn’t get the chance because one of your hands pops out from under the duvet to smack him in the forehead. 

“Ow! Why?!” he sputters. 

You scowl at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut the door when you come in!” 

“Okay, okay,” he rubs his forehead but obeys. The door shuts. “Happy?” 

You grunt. 

He chuckles a bit, charmed at your grumpiness. 

He tries again to pull you in, but this time, your hand reaches out to pinch the nearest part of his body. That happens to be his left pec. 

“Ouch! What now?” 

“Did you open the windows?” 

Without complaint, he climbs out of bed again to open the window, allowing a gust of cold night air to swallow the room. He sees your legs wiggle a bit from under the duvet and smiles inwardly. 

For the third time, he climbs in bed but stays a good distance away in case he forgot any other part of your night ritual. 

You turn around to face him, duvet pulled above your nose so he can only see your eyes. 

“Why are you so far?” 

“Are you done hurting me?” 

You scoff. “As if you even felt any of it.” 

“My forehead is red!” he exclaims. 

“Fine, stay on that side then.” 

Oikawa can’t help but laugh, shifting over to you and wrapping you up in a hug so tight, you let out a squeal when he squeezes. He doesn’t want to let go, so he keeps his arms tight around your torso and turns to lay on his back, pulling you so that your entire body is splayed over his. 

“Toru, I’ll squash you!” 

He ignores you and just nuzzles gently into neck. You sigh and shift so that you’re chest to chest with him, your head falling to the side so that your noses don’t collide. You’ll never tell him that you like the windows open every night so that the room is cool enough for you to bask in his warmth without overheating. 

Oikawa sighs, smoothing his palm over your back. “Good night, baby.” 

You murmur it back. 

Oikawa thinks this is it. This is the life - just being able to do your silly nighttime routine with you. Your warmth lulls him to sleep and he’s almost there when he feels you prop up, palms pushing hard enough on his chest that it forces an exhale out of his lungs. 

“Did you get me a glass of water? You know I get thirsty in the middle of the night.” 

He sighs, but obliges all the same.

[johns-prince]

I Don't Know (Oh Johnny Johnny)

After listening to this "forgotten" song by John and Paul on repeat, with excruciating scrutiny of trying my darndest to make out the lyrics.

This song is approximately recorded around 1960, could have even been 1959, and I've read it was apparently recorded when the group was going by the Silver Beatles. Also, apparently recorded at Paul's house? I'm not sure.

Whether you think it's just them fooling about, simple improvising and nothing at all, I think if they were going to take the effort to record it, it had to mean something.

Even if some or half of it is "improv," it still sounds like a conversation between the two.

It's not unlike them to use music to communicate and express personal thoughts and feelings, wants. There's also nobody else there... it's just them.

Just a couple of the clearer lyrics from Paul at the start:

"Hey now Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, Oh God, Johnny boy, how are we gonna tell them?"

"Oh Johnny boy you wore me out"

It also sounds in one line Paul is singing, "Well you got me!"

Then John starts up.

And I know some people claim the start for John here is him saying "Well little boy" but I have to say that doesn't match up with what I've heard.

Doesn't sound anything like boy, but it does sound like John is saying, "Oh little darling, packing my shoes.. " can't make the following bit before, "cuz I'm losin' you"

"I'm going to see my sister soon. She don't want to see me I don't know really what I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do."

Now you've got Paul again:

"Well Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, when I call you Johnny, well Johnny Johnny oh Johnny, when I'm calling you..."

"Well I don't know what I'm going to tell them..." okay, these lyrics are really difficult to decipher. Maybe it's just my brains attempt at conjuring coherent words from the incoherent sounds, but, what follows this sounds ALMOST sounds as if Paul is telling him what he'll tell the fellas, about thoughts regarding John (I've still got thoughts of you/I'll still have thoughts of you/or, I'll still vouch for you)

Then the closest thing to ever getting to hear what Paul McCartney sounds like when pleading:

"Please Johnny, please Johnny"

John's response is:

"Well I'll tell the fellas I'm traveling with you"

And funnily enough, it's John saying, "I don't know what I'm gonna to do when I tell my mother we're gonna leave town." Of course if this is recorded in 1958/1960, Julia is no longer around...

Paul reiterates this though, confirming it, "Yeah we're gonna leave town."

Paul continues with this dogged line, I can catch a couple of "we gotta leave, we just gotta leave, we gotta leave right now."

Then—

"Take the next bus out of town, then we won't let nobody down!"

It's a conversation about getting out, breaking out, starting over just the two of them... With some interesting mentions of family and friends finding out, about something, with them, between them? And disappointing everyone, causes family to turn them away.

The reason couldn't have just been that they were wanting to become famous musicians together, right? I don't think that alone could be it considering Mimi nor Jim, or Julia or John's sisters, ever turned them away or shunned them because of this dream they were already chasing by this time.

The song progresses to where it sounds as if John has reservations about leaving, he's not as confident about the plan as originally thought.

Paul keeps singing the "we gotta leave, get outta town." I caught a "don't hold me down."

John starts repeating "I don't know" which results in Paul repeatedly calling out, "Oh Johnny Johnny Johnny oh Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny..." Again, it's almost like pleading, "How could you not know? We have to go, we have to leave town, you can't tell me “I don't know” now. Don't do this now."

Now, I will say this, the full lyrical interpretations of this song, while I commend others for trying too, hold too many issues for me to agree upon their validity. I don't catch any "I love yous" and the such, but I think what I have caught, and how John and Paul are singing to each other and with each other here, alone, as teenage boys chasing their dream, is enough to convince me still that this song is so intimately about them, their relationship, and what they dreamed of doing together.

Running off, getting out and creating music together. Running away together. The song technically foreshadowing this honeymoon-esque trip of John and Paul doing just that when John turned 21, and with 100 quid took Paul on a trip.

Two teenage boys not knowing what to do, lamenting over something, something getting out to their family that would cause them to be turned away and to cause disappointment. I don't necessarily attribute that to them chasing the dream of becoming famous musicians together, but it could be. It could be many different things. Could just be me overanalyzing...

The end of the song is a lot more scrambled, difficult to make out, but it sounds like both John and Paul are back to both agreeing to the fact they need to get out, leave town, together.

Also imagining the fact they probably looked something close to this while thumping around and singing this song in Paul's house, alone together, gives me feelings.

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Love Language (Skz - Hyung line) ‗ ❍

Pairings : Chan x reader, Minho x reader, Changbin x reader, Hyunjin x reader

Genre/warnings : Half headcanon and half scenarios. They all start fluffy and fun and end up suggestively/with a little smut. Regardless strictly 18+

Summary : Each member has some specific dynamics in their relationship that makes your love so special. These are some of them <3

Word count : 2.1 K

A/n : The summary and title suck I know apologies lol, just read to understand lol. Anyways have fun!

ps: There could be errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

Maknae line link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chan ‗ ❍

Chan would be absolutely smitten with someone that either had his same talents with music (the whole process) or at the very least someone that is genuinely interested in what he does. He would feel very validated and happy about it , for sure.

"Oh wow is this something new?" he'd answer yes and ask if you wanted to hear it. Of course you'd say yes in a heartbeat. You'd sit on his lap and listening intently to the new sample/recording, bopping your head to it slightly along with the rhythm.

He would try play it cool but would secretly be really hopeful of your response. When you finished listening you'd say something like "That was great, Channie. I especially liked-" and then you'd go into detail about it. He would be smiling so wide I just know.

Extra bonus points if you start adding some technical specifics or took the initiative to give other ideas, keeping in mind everything that you learned from him. Now he's absolutely in awe and wouldn't be able to hide it.

Or maybe it could be a lyric draft, a new dance bit to learn, some raw vocals and so on. Honestly just any part of his work.

He can be insecure sometimes and doubt his own abilities, so I feel like he would gain so much confidence if someone that he genuinely cared about gave him positive feedback. Especially since you'd try to be always really honest with each other, he would value that a lot too.

So in short, shower him in compliments and make him all shy, he'll love that and hate that at the same time.

It could also be that maybe you're not an expert in the matter and would simply ask him to explain further his inspiration/ideas or the process behind whatever he was doing.

Either way one of you would end up impressed af and randomly go like "You know that was really hot, right?"

Next thing you know you're fucking on the studio couch. Or the desk. Or you riding him on the studio chair. The possibilities are multiple.

"So you think I'm really hot, uh?" he'd tease, making you smile breathlessly. You'd get closer to his ear and whisper "Yes. Always" making him groan.

"You seemed such an expert a few moments ago" he'd say in between thrusts, "Should we make our own beat? What do you say, uh? Can't talk now?" you'd clench around him, too out of it to respond.

"My baby is too fucked out to talk now?" he'd tease, but quickly add some sort of praise like "My good girl, so smart".

He could and would absolutely tease you to get you hot and bothered but would never miss to also shower you in praises like you do with him.

Minho ‗ ❍

I feel he's someone who would love to have a person that can easily match his energy, but also sweep him off his feet.

If he's being serious, he'd want you to also be serious. Unless it was a situation in which you know that he just needs some jokes to make him calm down. If he's in a teasing mood or maybe a rare cheesy mood, he'd like you to play along. Imagine if he decided to be really sweet and you're like "What are you doing Minho"

He would absolutely take it ten times worse that it actually is. Especially if we're talking about occasions in which he allows himself to be comfortable and play around. So don't do that please lol

He would find it very amusing if you actually managed to not only keep up with him but maybe even take it a step further. Maybe when he's making a joke or being ironic. If he's being cute and you act even cuter it would make him happy/shy. If he gets into a heated conversation and you're open to discuss it with him, he would really appreciate you speaking your mind and listening to his thoughts.

He would also get quite protective of your own feelings, wanting to demonstrate the same consideration and love to you. He'd make sure to also adapt well to your own mood or cheer you up and comfort you if you needed it. I guess we could say that trusting each other with your feelings and emotions is your love language. And that's why you work so well together; you're truly friends before you're lovers.

But again, in general he would get so giddy and excited when you do share his vibe. Would probably end up with the tension going through the roof. Sexy, angsty, funny, cute. Doesn't matter really.

And now suddenly he's having his way with you in whichever place you're in and truly keep the energy going.

"Oh you think you're funny now, uh?" would absolutely tease you for going along with him and turn it against you. Say shit like"Such a naughty girl for making such jokes" only to make you go insane.

Not in public, absolutely never in public. He's not a big fan of drawing the attention on him especially when he feels vulnerable. But once you get home, oh boy. Again, could be anywhere around the house in any moment of the day.

"Minho-" you'd try to say in between kisses, "Are you sure this is the time for this?" your tone not convincing even yourself. He'd smirk, jokingly grazing his teeth on your neck, "Why not? What, you want me to stop?" he'd tease, making you immediately say no and kiss him harshly.

Those kind of "I don't even know how I ended up here" type of situations. Insane and unhinged just like the man himself.

A joke goes too far and you're laughing a little to hard while you're doing laundry? The washing machine will do. You just got home and are too horny to think straight? The wall next to the entrance sounds good. It's a lazy evening and you're watching something on tv? The bedroom is the place. And so on <3

Changbin ‗ ❍

Changbin is probably someone who would love to have someone that he could spoil and take care of, 'baby' if you will, but would 100% do it back. I almost feel like it would be a standard for a relationship.

He is the type of man that would treat you like royalty and make sure that you're never missing anything. He wouldn't do it expecting to get anything in return, it's just really a matter of affecting and his love language.

But, it would make him very very happy if his s/o had the same type of dynamic.

For him specifically we're talking about both non material and material type of gifts/attention. Like comforting you or making you laugh when you need it, always making sure that you're comfortable and taken care of.

But also I feel like he would spoil you with gifts both randomly and in special occasions. If for example he buys you a birthday gift, it would have to be the best option that fit your taste perfectly. I also feel like you noticing it and making a comment on it like "Oh, Binnie thank you so much, it's my favorite color!" would make him extremely proud. Just in general seeing you happy and knowing that he contributed to it.

On your side, I think he would truly appreciate even the smallest and most mundane things like grabbing his jacket for him before he goes out and give him a little kiss goodbye, adding a slightly bigger portion of a food that he likes in comparison to another that he enjoys less, taking his hand/stroking his arm when he's feeling nervous to comfort him and so on.

It would make him feel loved. And a little babyed too, which I think he'd love to be honest. He'd absolutely baby you in return though, for sure.

All of these situations could easily turn into more explicit ones with the right setting or the right occasion.

For example, if we're talking about gifts, something a little kinky could be you buying a set of lingerie 'just for him'. Or the opposite. He could be the one buying you a nice necklace and comment on how he'd "Like to see you wearing only that"

Or maybe he could have a special event/professional engagement that he's feeling nervous about and you could say something like "I know you're gonna do great. My Binnie is always so good" getting closer to him adding "Make sure to do very well today too for me, okay? Just think of me waiting for you at home with a gift for you only" you'd add some touching or kissing to really seal the deal.

Good job, now you successfully turned him on. Would probably get distracted from his anxiety and go around with a shit eating grin, and of course, do absolutely great on stage. And after that he'd come come with a purpose, and that purpose was thanking you properly for giving him the confidence that he needed. And find his gift, of course.

Not even the time for you to congratulate him on his performance or say hello for that matter, that he'd be passionately kissing you. "Want to show me that little gift you were talking about, princess?" you'd smirk at him and just go "Unwrap it yourself, baby boy".

And he would absolutely do that in no time but not before picking you up and then bringing you to the bedroom to fully enjoy his gift.

Hyunjin ‗ ❍

Hyunjin is somewhat of an introvert yes, but he is also someone who can completely transform on stage, and that is thanks to confidence. Whether he's actually confident or kind of 'fakes it til he makes it', you can't really tell the difference. And that's because nonetheless he genuinely enjoys himself and has lots of fun dancing, singing and performing in general.

This is why I think that something that he would truly appreciate and find attractive in a s/o is the ability to be carefree. Doesn't necessarily mean that you couldn't be insecure or at the contrary be extremely confident. It just means that nonetheless you would be able to have fun and enjoy yourself when you're doing something you like.

For him it can be dancing, for you it can be something else. Whatever it is I feel like it would make him happy to see you truly happy. And also not take yourself too seriously. Maybe even make fun of each other from time to time.

Like when he's practicing a dance routine and being all sexy and serious and shit, maybe even purposefully make a show for you, and by the end of it you'd go "Hwang Hyunjin stop making sexy faces it's just me. Or do you want to seduce the walls?" that would probably make him laugh and instantly shift the mood. Maybe even get him a little shy, never hurts to tease.

And that's when you play it off, but there could easily be other occasions in which he would 100% try to seduce you and be successful at it.

He could be singing or dancing to a particularly 'exciting' song and somehow get you involved. Maybe whispering some lyrics with a low voice, or get you to dance/move with him finding an excuse to touch you. Or maybe both at the same time.

You could also play the same game though. Maybe one night you're feeling particularly in a good mood and just wanted to dance/sing like there's no tomorrow, so you'd try to get Hyunjin involved in your fun, usually being successful. He'd get shy at first but would slowly start to let himself go too.

In the same situation, if you were feeling in a specific mood though, you'd try your best to seduce him. Again, maybe mouthing or singing some lyrics suggestively and giving him bedroom eyes. Or dancing in the sexiest way you could manage, swaying your hips, touching your body or straight up coming onto him and teasing him up close, inviting him to put his own hands on you.

At that point the level of attraction that he was already feeling just from seeing you being so carefree and confident in having fun would straight up turn into being horny. He'd follow your movements with his hands on your body, maybe joining for a while only to explode not long after.

Any surface would do. You'd be way too drunk on each other and with way too much tension to release to think straight. "Look how messy we are right now, and who's fault is that?" he'd whisper in your ear while fucking you against the dance practice room wall.

"I have no idea" you'd tease, making him chuckle breathlessly, before bringing his head closer with your hand to kiss him deeply.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[lovebugism]

i need more of “the customer is always right” before i wither away and die <3 the anticipation of IT happening is quite literally killing me ilysm

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | b-minus

summary: eddie munson takes the unconquerable english midterm that's forced him to repeat senior year two times. dustin henderson gets a pep talk. uncle wayne gives his nephew a warning. you cook your eddie spaghetti some spaghetti. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: idiots in love, experienced!reader, domestic bliss, staying the night, eddie munson tries to get used to being loved TW probable typos, swearing, discussions of being poor, talks of insecurities, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving) 18+ only!!

a/n: hi. hello. me again. you probably don't remember me because it's been almost TWO MONTHS. i'm really sorry about that btw this semester of college was sent from the actual depths of hell. please take this sixth installment of tcar and find it in your heart to forgive me <3 ily all xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, this is officially the last time I let you drive me anywhere,” Eddie gripes from the passenger seat of your too tiny car as one excruciatingly happy ABBA song bleeds into another.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re made of the same stuff you listen to — sunshine and melted ice cream and summer breezes. You match the blue skies above you as you belt the lyrics to the song you seem to know by heart.

The sight makes Eddie grin to himself, still beaming no matter how hard he rolls his eyes.

This was the only good thing about the breaks of his van going haywire and having to bum a ride to school from you — getting to see more of you in your element. 

As much as he loved having you in his passenger seat, bobbing your head to whatever rock song he’d popped into the cassette player, there was something entirely different about seeing you in the driver’s seat.

This car was your safe space, spotted with stickers on the console and polaroids on the speedometer, where you could sing any damn ABBA song you wanted to because it was your own little bubble where nothing could touch you. 

Eddie’s grateful you let him see it, all these parts of you that you reveal slowly to him like so many tiny rays of sunshine.

It’s even better to witness with a full stomach, which was maybe the second good thing about driving with you. You picked him up with time to spare to get breakfast — to take the long route to school and watch the rising sun sparkle over Lover’s Lake. There was no reason to speed through town like a maniac because he wasn’t in a rush. Today might be the first time all year he’s not five minutes late to first period.

He tells you to sing louder when you get all shy and hyperaware of his gaze, feeding you bits of your breakfast — but only on the instrumental parts so you don’t miss your favorites. The boy props his arm on the center console and folds down the wrapper of your greasy, plain biscuit with his thumb so it doesn’t get in the way of your bite. He doesn’t even complain when you try to sing through the mouthful. 

He figures that this is what love is. A part of it, at least. That stupid, philosophical feeling people have been trying to describe for ages is sitting right beside him — with crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth as she mixes up the words to the Dancing Queen chorus.

Love isn’t butterflies or tight chests — it’s this. It’s letting a person listen to music you hate because you know they love it and not caring that they’re singing horrifically off-key.

And it’s not like Eddie’s in love with you or anything. He’s just got a lot of adoration for you. It’s the kind of innocent affection that makes him love ABBA and think you’re one of the best damn singers he’s ever heard in his life — even though neither would be particularly true if he didn’t care about you so much.

It’s sort of like the love he’s got for Dustin, to still care about the little shrimp even when he’s annoying him to no end. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because Dustin Henderson isn’t the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Dustin Henderson doesn’t make him feel like his heart is being trampled by an entire stampede of zoo animals. 

No one quite makes Eddie feel the way you do. But even if he was in love with you, he’s got no way of knowing the difference — between loving and being in love. The only thing he’s really sure of is that he doesn’t know a damn thing. And that the sick feeling in his stomach he gets every time he looks at you can’t possibly be normal.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” you retort. Your words come slurred and slightly muffled through the bite of biscuit in your cheek. “I know you secretly like it.”

“Of course I do!” he shouts over the catchy bass guitar and your subsequent laughter. “It’s just not the kinda shit I wanna listen to right before I take the biggest test of my life.”

It’s true. The past two times he’s been forced to take Ms. O’Donnell’s impossible midterm exam, he's listened to the exact same song — ‘Ride the Lightning,’ Metallica. It’s the only song that gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to gather the confidence to fail the same test. Twice. 

Eddie Munson is a creature of habit. Today marks the third anniversary of the dreaded day that makes or breaks his high school career, but instead of spending it with Metallica, he’s spending it with you. He wants to believe you’re a good luck charm or some kind of lucky omen, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up.

Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. That’s what Uncle Wayne always said.

“I think ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ has plenty of useful advice, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The boy turns to you with a bemused wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re suggesting I makeout with Ms. O’Donnell to pass her class, I’m gonna hurl— like actually hurl. And I will deliberately do it all over the floor of your car.”

“Would you rather repeat your senior year? Again?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat and with a very enthusiastic nod that makes his wild curls sway around his face. “I would rather be a senior for the rest of my life than kiss Ms. O’Donnell.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to, right? Because you’re totally gonna ace this thing.”

This is what you’ve been doing for over a week now — twisting everything negative into something more overtly positive. You meet Eddie’s pessimism and self-doubt with a sort of hopefulness he lost somewhere between the first and second time he got held back. 

You force him to study in the gentlest way possible because you’re never anything but soft with him. You make him pretty little flashcards and flip through them with him on the opposite side of his bed, obviously more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he is. You give him sympathetic pecks on his cheek when he gets a question wrong and kiss him totally breathless when he gets the odd one right.

Eddie would be lying if he said the incentive didn’t help at least a little bit.

There is no hint of impatience or sign of hubris that makes him feel stupid. You just teach him to be kinder to himself with tiny little reminders that you’re doing all this right along with him.

“Considering I’ve failed it twice already, I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he counters, and he’s kidding — mostly. He says it with a teasing lilt and a twinkle in his squinted eyes, but you know that’s his way of covering up that he’s totally serious. 

He really doesn’t think he can do it, pass this stupid exam. He’s got absolutely no faith in himself — but that’s okay, because you’ve got all the faith in him in the world.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me to help you study,” you argue, just before accepting the last piece of biscuit he plucks from the parchment and offers to you.

You speak through the mouthful. “But now you do! And we’ve been going over this all week and—” You cut yourself off to swallow the dry pastry. “—And you totally got this. You’re gonna blow ‘em outta the park, Eddie Spaghetti. I can feel it.”

Your optimism makes him smile even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. He lolls his head against the seat to look at you, finds you with a pretty grin and tiny biscuit crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and has the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you.

It comes out of nowhere. It bubbles up all at once like vomit and startles him with its unexpectedness. The sudden and unfamiliar feeling makes him feel sick, like he just went upside down on a rollercoaster. Whoever said love felt like butterflies was a liar because it feels a whole lot more like getting punched in the stomach.

The words rise from his throat like bile and linger on the edge of his tongue. Eddie forces himself to swallow them back down again. The unsaid ‘Holy fuck, I love the shit outta you’ tastes far more bitter going down.

“What do I get if I ace it then, huh?” he wonders after an awkward blink of silence.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Your diploma.”

“I meant as a reward, dummy.”

“I feel like graduating high school is enough of a reward.”

“I just think I should be compensated for a job well done, is all,” he proposes with a lopsided grin. The teasing nature of his words drips from his mouth like honey.

You glance at him once, eyes wide and dumbfounded, then back to the road. “Eddie Munson…” you scold in a lighthearted lilt. “Get your head outta the gutter. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

That sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you before. Any other time, you would’ve been all too happy to pull over and jerk him off in a barren parking lot, relieve all his pent-up stress about the exam in the form of a quick handjob. But you’ve been quite obviously keeping your hands to yourself since he told you he was a virgin. 

You were serious about what you said before, about starting over, and Eddie learned that very quickly. You take to giving him tiny little pecks on the cheek and holding his sweaty hand in yours and hardly anything else — like you’re a couple of kids going steady.

Eddie likes it, though, the comforting nature of your unhurried disposition. He just hates the ache it leaves him with.

“It’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “Just so ya know.”

“As long as it helps you pass,” you respond with the shake of your head.

“As long as it helps me pass…” Eddie echoes, quieter. 

“Just think about the biggest kiss I’m gonna give you when I see you again,” you tell him, flashing him a beam as you slow at a stop sign. You trap your smile between your teeth and flash him a glance that can only be described as whimsical — full of shy smiles and fluttering lashes and sparkling eyes. “‘Cause I’m gonna kiss you absolutely stupid, Eddie Munson.”

A rose-colored hue sprinkles along the apples of his cheeks. He never thought a threat could sound so appealing.

“Cool…” is the only thing he could think to mutter in the moment, too busy trying not to smile too wide. He turns his glowing cheeks towards his lap and purses his smile towards his fiddling fingers. “But, uh, I have Hellfire after school, so… Maybe tomorrow?”

You meet his disappointed glance with a shrug. “You could come over after if you want?”

He wants to. He always wants to.

“It’ll probably be late.”

“Then just stay over.”

Your offer comes effortlessly but strikes a deep feeling of complexity within him. Eddie doesn’t know why it makes him so suddenly nervous, only that it makes his palms sweat almost instantly.

The two of you haven’t crossed that threshold yet — of sharing a bed to sleep. He’d catch you dozing on occasion, slouched against his headboard with your head on his shoulder, and he’d wake you. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t want your neck to ache. 

You’d rouse with a groggy apology — “I should probably leave before Bowie starves to death and I drool all over your shoulder,” you’d tell him. 

And it’s not like Eddie wanted you to leave, but he was more than happy to sleep alone. What if he snores obnoxiously loud or he does something gross in his sleep? If you got instantly turned off by some sleeping habit he didn’t even know he had, he thinks it might destroy him.

Eddie can’t control the front he puts up around everyone when he’s sleeping. And for a boy who’s still trying to impress a pretty girl, that’s a very frightening thought.

“Uh, okay… Are you— Are you sure?” he stammers.

His apprehension confuses you. The offer hadn’t felt like that big of a deal to you. “I mean… yeah? We practically did it over the phone last week. It’ll be just like that — but, you know, in person.”

“Right… Okay.”

“I can make us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something,” you propose and grin at the daydream of it all. You wouldn’t have to miss Eddie if he was beside you all night. You wouldn’t have to drift off to thoughts of him either, because he’d be right there. “Bowie would be stoked if you stayed over. She’s practically obsessed with you.”

The thought makes Eddie smile to himself. His heart swells at the idea that other parts of your life have already started to accept him. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and chunky metal rings.

“Her mom is too, right?” he asks you, mostly playful. He smirks all smug, but his cinnamon-tinted gaze gleams with sincerity.

“Oh, obviously,” you scoff without a second thought. “Have you seen her? She can’t get enough of you…” Your teasing lilt and soft smile fades as you squint at him. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

Eddie pinches his thumb and forefinger together, zipping them across his lips, then rolling down the window to toss the imaginary lock out of it. 

Wind whips through the small car with vigor, making a wild halo of Eddie’s already less-than-tamed hair. The intrusion forces you to squint, even more so when you laugh. 

The sound of your giggling is like glitter or sunbeams. It’s as bright as yellow and soft like summer rain. It makes him smile, too, because that’s all he wanted to do in the first place — make you laugh. It’s all he ever wants to do.

Eddie cranks the lever to roll the window back up again as you tell him: “And, you know, if you stayed over, then I could give you that reward we were talking about.” 

You’ve successfully stooped to his level now: head stuck in the very depths of the gutter. Most of your thoughts are innocent, cooking for him and holding him while you slept. Others, not so much.

“And that would be…” he trails off with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you squint at him as you turn the steering wheel to pull into the bustling parking lot of Hawkins High. 

The place is as wretched as it always was. It hasn’t changed a bit, just sort of deteriorated with time. The nameplate on top of the building has started to grey and the tiger mural painted on the bricks is fading, but it’s still the same. The familiarity of it all hits you with an ice-cold pang of nostalgia.

“I would,” Eddie nods a very vigorous nod, all innocent and wide-eyed, as you park on the far side of the lot. “I would very much like to know.”

You lean across the console to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’ll find out later,” you assure him, lingering just ahead of his face. Closer by an inch or two and the tips of your noses would nudge against one another.

“Have mercy…” Eddie murmurs to himself, eyes and limbs suddenly heavy under the weight of his desire for you. 

You made him promise he’d stay sober for the exam — no drinking the night before, no smoking while he got ready. Before now, he’d been perfectly clearheaded. Then you go and look at him with that look, and he’s instantly drunk on you.

He tries to close the distance between you but succeeds only in brushing your noses together before a loud honk blares from ahead of you. It sends the two of you jerking away from each other almost instantly, heads whipping toward the direction of the too loud beep. 

It comes from Steve Harrington’s maroon Beemer that he’d parked just ahead of your Volvo. Him and his friends file out one by one — Robin from the passenger, Dustin Henderson from the back, and then Steve from the driver’s side. 

The former two are beaming, far too happy for it to be so early. Steve looks more like a victim to the morning as he leans against his open car door. His smile looks like a wince and he props his wrist on the door, throwing his fingers up in the place of an actual wave. Dustin and Robin are far more enthusiastic with their gestures.

You and Eddie wave a tad bit awkwardly back at them.

“Look at him,” the boy says, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “King Steve. Carpooling his kids like a real mom.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s a babysitter first and a human being second,” you joke, then more seriously tell him: “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know,” he nods. “But I want to.”

“Okay… I just— I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to, you know, force you or something—”

“It didn’t.”

“—I was just saying it could be nice, you know? But I feel like it sounded like I was being a little pushy.”

“You weren’t.”

“And I don’t want you to be, like, scared to say no to me or something, you know? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings or anything, okay? I promise,” you ramble, partly lying because you know it would hurt a little, but you’d never tell him that. “The ball is totally in your court, so… Whatever you want to do, it’s completely—”

Your nervous blathering is brought to an unexpected halt when Eddie brings his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks in his palms, brushing his thumbs along the apples of them. The sleeves of his leather jacket tickle your chin. He sprayed his wrist with cologne this morning, you can tell; the musky cedarwood and tobacco are more prominent now. 

The boy laughs softly when the suddenness of his action makes your eyes go wide, chuckling louder when he squeezes your cheeks and makes your lips pout softly.

“I wanna come over, okay?” Eddie assures through his laughter. “And you’re never annoying me when you ask. I promise. I’ll probably say yes to just about anything when it’s coming from you, sweetheart.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” you press, words slightly muffled with the way Eddie’s holding your face.

“I’m not just saying that,” he echoes more confidently. He shakes his head at you, then moves your jaw back and forth with his palms so he’s shaking yours too. You jerk away from him with a grin. 

“I’ll see you later?” he asks you while he collects his things from the floor, which is just the little tin box he carries everywhere. He swears it has everything he needs in it. You assume it’s just a dull pencil and a couple of baggies of weed he plans to sell between lunch shifts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile.

He clicks the handle to open the car door, then kicks it open the rest of the way. He rolls his head back and puckers his lips for a kiss. You happily oblige him, meeting him halfway but turning at the last second so his mouth meets your cheek.

“Kids are watching,” you joke at his surprise.

And even though he’d only pecked your jaw, it makes Robin and Steve roll their eyes. “Gag me with a spoon,” the girl gripes as she walks past the hood of your car.

Dustin follows behind her, too preoccupied to care. He’s got an anticipatory grin on his face that reveals the blue and green braces on his teeth. The composition notebook in his hands has the Hellfire logo drawn in red and yellow sharpie on the front of it.

You’ve never met the kid, but he’s exactly how you’d expected him to be.

You heard a lot about him — from Steve mostly, but from Eddie too. Robin has the occasional story about the boy from whenever he visits Family Video. They all call him little shit most of the time, shrimp on occasion, and Dusty Bun when he’s done something particularly sweet.

It’s all from a lighthearted place, though. You figure it must be because Steve Harrington is waking up at seven in the morning to take some fourteen-year-old to school. And Eddie’s even worse — the second Dustin calls asking for a ride, he’s hopping in his van without a second thought.

The boy barely lets Eddie get out of the car before he starts bombarding him with questions about the latest D&D campaign. He prattles on and on about it while they walk towards the school, pointing adamantly at the notebook in his hands. You imagine it’s full of conspiracies and potential ways to beat the Cult of Vecna. 

He’s so invested he doesn’t even care when Robin slips the cap from his hand and flips it backwards.

“Have the best day ever, kiddos!” you shout through your rolled-down car window.

You get a half-hearted wave from Dustin, but he doesn’t even glance at you when he does it. Eddie blows a dramatic kiss your way, but Robin rivals his sweetness with a middle finger and a rouge-tinted smile.

The bell chimes overhead, high-pitched and too familiar. The parking lot empties slowly, and the mindless muddled chatter fades too.

Steve saunters to your car after everyone else heads inside. He folds his arms along the passenger door as he leans down to look at you. 

His hair is un-styled, but in a cool sort of way that only he can pull off. Chestnut strands fall down over his forehead while others are pushed back from where he’s ran his fingers through them. His jaw is dusted with a fine layer of stubble that sprinkles a shadow of a mustache on his cupid’s bow.

You’re both wearing the elements of your uniforms.

He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and the mandatory collared shirt, even though he swears Keith only makes him abide by the dress code. You’re wearing the all black get-up required of all Enzo’s waitresses. The flowy blouse and a-line skirt are now wrinkled from the drive over. You’re only missing your floral apron and Steve his forest green vest.

“How long until your shift starts?” he asks you, voice deep and gruff with the morning.

Your eyes flit down to the flashing clock on your dashboard, then back up to him. “I don’t have to go in until eleven today, but I was gonna see if I could pick up an extra shift.”

He nods and juts out his lips as he turns to squint down the parking lot. He looks back at you with a more hopeful gaze. “Wanna go fuck around at Family Video instead?”

And, of course, by “fuck around,” he means popping popcorn and playing some terrible, terrible slasher film on the television behind the counter that has more boobs and blood than actual plot.

You’ll stop for junk food on the way like you always do and spend the bulk of the movie tossing gummy bears and M&Ms into Steve’s mouth. You’ll waste hours talking about nothing, but it’ll feel like only minutes have gone by when it’s time for your shift.

“Are you kidding?” you scoff like it’s not the best idea you’ve heard all morning. Or maybe second best because Eddie’s proposal of a reward is still swirling around in the confines of your mind. “Of course I do.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

By sunset, Eddie Munson’s got a B-minus on his midterm, a crowd of kids singing his praises, and a date with the hottest woman on the planet. Life, as it turns out, was really starting to look up for the local freak.

“Best… campaign… ever!” Dustin shouts. He’s still so boyishly excited about the whole thing that he has to take in deep breaths before he says each word. 

The emphatic exclamation echoes through the dim, empty hallway of Hawkins High. The rest of the school had left some time ago; all that’s left now are the scraps — the basketball douchebags, the theater geeks, the D&D nerds.

The Hellfire Club gets the entire west wing to themselves, and the unusual vacancy allows them to saunter down the corridor’s length like they own the damn place. 

They don’t have to look over their shoulders for assholes that might trip them or stuff them into lockers. Still bubbling with the after-effects of such an utterly sadistic campaign, they feel like they’re on top of their own little world.

Eddie Munson hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

He spins on the heel of his worn-out sneaker and walks backwards ahead of his friends so he can examine each of their faces. He’d unleashed the whole Vecna lives twist that he’d been keeping in his metaphorical back pocket for some time now.

You were the one that gave him the idea, sprung it out of nowhere during a smoke session so many months ago. It feels like it’s been forever now. That was back when you were just his customer, and he was just your dealer — when all you needed was a little free weed, and Eddie just needed to pass a test.

You both somehow ended up with far more than either of you bargained for, but he’s not complaining. He hopes you aren’t either.

Dustin had sort of predicted Vecna’s resurgence. He’d scribbled it down in his journal with all the rest of his endless conspiracies. Well, actually, he suspected that Kas was still a villain and hadn’t slain Vecna like they thought — which wasn’t exactly right, but it was still pretty damn close. Eddie’s never met someone who cared so much about one of his campaigns.

So, needless to say, the curly-haired boy is beaming. His green-blue braces and pearly whites are on full display, partially from excitement but mostly because he was sort of right — in a vague, roundabout way.

Mike had been enthusiastic about it too, but that was before he had to suffer through his best friend’s endless boasts. His brown eyes roll damn near to the back of his skull as he huffs, angled jaw clenching from gritted teeth.

“Well, when you spend eight hours coming up with, like, a thousand different theories, one of them is gonna be right,” he’d finally groused. 

Dustin only smiled at the lankier boy, totally unfazed by his grumbling. “It’s not my fault you have exactly zero work ethic. You’re just mad you lost.”

“Yeah, because staying up all night writing in your diary makes you a real winner.”

“For the last time, Mike, it’s not a diary!”

Lucas was too far away to join in on the bickering. The boy had been distant for a while now, actually. Eddie joked that he must’ve been upset about missing basketball practice with Carver and the rest of his goons, but Lucas hadn’t laughed as loud as he’d hoped. He only chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and said it was just girl troubles.  

Gareth, meanwhile, is still grumbling about Vecna killing his ranger. Even though Dustin’s bard brought them all back with a resurrection spell in the end, he doesn’t like to lose. Eddie doesn’t blame him, but he’d be lying if he said the angry scrunch contorting his best friend’s features wasn’t hilarious.

Jeff had lost his druid too, but he was a much better sport about the whole thing. He usually is, especially compared to the rest of the club. He’s perhaps the only one who doesn’t treat every loss like the end of the world.

“Well, thank you, Ser Dustin,” Eddie responds in a fanciful sort of accent, bending at the waist in a gracious brow. “But I cannot take all the credit, I’m afraid.”

Dustin’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“He means that his girlfriend helped him put it together,” Jeff lisps.

“No way!” the boy gapes, totally dumbfounded. “The girl from this morning? In the car? She’s… She’s into Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Not really. No,” Eddie shrugs right before flashing a shit-eating grin. “But she is into me, so…”

The less-than-humble brag makes Gareth groan. His sandy curls fall back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, ocean eyes rolling and then fluttering closed. “If I have to hear about your stupid girlfriend one more time…” he’d griped after the first few times Eddie managed to bring you up in every conversation — about a million of them ago now.

His annoyance doesn’t lessen Dustin’s confusion. “I don’t get it…”

“Gareth's just mad because he’s in love with Eddie’s girlfriend,” Jeff clarifies once more, feigning pity as he pats the boy on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying is, I would’ve tried a little harder to get her attention if I knew she was into freaks,” Gareth grieves, a little forlorn and distantly heartbroken, but shrugging it off like he isn’t all that affected by it.

You were a bit like Steve The Hair Harrington in that way. A little like Vicki Carmichael or, god forbid, Billy Hargrove. You’ve garnered a sort of popularity that’s made you into a sideshow attraction that everyone wants to ride — literally.

You’re popular in a much, much different way than Steve or Vicki or Billy. It’s left you acutely fetishized in an extreme sort of fashion, an object of desire for many in disgusting, lurid ways.

It seems Gareth didn’t go unscathed with his lust for you either.

Well, too little too fucking late if Eddie had anything to say about it. But he would never, because that’s his best friend, so he decides to scoff and tell him: “Like she’d be into you anyway.”

“Oh, please. I’m a total catch.”

“Is there anyone she isn’t into?” Jeff chuckles, too kind of heart to realize the mercilessness in his words. “Isn’t that, like, her whole thing.”

A sharp pang of anger strikes like lightning in Eddie’s chest. It’s ice-cold and red hot, a burst of adrenaline that feels like fight or flight. His hands curl into fists before he even realizes it. If it had been anyone else and not one of his best friends, he imagines he might’ve swung before he even thought about what he was doing. 

Before the words to defend you spill like venom from his mouth, another beats him to the punch.

“Hey,” Lucas scolds from a little ways behind the group, making them all turn to look at him. His brows are furrowed slightly, but the rest of his face is contorted in an unreadable way. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of the puke-green letterman he wears over his Hellfire tee. “Leave her alone.”

“How do you…” Eddie starts, then squints past the group, gaze zeroing in on the boy. “Since when do you know my girlfriend, Sinclair?”

“She’s friends with Max. And she’s, like, really nice. So maybe we shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

The boy with the wild hair grins something wilder. His gaze is stern but no less playful when he turns back to Jeff. “You heard the kid. Leave my girlfriend alone, Jeffy.”

When the phrase leaves his mouth, for perhaps the billionth time that day, he realizes how often he must say it. My girlfriend, he says. My girlfriend, my girlfriend — because he can’t get enough of how it sounds.

With a grin on his face and his dream girl on his mind, Eddie spins on his heel again to swing open the double doors of the high school’s exit. The chill smacks him in the face almost immediately.

It’s the strange knick of time in early spring where the days are warm, but the nights are so, so cold. This one isn’t any different. A bitter breeze pounds at his chest, ruffles through his curls, and pierces the fabric of his jacket. Eddie’s body mourns the sudden loss of warmth almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dustin continues to whinge, even though the rest of them have more than moved on. “Does— Does everyone know her but me? Mike, do you know who she is?”

The boy perks up at the mention of his name. He tends to get a little reserved unless he’s bickering or talking bout his girlfriend. The kid’s a complete and utter wreck when he’s been away from her for too long. Eddie used to make fun of him for it. Not so much anymore.

Mike runs a hand through his lengthy raven hair, then scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches. “Uh… not really? I mean, I think she knows El because she knows Hopper, but… I don’t know… No?”

Dustin’s face falls flat at his answer. Or lack thereof.

“Wow. Very enlightening, Mike, as always. Thank you,” he deadpans, then turns back to Eddie. His features go from deadpanned to hopeful: eyes wide, brows raised, lips quirked. “So when are we gonna get to meet her? Do you think she’d do a campaign with us? Holy shit— she could be the fairy! You know, of the Firethorns! I mean, you did just say the campaign was feeling a little empty—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it down a few notches, alright, Dusty Bun?” Eddie chuckles as he slumps a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’t call me that. We talked about this; that name is reserved for Suzie and Suzie only—”

“Didn’t you guys break up?” Mike wonders with a sort of blandness to his tone that only he could pull off.

“Shut up, Mike,” Dustin bites in response.

It was still a bit of a sore subject for the boy who’d just lost the so-called love of his life.

Suzie was a girl he met at summer camp about a year ago. Things were going pretty well until they weren’t. Something about her family being uber-religious and not approving of Dustin’s more agonistic disposition.

She broke up with him over Cerebro and hasn’t been on the channel since. It was cold. Ice cold.

Dustin still hikes up to Weathertop every now and then with nothing but a packed lunch and the hope that she’ll answer. She hasn’t yet.

And Eddie can make a mockery of just about anything — it’s practically a superpower at this point — but he knows when to leave well enough alone. Even the most innocent question can send the boy into a spiral of despair. Even now, he gets so suddenly weighed down by the burden of his sadness; lips turning downward and the insides of his brows curling slightly.

Eddie smiles a sad sort of smile down at the boy, but he’s too busy moping to see it. He pulls him closer with one leather-clad arm and uses the other to pat the boy on the chest. Their feet stumble less than gracefully over one another. 

“Yeah, you’re never gonna meet her…” Eddie says in a mournful sigh.

Dustin blinks up at him, confused and even more hurt than before. “What? Why not?”

“Because she’d obviously like you more than me,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. “And I can’t have anyone taking my girl, Henderson.”

That confuses him even more. He was more prepared for one of Eddie’s stupid quips than something short of a compliment. It takes him by surprise at first, leaves him gaping for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Shut up…”

“I’m serious!” Eddie chuckles, all loud and boisterous. The sound echoes through the vacant lot, made somehow emptier by the cold.

He stops walking suddenly and makes Dustin stop walking too. He takes the boy a tad bit roughly by the shoulders and looks down at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him. 

“I mean, look at you! What’s not to like, huh? You got their hair, the smarts, the personality—”

“And Eddie’s only got one of those things, so you definitely win,” Gareth quips from a few feet behind them.

“Exactly! Suzie was an idiot to let you go, Henderson.”

Dustin winces when Eddie jabs him in the chest. His saddened gaze flits to the pavement for a moment, then back up again. His eyes are brighter now, but still a bit melancholy — sort of like the streetlamp that flickers across the way. A light that’s going out but grasping for reasons to stay burning.

“You think so?”

“I know so, Dusty Bun,” Eddie grins — smiling wider when the kid’s beam falls flat again. He wraps his arm around Dustin’s punier frame. It’s supposed to be a hug, but it looks more like a headlock. “Never change, Dustin Henderson. Never change…”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since he was ten.

Fifth grade. Franklin Kowalski’s place in the suburbs. Trampoline in the front yard, pool in the back, and an assortment of soft drinks in a fridge in the garage. Maybe he remembers it so vividly because it's perhaps one of the more traumatizing experiences a prepubescent boy growing out a buzzcut could go through.

He knew he didn’t belong there — not in the good part of town with a bunch of boys in brand-new tennis shoes. Eddie Munson was trailer park trash, through and through. He wasn’t used to new clothes or two-story houses or underground pools. But he didn’t care where he came from. And neither did Franklin. Not at first, anyway.

The other kids were nice enough to him. They offered him their swim goggles when Eddie didn’t have his own and made sure he wasn’t left out of any of their conversations. It was all in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, though. Their kindness was manufactured, a mask for pre-teen boy cruelty. 

See, they only gave him their goggles so they could laugh when they got tangled in his curls. They only included him in conversation so he could be the punch line to each of their jokes. 

All of it went over Eddie’s head. He was too innocent to realize he wasn’t being treated nicely, he was being taunted. He laughed along with each of their inside jokes because he wanted so desperately to be included, having no idea it was himself he was laughing at.

It took him until two o’clock the next morning to understand. He woke up all alone in the living room and found that everyone else had migrated upstairs without him. They were still awake, still laughing — and Eddie was forgotten in the dark.

He nearly cried when he called Wayne. He wasn’t sure if his tears were from anger or from sadness, but they stung all the same. 

He punched the numbers on the keypad with a clenched jaw to keep from sobbing out loud. His gaze was still blurry with unshed tears. It made it dreadfully hard to see, and what little light spilled from the television — which had turned to static after midnight — didn’t help either.

“It’s three A.M., Eds. You sick?” his uncle gruffed into the landline.

“A little,” Eddie half-lied. He twirled the curly wire around his fingertip until it turned purple. He prayed he didn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Everyone else is asleep… ‘M scared I’m gonna puke everywhere.”

Wayne was there barely fifteen minutes later. He drove his rusted pick-up to the suburbs, found his nephew waiting on the curb, and didn’t ask questions on the drive back to Forest Hills. 

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since.

He’s got a feeling this one will be different, though. Because pre-teen boys are a hell of a different kind and you’re… you. 

He’s pretty sure you couldn’t be mean to him even if you wanted to be. You’re nice, far nicer than he deserves. You’re lovely and sweet and decent — every synonym of the damn word in a thousand different languages. It still floors him that it would ever occur to you to be kind to him. 

Eddie doesn’t feel all that worthy of your sunshine. He happily basks in your golden rays anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s selfish. Or maybe it’s because he’s so damn pale — in both the literal and figurative sense.

Eddie packs his overnight bag without a hint of methodology.

He isn’t totally sure of what to bring as he rifles through his disorganized drawers, so he ends up packing bits of everything. 

He does the sniff test for each of his crumpled-up t-shirts. The one’s that smell the freshest get stuffed to the bottom of his bag. He can’t be sure of how many he’s shoved down there now — three or four, maybe five. It makes it harder for his pants to fit, two of the pajama variety and two of denim. 

He grabs multiples of everything, just to be on the safe side. It takes only minutes for his backpack to fill up. He nearly breaks the zipper trying to fasten it, and still, he worries he hasn’t brought enough.

The bag sits upright on his mattress as Eddie bends down to grab the box of condoms that’s been idling under his bed for a year. The cardboard is coated with a fine layer of dust and time. He holds it between his ringed fingers, debating whether or not to finally break the seal and bring a few — just to be on the safe side. That’s when Wayne walks in.

The man isn’t looking at him. He’s too busy wiping his oil-stained palms on an already-stained rag, but his presence is sudden enough to freak Eddie out. The boy jumps like he’s been caught red-handed, scrabbles for a hiding place almost immediately, making the box sputter out of his grip. The thing falls to the ground with a dramatic thud.

He kicks it back under his bed again.

Wayne’s eyes finally flit up to his nephew’s at all the commotion. His bushy grey brows furrow when he finds him standing upright, hands behind his back, totally not suspicious at all. Raising a teenage boy has taught the man not to comment on what doesn’t concern him, so he keeps on swiping his fingers between the fabric of the grimy rag. 

“I finished looking at your van,” he says, accent deep and husky and not of Indiana origin. “Turns out that noise you were hearin’ was a damn rock in the break line.”

Eddie scoffs, then eyes a stick of deodorant sitting on his dresser. “Wow,” he marvels as he swipes the thing from its place. He stuffs it into the side pocket of his bag. “A measly pebble coulda killed me, huh?”

“Should be good to go now, though.”

“Sweet,” the boy nods.

Eddie squints as his eyes flit around his room, head darting in either direction to make sure he’s got everything. Wayne watches him with an identical squint. “Where you runnin’ off to now? You just got home, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Uh… I’m gonna go see a friend,” Eddie answers, voice trembling and slightly far away. He unzips his bag again to make sure it’s sufficiently filled. He does a little mental checklist: shirts, pants, PJs, shoes— how the hell is he supposed to fit shoes in here?

You’ve only got one pair of shoes, Munson, he reminds himself. Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway? A nature walk?

“Oh, right,” his uncle nods. A smile plays on the edges of his lips, but it weirdly still looks like he’s frowning. “The friend.”

“Yeah— Well, she’s my… She’s my girlfriend, so…”

The admission makes Eddie blush in a way he isn’t typically used to. He can’t count the number of times he must say it in a day, but something about saying it in front of Wayne feels different — real.

He turns his glowing cheeks down to his bag and makes difficult work of zipping it back up again.

Wayne doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. The bright emotion is almost unfamiliar. “Well, shit,” the man’s chuckle sounds from the depths of his chest. “Look at you, Eds. My nephew’s finally got his first girlfriend.”

The boy rolls his chocolate eyes. He jerks under the pressure of the shoulder clap Wayne gives him. It’s equal parts annoying and embarrassing — to be talked to like a child in this way. Maybe because most children have long had their first girlfriends by now, and it took Eddie all of twenty agonizing years.

“We were gonna hang out at her place since I passed my English test and everything...”

The excitement washes from Wayne’s tired eyes. They widen, as though in shock, and reveal more of the glassy whites of them. He just blinks at him for a moment, like his words are still processing. “You… You passed?”

“Yep. Got a B,” Eddie nods, a tad bit sheepishly. He finds it hard to meet his uncle’s mystified gaze. “Well, a B-minus, but… Turns out, I might actually graduate this year.”

Wayne seems to experience every emotion at once. He’s surprised, of course — it makes sense. Eddie spent two years failing the damn thing, after all. Then he’s proud, overjoyed that there’s a chance his nephew might finally grow up. He’s distantly saddened by the exact same thought.

The man swallows thickly, as though to down each emotion. He nods and tries his best to smile. “Damn. Good job, kid. I’m… I’m prouda you.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether to take the praise or cower from it. At a loss, he opts to deflect entirely.

“Yeah, well, she— the friend helped me study and everything, so… I feel like we should probably be thanking her, you know?” he half-jokes as he swings the pack over his shoulder. His winces under the weight of it. “I probably wouldn’t have passed if she didn’t force me to read that stupid book. I mean, it’s 1986; who cares about the roaring twenties and blinking green lights—”

“Hm…” his uncle grunts. It isn’t an acknowledging grunt, though. It’s more of a bemused sort of grunt. And he’s got this quizzical twist to his features that makes Eddie confused too.

“…What is it?”

Wayne only shrugs, trying to act like it was nothing, but can’t help but to ask: “You’re real serious about this girl, aren’t ya?”

Eddie, feeling a bit weighed down by such a heavy question, shifts on his feet.

“Uh… A little bit, I guess. Yeah,” he stammers in the place of an honest answer. If he were being totally truthful, he would’ve said something like, “As serious as a goddamn heart attack.” But that might’ve actually given Uncle Wayne one, so he doesn’t answer with all that.

The man seems to hear all the words Eddie doesn’t say, though. He always does. Eddie figures that’s what happens when you raise a kid for fifteen years — you get attuned to their every thought like a superpower or something. 

It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. Eddie’s never been able to keep a single damn secret from Wayne because he’s a total mind reader. It’s entirely possible Wayne knew Eddie was in love before he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” the man advises. He looks genuinely concerned, eyes glinting and brows pinched, like you’re a treacherous road or poison ivy.

The misplaced cautiousness makes Eddie breathe out a soft laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t play dumb,” Wayne tells him with a gruff chuckle — not totally unkind, just a Munson sort of curt. “You know what I’m talkin’ about. I didn’t even know her real name until you started bringing her around, 'cause all the kids at the shop call her the—”

“Don’t,” Eddie interjects sharply.

The bitterness in his tone is foreign. It contains the sort of venom he’s more like to spit at Jason Carver or Mike Wheeler if he’s being particularly dickish. Never at Wayne.

But that dormant urge to defend you rises like a sleeping dragon that just got poked in the belly. The words rise like bile in his throat and spew out before he can think to stop them.

Uncle Wayne is a weathered man. He’s seen a lot of the world, too much of it, but nothing’s ever quite taken him aback like this. He’s never seen his nephew’s chocolate button eyes hardened into something so cold.

Eddie gets all hyperaware of the heart on his sleeve and starts to crack under the pressure of it. He deflates, stern features crumbling into something softer.

“It’s different, okay?” he assures with his chin brought down to his chest — brows raised and wide eyes twinkling. It’s the same thing you’d said to Hopper not too long ago. Eddie hopes you met the words as wholeheartedly as he does now.

“And even if I explained all the reasons why it’s different, you still wouldn’t get it.”

His melodramatic tone makes Wayne scoff. “What? ‘Cause you don’t think I’ve ever been a kid in love before?”

“No,” Eddie shrugs playfully. “‘Cause you’re old.”

The foreign tension ebbs all at once with a pair of laughs. One is gruff, a couple of sharp exhales more than anything else. The other is a lighter, far more boyish giggle.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, alright?” Wayne tells him once the laughter fades.

“Yeah, I know. You always do,” Eddie lilts with a disposition that might make it seem like he’s displeased by his uncle’s constant pestering. In reality, he knows it’s saved him from a world of shit.

Like that time he wanted to get tacos from a new food truck that gave the whole town food poisoning. Or when he’d wanted to ask Tina Burton, the most popular girl in school, on a date his sophomore year. 

It was Wayne that saved him the embarrassment from either. It’s like he can smell bullshit or something.

“But this is, like, the first good thing that’s happened to me since Ride the Lightning came out… So, I’d kinda like to enjoy this whole thing while it lasts,” Eddie winces like it’s a joke, but he means it more than anything.

Wayne nods understandingly. “Will do, kid. But first girlfriends are always hard, okay? Remember that. Try not to let it hurt you too much, Eds.”

His uncle claps him once, then twice, on his shoulder before swiping away the grime he’d accidentally spotted there. Eddie lets him, too far away to shrug him off. He doesn’t even move when Wayne walks out of his room.

He knows his uncle means well, but something about his cynical words makes his chest burn. It’s like he’s betting on his relationship with you not working out or something. 

And Eddie knows he isn’t wrong. First girlfriends are hard. He’s heard enough shit from his friends to know that. Hell, Mike and Dustin have spent all year complaining about how complicated relationships are. 

But it’s different. 

Because they’re just a couple of kids and their girlfriends aren’t you.

Whatever form you come in, lover or executioner, Eddie’s more than ready to receive you.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You’ve never cooked for anyone other than yourself. And maybe Bowie.

That’s not to say you were a stranger to dining in company. Binging on takeout with Robin and Steve was routine. You’re pretty sure Benny at the diner has made more dinners for the three of you than you’ve ever made for yourselves — combined. 

But it was different, to make something for someone with your own hands. It took a relative amount of care, an acute sort of attentiveness that only felt deserved for someone really special. 

And Eddie was really special and then some.

There isn’t a word that encapsulates all the special he is. It makes you feel a bit guilty sometimes. You wish you were smarter so you could think of a big enough word to describe how much he means to you. But since you aren’t, you stick to making him homemade spaghetti and hope you can pour enough love into it that he feels all of yours.

Eddie arrives at your apartment before you’re ready for him.

You’d wanted to do more with your appearance by the time he came around — with your hair and your makeup and your clothes. Not because you ever had to, but because you thought Eddie deserved a girl who took extra care of herself in that way.

You got a shower in before you started cooking, but that was it. Your hair is unstyled and air-drying; your face bare and glistening in all its naked glory.

Clad in nothing but a hilariously oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, you look more ready for bed than date night.

The knock at your door sends you into a momentary whirlwind. You scramble like someone’s seconds away from catching you naked — like there are four different fires in every direction and you don’t know which one to put out first. The panic is elaborate and fleeting, a bucket of ice-cold water on bare skin.

You figure that’s another part of caring about someone. You make them spaghetti because you love them and get nervous when things aren’t perfect. Love is all things stressful and homemade.

Eddie knocks on your door with several rhythmic raps. They’re evenly timed and spaced out. You recognize the bass line to ‘Crazy Train’ almost immediately. Da-da… Da-da, da-da, da-da. He must’ve been listening to it on the way over.

“Uh, come in!” you waver after an awkward beat. You’re yelling a little because you’re still standing at the stove, stirring the pot of noodles.

The door clicks once when it opens, then again when it shuts. The wall that separates the kitchen conceals your view of him, but you can hear Eddie’s shuffling in the living room from where you are because he’s never done anything quietly in his life.

Eddie toes off his sneakers before he heads into your apartment. You never asked him to do it, so it always confused you as to why. He’d told you, when you asked, that he knows he’s not the cleanest and that he cares too much about your space to make a mess of it. 

He tells you he can’t take care of you in the way he would like — that if he had it his way, you’d never have to work at Enzo’s again; that he wishes he was rich enough so you never had to wait on snobby stay-at-home moms or misogynistic businessmen. But since he isn’t a rockstar yet and The Hideout pays their busboy’s fuck all, Eddie figures the least he can do is not leave shoe prints on your carpet.

It’s boyish and strangely profound and so, so sweet.

He drops his backpack and leaves his sneakers by the doormat like he always does. They fit neatly between the wall and the roughly textured rectangle that reads ‘glad you’re here’ on the front of it. One is upright, the other falls to its side.

Bowie blinks at him from where she idles on her perch, green eyes wide and pupils set in narrow slits. “Hey, pretty girl,” Eddie greets in a quiet coo, scooping her up in his arms. Despite her round belly, the calico weighs no more than a feather. 

She meows once after being so suddenly plucked from her flower petal spot but settles into him instantly. He scratches at her chin to make her purr and revels in the soft buzzing sound she makes. Eddie waltzes into the kitchen with her, cradling her against his chest like a newborn baby.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of them — at your two favorite beings on the planet, so obviously taken with one another. Bowie lolls in Eddie’s arm like he’s made of clouds and cotton candy. Her blinks are slow and lazy, her purrs audible to even you. She’s only this affectionate for him. You can’t even blame her. 

“Smells good in here,” the boy compliments trying his best not to blush at the wide smile you give him. He’s still not used to being looked at so tenderly. 

Failing to feel deserving of it all, he averts his chocolate gaze and flushed cheeks to the counter, where he plops Bowie down beside her half-empty food bowl.

You could only get her to eat so much of it before she got annoyed with you. Now she laps happily at the chunk of cat food like it’s the first time she’s ever tasted its goodness.

“Thanks,” you respond with a slight tremble to the edge of your voice. You turn back to the pot of spaghetti you’ve been stirring for close to ten minutes, eyeing the mixture of noodles and sauce and beef with intent because you need it all to be perfect. “I probably should’ve asked what you liked before you left this morning, but I only know how to make spaghetti, so… I made spaghetti.”

You look back at him, flashing the boy a nervous tight-lipped smile. It makes him grin, too, as he makes the terribly short trek over to you.

“Well, I actually love spaghetti,” he confesses, and it isn’t totally a lie. He just stopped caring for it around the millionth time Wayne made it because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook too. 

Eddie lingers at your side, hip pressing into the counter, radiating warmth like a sun stuck in human form. You can’t tell if he’s toasty in his leather jacket or if you’re just cozy in the honey-coated tenderness you have for him. You don’t even realize you’re smiling at him when he scrunches his nose at you. 

“You should be careful, sweetheart. I’m kinda starting to think we’re soulmates.”

“That’s crazy,” you marvel, wide-eyed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Wow… We really were made for each other, huh?” he huffs with a similar sarcasm.

You try to keep the joke going, but it’s hard not to smile when you feel his hands creep around your sides. His fingers are soft on your waist, featherlight and a little unsure as he slithers along your back. The affection feels foreign on your skin. You bite back a shiver.

“Looks like way,” you affirm with a nod, tilting your head back so you can meet him halfway when he leans down to peck you.

It’s a soft and swift little thing, a brief brush of the lips that doesn’t mean anything but also the entire world. He kisses you just to kiss you — because he likes the feel of you or because it’s the sort of thing he can do now as your boyfriend. Either way, you revel in the unfamiliarity.

“Did the, uh… Did the test go okay?” you ask once he parts from you. You try not to sound like you’ve been agonizing over it all day and more like the thought had only just crossed your mind.

Eddie bites back a smile as he turns to walk to the opposite side of the counter. He makes sure any traces of the smirk have washed away when he hops onto the edge of it.  The forlorn look he gives you is manufactured, all pinched browed and gloomy eyed. 

“Um, no…” he fibs. “I, uh— I failed it again.”

You eye him from over your shoulder and notice how he shifts on his weight, looking down at the tile rather than up at you. It doesn’t cross your mind once that he might be joking. You just hope the flash of disappointment on your features was too quick for him to catch.

“That’s okay,” you assure and cover your chagrin with a smile. You shake your head and shrug. “We just try again, right? Not the end of the world.”

A grin tugs slow at Eddie’s lips. It’s bemused slightly and still sort of sad. He can’t believe how supportive you are of him even after he’s just told you outright that he’s failed — still loving even when he’s not good enough.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of stapled-together papers. It’s perhaps the first piece of schoolwork given to him that wasn’t immediately thrown away. He’d folded it twice in half, then tucked it safely away with the intent to show you later. He unfolds it again to marvel at it once more.

The letter grade is written in red and circled twice. Ms. O’Donnell’s fancy cursive is scribbled just beside it — “Finally! Good job, Eddie! I’m very proud of you!” Even though the boy has never been particularly fond of the woman, her compliment makes his chest swell.

“Oh, shit…” he murmurs under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Hm?” you hum back in response. You don’t look at him, though, more focused on not burning yourself as you pull a tray of golden brown garlic bread out of the oven.

“I read it wrong…” he answers, feigning surprise. “This isn’t an F. It’s a B.”

The pan clatters to the stove when you spin around the face him. Your eyes are wide and your brows are raised, each of your features agape with shock. You’re not entirely sure how he could’ve misread it, but you’re prepared to celebrate with him anyway. 

Eddie flashes you a pink, lopsided smile as he flips the creased paper around. He puts the grade on display for you with a knowing, mischievous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He’s too pretty and you’re too proud of him — you can’t even care that he was tricking you.

“Oh, my god, Eddie!” you shout with a bubbly laugh, all but launching yourself at him. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where he sits on the counter. The bottom of your stomach digs into the granite as your arms wrap around his neck. 

You don’t realize until you’ve locked him in this embrace that you’ve still got your oven mitt on.

Eddie bends awkwardly to reciprocate the hug, meeting you halfway so you’re not doing all the work.

One hand keeps hold of his midterm, but the palm of his free one spreads wide and warm along your back. The tops of your chests collide, soft and snug. They press together in such a way that it confuses him how he could’ve gone so long without feeling you like this — even in the most innocent way.

His chin settles along your clothed collarbone. With his nose digging into the cotton of your t-shirt, he inhales to find your warm floral scent. Eddies sighs and relaxes against you without thinking. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever hugged him like this before.

“I’m so proud of you!” you praise, chin bopping on his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Eddie chuckles softly at the severity of your hug, so full of intent — louder when you peck him on his cheek and then the rest of his face when you realize you can’t just kiss him once. His stubble is rough against the plush of your lips as you press them to his jaw and chin and nose and mouth.

He tries to kiss you back, but he’s smiling too wide.

He’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten this much loving over a B-minus.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” Eddie insists.

“No, it’s because you’re smart.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” he retorts with the shake of his head, too damn stubborn to take a compliment.

His chin pulls closer to his neck when he parts from you. Your noses are barely inches apart, lips so close he can taste them. He could kiss you if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at you.

“I’m pretty sure I only passed because I was thinking about you the whole time...” 

His words trail off. He’s got a crooked smirk on his lips like he’s only teasing, but brings his ear to his shoulder and gazes at you that way — so full of love and mischief. You think he might actually be sincere.

“Eddie Munson…” you scold at his suggestive tone. 

A smile dances on the corners of your lips as you pull back from him completely. You finally slip the mitten off your hand as you return to the stove, clicking the knob on the back panel until it turns off again.

“I just hope you’ve been thinking about that reward,” the boy lilts as he slips off the counter. He grins and walks until he’s leaning on the refrigerator beside you. He’s no more than a couple of feet away, but he somehow feels much closer than that. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we agreed that I’d get something if I passed…”

Eddie’s only teasing. He doesn’t actually want anything. Spending time with you now is enough. Making you blush was just a bonus. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, though, far more times than he’d like to admit. 

And truth be told, you had thought about it, too. But that makes it sound too simple. It plagued you, really. First, it was the “oh god, what if he doesn’t pass,” and then the “what the hell am I supposed to do when he does?”

A passing grade isn’t usually that big of a deal. You’ve certainly never received anything from one. But passing a test after failing it the first two times and having to suffer two more agonizing years of school because of it certainly deserved to be celebrated.

Eddie was strange, though. He wasn’t materialistic or overtly enthusiastic about anything other than music and D&D. Maybe if you had more money, you could’ve gotten him a cassette or a new Dungeon Master’s manual. But thanks to Enzo’s salary, you’re lucky if you’re able to pay bills on time. And it sucks because Eddie deserves nice things, and not just for passing some stupid test. 

You hate that you don’t have anything other than spaghetti and adoration to give him.

It’s not fair to either of you.

You’d lamented to Steve about all this over gummy bears and buttered popcorn as Slumber Party Massacre played on the tiny television above the counter. The film was ripe with blood and random nudity, but you hadn’t fully paid attention to a single scene. You don’t think Steve had either because he was too busy trying to fuse two different halves of gummy bears together.

“Okay, you just passed a test you failed two times in a row,” you tell the boy, painting him a picture of your dilemma. “Your girlfriend wants to do something nice for you, but she’s boring and poor. What would you want?” 

“A blowjob,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His brows scrunch together like the answer was far easier than you made it out to be. He shrugs and squishes the strawberry head of one gummy bear onto the blue raspberry bottom of another. “Obviously.”

You didn’t think the answer was so obvious. Especially not when you’re trying to take things slow. It wasn’t an easy feat either — not with Eddie at your place, looking at you with that look. His features drip with honey as rose petal spill from his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to tease you. 

He’s got no idea he’s quite literally dealing with the master of teasing.

“We’ll see how tonight goes,” you tell him, flashing him an arched brow and a knowing smirk as you drag two of your fancy, ten-dollar porcelain plates from the cabinet. “Only if you’re good for me, yeah?”

Eddie quite literally forgets how to speak.

Like, if you’d asked him a question, the only thing that would spill out would be unintelligible murmurs of made-up words. 

His brain turns to mush with the look you give him — a two can play at this game kind of smirk that makes his mind melt. And your words are so effortless, so smooth, like you know just what to say and exactly how to say it to work him like a wind-up toy.

He’s in way over his head. The realization makes his breath hitch.

All he can do is nod like an idiot and let you fix him a plate of your “finest batch of spaghetti.” That’s what you call it, and he figures you must be right because you lay an entire three-course meal out in front of him. Well, it isn’t quite that extensive, but it feels that way.

Plates of pasta, a bowl of salad, and stacks of garlic bread decorate your small square dining table. Eddie almost feels like he’s at Enzo’s, even though there’s never been a world where he’s been able to afford Enzo’s.

You wine and dine him like the finest of them. Even though it’s nothing more than homemade spaghetti and apple juice in wine glasses, it makes him feel special — the kind of special people spend hundreds of dollars to feel. But he gets you for free and fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He got so damn lucky with you. 

He’s done trying to figure out why. He just wants to be more grateful for it.

Once he’s pleasantly full on a home-cooked meal, you usher him to the bathroom. There’s a bag full of stuff waiting there for him — toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash — all the essential shit that he’d forgotten all about. It makes his chest ache.

It’s less so that you knew he’d forget and more so that you thought about him at all.

Eddie imagines you getting off work, still in your Enzo’s-appropriate skirt and blouse uniform, scanning the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy for things you think Eddie might need.

It’s mundane, but so beautiful still — to be remembered in the most minuscule of ways.

“—I didn’t know what to get you, and I couldn’t afford a lot, so I just got you that 3-in-1 stuff,” you ramble as you pull the dark green bottle out of the brown paper bag on the counter. You wave it mindlessly in your hand. “I don’t know, it was affordable, and you seem like the kind of guy who might use this sort of stuff, so—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie chuckles, trying to act like he doesn’t have an off-brand bottle of the stuff sitting in his shower back at the trailer.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a giggle of your own. You shrug and sit the thing back down. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want.  I just wanted you to have some stuff here so it could, you know, feel more like home…”

Your words strike something profound in Eddie’s chest, a lightning strike or a punch to the stomach. In that moment, he comes to the realization that home isn’t a place. It’s not four walls or the little trinkets that fill it. The people that make you feel all warm and cozy inside, the people that make you feel like you have a place in the world — that’s home.

It’s Wayne and it’s Hellfire and it’s you.

So it’s easy for Eddie to feel at home in your little apartment, and not just because you bought a bunch of stuff to make it that way. 

He’s warmed by the hot shower and the thought that you’re waiting for him in your bedroom down the hall. The idea that he gets this night and so many others you with makes him feel all giddy — like he’s ten years old again and no sleepover has ever traumatized him.

Eddie uses everything you bought, still a little dizzied that it’s for him, but opts to use your vanilla body wash. It’s sweet smelling, with hints of deep musk and high lavender.

The scent of it on his own skin makes him feel like you’re on him and all over him. He has to flip the hot water to freezing before he steps out of the shower. Because, sure, he’s been less than shy about how much he likes you, but walking into your room with a hard-on is a bit more forward than he’s used to.

Eddie finds you waiting for him in your bed. You’re idling at the very center of it, knees up to your chest and back against the headboard, like you’ve been waiting for his return to get truly comfortable there.

You smile when you see him again. It’s that same grin you always look at him with, as though every time you see him is the first time.

He brings an air of cleanliness in with him. He's dressed in fresh pajamas, curls damp and still drying. Steam radiates off his skin along with the scent of freshly baked cookies and flower petals. It’s familiar to you because it’s yours, but it’s different on Eddie in a way you can’t describe.

“You smell good,” you compliment as he maneuvers through the velvet darkness of your bedroom. The black night is evaded only by your dim yellow lamp and the streams of orange that filter through your curtains from the streetlamps outside.

Eddie scoffs as he climbs onto your queen-sized bed. “Did I smell bad before?”

“No. You just smell sweet now. Like a milkshake.”

You shift to make room for him, pulling back your green gingham comforter so he can slip in beside you. Even though you’ve given him ample room to sit down, there isn’t any hint of distance between you. You keep yourself intently pressed to his side despite the several inches of space next to you.

Eddie hopes you never realize there’s a whole world of other places you could be than right next to him. He doesn’t ever want to see a day where you’re separated by more than an inch or two. 

“A milkshake, huh?” he echos as he leans back against the slatted headboard and all your pillows. You twist until you’re practically on your side — hip digging into the mattress, shoulder propped along the cushions, chest pressed against his arm.

“Yeah. Like whipped cream or… vanilla cake…” you trail off, quickly losing interest in describing the scent of him when you’re staring the pretty boy in the face.

One half of him is bathed in shades of golden orange, the other half coated in a deep, deep navy. Eddie’s eyes are somehow darker than any night sky. They swim with their own galaxies and stars that twinkle back at you.

He looks at you and all words lose meaning.

“Yeah, I’m totally stealing your soap before I leave,” he jokes.

You shake your head at him, but smile anyway. “Thanks for letting me know, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Just like all the times before, neither of you realize you’re kissing until you already are. The gravitational pull that brings the two of you together is effortless and natural. You’re like the moon and Eddie’s like the tide — you drag him to you without trying and he bends to your every whim.

Kissing him is easy. It’s like breathing. You don’t ever have to think about it, you just do it. 

You press your lips against the rosy plush of his, and it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It’s an atmosphere kissed by the sun and the trees and the morning dew. It fills your lungs with a new life, makes it impossible to quit kissing him.

But when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, when his mouth pries yours open to slip the pink muscle inside — that feels like getting the breath knocked out of you. The rough pattern of his tongue slides against your own, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Your lungs stop working, your chest aches, and there’s nothing you can do about it but let the moment pass.

Eddie keeps kissing you soft, though, coaxing fresh air back into your burning lungs. He helps you breathe normally again.

You move together like entwining summer breezes. Your thigh swipes against his lap and his hands find your hips to help guide you the rest of the way over. He’s halfway lying down now and you’re looming like an unconquerable mountain above him. Your back arches like a cat’s and your palms cradle his jaw while your tongue makes uncharted territory of his mouth.

The warmth lingering between your thighs presses into his lower stomach. It makes his grip on you tighten, hands pulling your hips further against him until he hears you moan.

The pressure of your clothed pussy against the pudge of his stomach brings you a distant pleasure. What really does you in is the thought of what little separates you — just the fabric of your cotton underwear and Eddie’s faded grey Tatcher Tire t-shirt.

But it’s hard to be indulgent when you’re so stuck in your head. Your mouth moves with Eddie’s on autopilot while your mind travels elsewhere. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you — it’s supposed to be about Eddie. You want to make him feel good for a change, but you have no idea how to go about it.

The foreignness is strange. It leaves you fumbling like you’ve never done any of this before.

In a way, you haven’t. Eddie is different from any guy you’ve ever been with. Not just because he cares about you, but because you’re practically the only girl he’s ever cared about in this way.

He’s a blank slate and you’re scribbled all over.

You don’t want to taint the pristine image he’s painted of you.

“Hey, Eds,” you murmur. The words are halfway spoken against his mouth because you don’t pull away in time to say them clearly. 

Your tongue darts out to feel how numb your spit-slicked lips have gotten after being kissed so ardently. You know they’re probably swollen and more vibrant in their color now. Eddie’s a lot of the same, mouth rosy and obviously kissed.

“Hm?” the boy hums back.

“Do you wanna… Do you wanna do something else?” you ask him, all slow because you don’t want to say the wrong thing. His brows furrow beneath the thin curtain of his curly bangs. The silent question eggs you on. “Would it be okay if I gave you a blowjob?”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment. He swears he goes blind because he doesn’t typically see white when he blinks. The question isn’t the weirdest for a guy in this predicament — with a pretty girl on his lap with his spit staining her mouth. It just catches him a little off guard.

“Would it be…” he tries to echo but trails off with a breathy laugh. You say it like it wouldn’t be perfect — to have you between his legs with your warm mouth on his cock, looking effortlessly beautiful while you swallow him whole. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that… I’d be a total idiot to say no,” he manages to stammer out, though words have long lost meaning by now.

The sight of his glazed-over eyes, warmed cheeks, and pink mouth makes you smile. He always looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen — like you're the infiniteness of space or a deep, deep ocean — something profound he desperately wants to discover.

“I feel like you deserve it, right?” you squint down at him, partially teasing. “For a job well done, you know?”

Eddie nods until he finds the words to respond. “Yeah… Right. Totally.”

“Do you wanna lie down? Or would you rather me get on my knees?” you ask him.

Eddie swears he’s dreaming. He isn’t quite sure how you manage to say something so sinful with such sincerity.

“It might be comfortable to stay like this, but most guys like the visual of girls on their knees better so…” 

There is no seductive lilt to your voice, no mischievous teasing to rile him up. It’s just a question of how he wants you, and it’s a very dizzying thought. Knowing he can have you however he wants makes his stomach all whirly and his vision start to swim like he just spun around ten times.

Eddie just blinks at you. His chocolate eyes and heavy lids flutter slowly like he’s trying to look at you through a layer of honey.

It takes him a second to answer because he doesn’t know what he wants — he rarely ever does, but now especially. How is a boy who wants you in every way imaginable supposed to pick only one?

“Uh, can you—” he starts before the words get caught in his throat. He grunts out a cough to clear it. “Could you, um… get on your, uh— your knees? Please?” 

You smile at how politely he phrases it. You don’t think anyone’s ever said please when asking you for a blowjob before.

Eddie fidgets awkwardly beneath you, and you’re not entirely sure why. You’re the one that just offered yourself up on a platter, totally and unequivocally happy to do whatever he wants. He’s not the one that should be embarrassed.

You nod down at him, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure. You can stay sitting if you want. Whatever you wanna do.”

“Okay…” Eddie mumbles in response.

He watches you with wide, inquisitive eyes as you maneuver off his lap and onto the rug beside your bed. When he swings his legs over the edge of it, you settle intently between them. His cock twitches at the sight of you below him, blinking up at him with sparkling eyes that almost look like they’re begging.

Your palms settle on his clothed thighs as your knees press into the woolen rug beneath you. Your chest warms when you’re finally level with his concealed cock. It makes your heart go silly, the sheer thought of what you’re about to do. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to suck dick before.

You wait patiently for him to make the first move — then you realize he doesn’t know how because he’s never had to before. Instead, he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. With button eyes intently focused on your form and hands anxiously gripping the edge of the bed, he’s entirely prepared to move however you want him to.

“Take off your shirt, Eds,” you guide gently.

He listens to you without thinking twice. His fidgeting fingers reach for the fraying hem of his shirt to yank it up and over his head. He has to tug harder when the neck gets caught around his chin.

It isn’t the first time he’s been shirtless in front of you. Between changing and heated kisses, he’s had ample opportunity to get over his lingering insecurities.

For a while there, he found himself comparing his body to all your other more prominent escapades — the Billy Hargroves and the Steve Harringtons. The overtly masculine types with bodies that scream, ‘I peaked in high school.’

Eddie doesn’t look like them. He isn’t as toned or as thin. He’s got pudge on his belly and sparse hair on his sternum in the place of defined abs and pecks covered in layers of chest hair. He doesn’t look at all like those basketball douchebags that could easily model for whatever magazine basketball douchebags read — if they even know how to, that is.

But you don’t seem to care. You love on him anyway.

Even now, your eyes rake over his bare upper half with a gaze that isn’t anything short of hungry. You reach for his face to pull him down for a ravenous kiss that does little to quell your appetite. Your fingers tangle in the drying strands of his hair in the same way your tongues do. 

Eddie’s patient hands curl around the insides of your elbow as he keeps his lips obediently parted for you. He sighs into each of your eager kisses, more than content to let you swallow him whole.

You move down to his jaw and then to his neck. You nose his curls out of the way to sprinkle wet pecks to the warm skin there. You somehow manage to take your time and move with haste all at once — loving on all the places that need loving, but not lingering in one place for too long because there are too many of them to count.

The tip of your nose trails down his milky torso in time with your craving kisses. You press a final one between his ribcage, tongue darting out briefly just so you can hear his breath tremble before pulling away entirely. 

Eddie’s hands remain on each of your arms as your fingers curl around the hem of his plaid pajama pants. It makes his grip unknowingly tighten.

“Wait,” he blurts with his eyes squeezed shut. You tense almost instantly. “Can you— I mean, can we, just… you know…” he trails off, voice tight like he’s holding his breath. It’s probably because he is.

“What?” you pry with wide eyes and the sick feeling like you’ve done something horribly wrong. “Is this… Is this not okay? We don’t have to, like, do any of this if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion, Eds. We can just—”

“No!” he exclaims, eyes flying open to find your panicked ones. He shakes his wild head so vigorously down at you it makes his curls sway. He both wants to quell your worry and plead for you not to stop. “That’s not it. I— I want to, okay? I do. I really… really do. I just… You’re so far away like this…”

His words drip with a soft sincerity, his honeyed eyes even more so.

Your alarm curls into a gentle smile at his reassurance.

You haven’t had many firsts in a long, long time. Your first kiss was on the playground of Hawkins Middle. Your first handjob was in the locker room of the community pool not too long after. Your first time having sex was on a towel in the grass beside Tina Burton’s pool after her birthday party when everyone else had gone to bed.

All your stereotypical firsts happened lifetimes ago, but you’ve had a billion more with Eddie.

You can say with more confidence than you’ve ever had in your life that this is the first time a guy’s turned down a blowjob because you were too far away on your knees. 

“What?” the boy wavers at your silence. Your accompanying smile is somehow more frightening.

“Nothing,” you assure. Your brows pinch together as you smile up at him. “I just… I really don’t think we can be any closer than your dick in my mouth, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. His cheeks go rosy at your quip. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I know what you mean.”

You rise again, this time planting yourself on his thigh. Your knees settle on either side of his leg and dig into the mattress below you, on top of him all over again. The position is a familiar one. The only thing different is a few months’ time and a lack of Fast Times playing in the background.

Eddie tilts his chin to peer up at you. It’s easier this way, he realizes, to be below you and at your mercy rather than above you. Sometimes he thinks you were made to be on top of him like this.

“How about this,” you lilt with a raised brow. “I can just jerk you off—”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie nods.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Let me finish, you weirdo. I can jerk you off, and you can just tell me when you’re about to finish.”

“Okay,” he answers right before his brows furrow. “Uh… why?”

“So you can come in my mouth,” you shrug like it’s obvious.

Your words knock the wind from Eddie’s lungs — it’s like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. Staring up at you through drooping eyelids, he swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s sounds… Yeah…”

You breathe out a laugh and lean closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. You couldn’t help yourself — he’s too damn adorable. Your fingers curl back around the hem of his pants and boxers, dragging them both down in one fell swoop to free his half-hard cock. You tuck the tops of them under his balls.

You’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time — long ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones — you could make a damn nursery rhyme of the variety you’ve seen. Eddie’s doesn’t particularly stand out.

It’s middling in length and in girth, not big but not too small either, with a width that won’t hurt to take but will stretch you out nonetheless. 

His cock is pale and a faint strawberry red at the tip. It’s the same rosy color his cheeks get when he blushes. There’s a vein that trails up from his balls and splits like a forking river up to his bulbous head. The bush at his pubic bone is fitting for a metalhead, but it looks like he’s taken a trimmer to the chestnut hair there sometime in the past month or so.

His dick isn’t ugly and it isn’t special, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s his.

“You’ve got a really pretty cock, Eds,” you praise in a low whisper.

He thinks you must be trying to talk dirty, but your gaze gets all shy — quirked brow, curled lip, twinkled eye — like you must really mean it. You seal your compliment with a soft, lingering peck.

“Can dicks be pretty?” he asks you, the question muffled against your mouth.

“Not usually,” you blurt before you realize.

Most guys are gross. They don’t shave because they don’t think they have to. Sometimes they smell bad, too, because they never really learned how to wash themselves. Either that, or they taste overtly of soap because they shoved a whole bar of the stuff down their pants right before.

Boys tend to care less about the situation their cocks are in. Only a handful you’ve been with really knew how to take care of themselves — Eddie for one, Steve for another, and Billy Hargrove on occasion.

“But your’s definitely is,” you promise.

“Um… thanks?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question; he just never thought that exact string of words would ever be spoken to him.

It’s a little bit surreal to receive a compliment on a part of you that most people wouldn’t typically notice — like your shoulders or lips or thighs. Eddie’s almost sure you’ve complimented each of those at some point or another.

You kiss him again, both because he makes it insanely hard not to and because you know that’s the only way to get him out of his head. He’ll never get hard if he’s worried about getting hard. So you keep kissing him, letting him focus on the pattern of your tastebuds and the curves of your cupid’s bow, while you happily do all the work.

Your fingertips trail up and down the underside of his cock. Your caresses are featherlight and meticulous along his warm, stiffening skin, all but coaxing him hard. 

When his cock is totally stiff and standing at attention at his stomach, you part from Eddie to bring your palm to your mouth. You spit a glob of saliva onto the center of it and let the added lubricant help your fist glide along his dick.

A stifled groan rumbles in Eddie’s throat as your fingers wrap fully around him. You’re only touching his cock, but it feels like you’ve embraced every inch of them.

The pleasure feels like static, like he’s just rubbed his socks along the carpet and he’s sizzling with the newfound electricity. He feels it in the tips of his toes and in the strands of his hair.

“Um, just to, uh… save myself the embarrassment,” Eddie cautions shakily. His voice is a few octaves higher than normal and audibly fragile. “I should probably urge you to lower your expectations—” He has to stifle a whine when you squeeze the base of his cock. “—Just a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m probably gonna come, like, really, really quickly,” he tells you and tries his best to laugh. It’s as shaky as the smile he gives you because you haven’t stopped touching him, even despite his warning. 

Your fist squeezes his cock, then rises again. You pause momentarily to swipe your thumb over his leaking tip before sliding back down again. It’s a slow and methodical cycle that’s going to make him burst far quicker than he’d like.

“That’s okay,” you assure with the shake of your head, brows furrowed because you don’t know why that’s such a band thing. You shrug. “Just means there’s more time for me to make you do it again.”

Eddie huffs out a sigh as his cock twitches in your fist, growing somehow harder at your words.

Your unhurried pace hastens in a way that’s still obviously disciplined. Your hand moves faster until you hear his breath start to race and see his milky white chest splotch with red. Then, when his rapid pants begin to tremble, your pace goes back to normal.

You push him to the very edge of the cliff and then pull him backward before he falls.

It’d be agonizing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His eyes have long fluttered shut by now. You miss his chocolate syrup irises, but the look of pure serenity on his face is the kind of beautiful most people pay to see. His agape mouth, bared neck, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that tickle the apples of them deserve to be hung in the Louvre. 

It’s a sort of heavenly that everyone needs to admire in their lifetime, but one that belongs to only you. The sheer thought of someone else having him this way makes you angry, sparks raging orange embers just behind your sternum.

Eddie grows quiet. Suspiciously so. He isn’t moaning as much as he was before, and his chest is totally still, as though he were holding his breath. You feel his gentle grip on the outsides of your thighs start to harden. You figure the added tension helps him stay hushed. It’s less so accidental and more like he’s trying not to make noise.

“Let me hear you, Eds,” you urge in a whisper. “It’s okay. Go ahead and whine for me.”

The assurance barely spills from your mouth before he’s moaning for you. It’s a long, drawn-out whine that travels from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth, concluding in a fragile sigh.

The sound makes you double your efforts. You want him to make that noise again — you never want him to stop making that noise for you. So you squeeze harder, rise faster, and pay more attention to his rapidly reddening tip. 

You’re not entirely sure what Eddie likes the most. Most guys moan louder when you do something they like, but he seems to like all of it, so you don’t pay extra attention to one place. You keep jerking his cock, faster still, even when the muscles of your forearm start to burn.

“Fuck—” the boy sighs in a heavy moan, then cuts himself off with a pitiful whine.

He tries to lift his head and open his eyes to look at you, but he doesn’t have the strength to anymore. His head lolls back again when the pleasure begins to crescendo.

Sufficiently stupid, he can’t even find the words to warn you. “I’m— I’m close, sweetheart,” he slurs lowly. “I’m… Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His face screws up, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, as the feeling becomes almost unbearable. It’s all the warning you need.

Your fist holds onto the base of his cock as you dismantle his thigh and settle on the rug again. You don’t think twice before darting forward to lick the dribbles of pearly-white pre-come spilling from his reddened tip.

You wrap your lips around him totally, cheeks hollowing as you suck him there like he’s a piece of candy.

And Eddie dies. He passes away on the spot.

It’s the only way he can describe the feeling.

The crescendo of pleasure — that’s the life flashing before his eyes. The brief moment of numbness is the infinite void of death. The burst of ecstasy that spits from his cock in one, two, three loads is heaven.

It just has to be.

There can’t be a higher pleasure than the feeling of your mouth on his cock and the way you moan around him when his come spills on your tongue.

Eddie whines something pitiful. He loses all the previous inhibition that kept him so quiet he was too scared to breathe. One hand twists in the sheets while the other settles on the back of your hand, not pulling or tugging, just resting there as his hips buck off the mattress. He can’t tell if he’s running away from the intensity of his pleasure or if he never wants it to stop.

You don’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know.

You let his hips jerk wildly even when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and makes you gag. It does take everything in you not to laugh, however, when Eddie murmurs a fragile “sorry” through his cries.

And when his fingers knot in your hair, you don’t mind that either. You let him halfway fuck your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure he’s too far gone to notice that he’s fucking your mouth.

You don’t stop until he’s shuddering. Only when you’re sure he has nothing left to give you do you finally pull away from him. You leave a delicate kiss to the tip of his softening cock, no longer the angry red color it was moments ago. Eddie’s stomach clenches at the feeling of blatant sensitivity. His face scrunches as another feeble cry gets trapped in his throat.

You snap his boxers and pants back into place on his waist and rise.

“How was that for your first blowjob?” you ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eddie just shakes his head in response. He flops back against the mattress, the springs bouncing under his weight, and tries to find the words to answer you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he just saw Heaven and Hell at the same time and that you were both God and the Devil. There isn’t any string of words in any language that could explain the otherworldly pleasure you gave him with nothing more than your hand and mouth, so he decides to stay quiet.

With his eyes still closed, he can hear you laughing quietly at him while you slither in at his side. You lie beside him on your stomach. When you’re finally in reach again, he peeks his eyes open and reaches for you, pulling you toward him for a searing kiss.

You think it might be the first time he’s ever done so without asking awkwardly first — as though there was a world where you would ever turn him down. He seems to understand that now, the way he kisses you without thinking twice about it.

His tongue swipes into your mouth. The both of you moan when he tastes the salty tang lingering there. Eddie doesn’t even realize that it’s him he’s tasting at first — that the heady bitter-sweetness on your tongue is his come.

It’s less so that he’s tasting himself, and more so that his taste is in your mouth at all, that makes him exhale a moan against you. The heavy breath of it fans against your cupid’s bow.

“Oh,” you hum through labored pants when you part again. “It was that good, huh?”

“Better,” he answers with a crooked smirk on his swollen pink mouth. He’s finally able to open his eyes and see more than a blur when his high starts to subside. “That was fucking… I mean, that was… fuck…”

His speechlessness makes you giggle. Your gaze stays locked on his profile when he turns to look up at the ceiling.

“That was exactly what I wanted. And, like, I didn’t even know I wanted it, you know?” he rambles. “How did you— How did you know? How do you always know?”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and honestly, neither is he.

You just always know what he needs. You buy him a toothbrush because you know he’ll forget his, and when you touch him, you know exactly what he likes — even though he doesn’t even know what he likes.

It’s like you’re another half of him, and not in the stupid soulmate way everyone always thinks they’ve found. You’re an identical part of him that no one else can fit. He’s only whole with you — like a sandwich cut into triangles or halves of an orange. 

“Well, to be fair, I did ask Steve what a guy would want in this sort of situation,” you admit with a scrunched nose. “I just sort of went with what he said.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he turns his head to peer at you again. He blinks at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then sputters. “Wait— You’re telling me I have Steve to thank for that blowjob? Like Steve-Steve? As in Steve The Hair Harrington?”

His dramatics makes you giggle. You hide your grin behind your palm.

“Hope that doesn’t change anything, Eddie Spaghetti.”

You meant it as a joke, as in, please don’t think of Steve every time I give you a blowjob from now on, but your words settle something heavy on the both of you. 

Because you’ve had Steve The Hair Harrington, in more ways than most friends tend to have one another. You’ve had a lot of people like that. There are people in the world with parts of you that most only give away when they’ve found someone really, really special. 

You learned about that too late. And now you feel a lot less special.

Eddie hears all your dreadful, no-good thoughts because they’re also his own. 

He’s a virgin with the town slut, so he often feels like he’s drowning. It isn’t because of you, though. It’s never because of you. The number of people you’ve slept with doesn’t mean a damn thing to him; he just wants to measure up to them.

He wants to be the kind of man that sticks in your head after you’ve been with a thousand of them — the kind you can’t help but remember fondly because there hasn’t been another one like him.

He’s got no idea he’s already better than every person you’ve ever been with combined.

“No, sweetheart,” he assures with the shake of his head. The apple of his cheek rubs against the fabric of your comforter as he looks at you with eyes deeper than an infinite galaxy. His gaze holds all of its own stars, and each of them is named after you. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

[annab-nana]

Hand an idea for your sleepover.

Eddie goes to some rock/metal concert and finds the reader aka Hawkin High royalty aka captain of the cheer squad at said concert.

this is my favorite request you've sent in by far like i LOVE this concept

warnings: not proofread

❀ masterlist ❀

you didn't know how it lined up so perfectly, but it did. there was normally a week break between football and basketball season and that weekend just so happened to be the weekend that kiss was going to be in indianapolis for their animalize world tour. it was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up.

it definitely took some sneaking around to work out the kinks, but you made it work. your parents thought you were spending the night at chrissy's and to return the favor to chrissy, her parents were under the impression that she was sleeping over at your place—she was really at jason's.

you were losing yourself as heaven's on fire blasted throughout market square arena. your blood felt electric while coursing through your veins and your throat started to sting in the best way from screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs.

it was nice to dance on the weekend in your jeans to music you adored rather than in your cheer skirt for the hawkins high sports team. you loved cheer. it was everything to you, but nothing matched the experience you were soaking in right now.

you were so lost in it all that you almost didn't feel the tap on your shoulder and you definitely weren't expecting to see the face you turned to.

"eddie?" you called loudly in an attempt to be heard over the loud music.

he stepped closer to you so you could hear each other better. "so, my eyes don't deceive me. it is y/n y/l/n, queen of hawkins high."

you playfully rolled your eyes at him. the nickname was never your favorite, but it was what it was. you leaned forward to be closer to his ear. "in the flesh."

you had seen the boy smile a lot. he always did when he was with his friends at school or when he was being theatrical on the cafeteria tables during lunch. but something about the grin he wore now combined with the sheen of sweat on his skin and his wilder-than-normal curls had your knees feeling a little weak.

he tilted himself forward to speak in your ear. "what are you doing here?"

"what?" you started, a smirk growing on your lips. you knew no one from school ever expected to see you at a concert like this, but you liked to know you had some surprises up your sleeve. "didn't expect me to be a fan?"

"honestly, no, but, i always knew you were at least a little bit cool," he teased. he glanced around and noticed there was no one with you. "you're here alone?"

"yeah."

"me too," he stated before looking down for a second and then meeting your eyes once more. "well, i'll let you get back to your little dancing bubble, but it was a nice surprise to see you here."

eddie took a step away from you, but your fingers circled his wrist to hold him back. his brows tugged together when he looked back at you.

"wait, stay. you're good company, munson."

this time, you swore you'd collapse at the smile he showed you.

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[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 5 I LOVE YOU vs. CAT

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for I LOVE YOU:

mappi’s spitting bars 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️

ok but i, as the iloveyoucountdown person before it released, waited 89 days for ily and SHE DID NOT DISAPPOINT‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥 go vote ily now bc its peak music

---

the acoustic section where it just feels so raw and emotional it's crazy also we love to see mappi/miho okasaki rapping again and good lord mahiru delivered hadauwd, like you think about it a lot? like "Ishokujuu plus ai Miss you Raishuu aemasuka no Cadence Yurusarenai ikigai mou iki mo dekinai" it's also so catchy just "Dai- dai- dai- datte suki suki! Dai- dai- dai- datte daisuki."

it's such a quick song but it delivers and it DELIVERS WELL there's so much in the instrumental you can also miss, like sirens and such! again guitar section it's crazy!! i didn't even touch on the visuals, like the visuals are absolutely amazing and really touch on the toxic cycle of mahiru's relationship for example, the carousel turning into a forest! and also they were still able to implement some of tihtbilwy in the beginning of the song! we got to see mahiru's boyfriend as well!! additionally, RATS AND CAKE. HOLY SHIT we all know the absolute shock that appeared on everyone's faces the second that cake turned into a rat (to be honest, I was absolutely sick with shock for the rest of the day) It's really amazing as a song and MV, plus it did help give some more information on Mahiru!

---

miho okasaki's vocals are so powerful. it sounds like mahiru is screaming because of not being forgiven and because of what happened to her boyfriend and because "she can't just do it right".

THE LYRICS ARE SO. "clothes food shelter + love and miss you"?? "my lethal weapon is how to be in love with you"?? "kiss goodbye to this feeling cuz it's too heavy"?? again, the "why can't i just do it right" line?? SO GOOD.

MAHIRU RAPPING. THIS SONG STARTS WITH HER RAPPING. LITERAL CHILLS

i've heard the i love you chorus once and now it's in my head forever. i wake up, i sing the i love you chorus. i go to sleep, i sing the i love you chorus.

the lyrics are so sad when you start thinking about them more. "saying i love you but doing what i did, i know i have no right, crossed and covered in sin"?? please, don't you want to give mappi a hug. please she deserves it. she needs it

the "DIE-suki" pun.

the mv is so. i can talk about it for hours. it literally starts with showing us what happened to her bf. i've watched it live, i knew about this part and i still was shocked. mahiru's boyfriend is dead. mahiru is also rapping. also, the lyrics. this scene is terrifying to me and i mean it in the best way possible.

the cake symbolism. mahiru refusing to accept her reality and the true nature of her relationship with her bf and still seeing everything around her as cute and soft and pink. her feeling guilty and not knowing how to express love properly and still choosing to continue to love in this way. i don't know, something about it is so.. it's so sad and so realistic and so heartbreaking

i love how we can say so much about her relationship with her boyfriend based on mv and the lyrics. this is more of a theory and i probably shouldn't talk about it but i like the fact that mappi and her bf's relationship wasn't just abusive or one-sided love or anything like that. it's like they loved each other, they just.. didn't know how to show it or express it in a healthy way (or maybe mahiru's bf did know, but he was okay with going through all of this for her). like this scene when they're both riding the carousel and looking happy at first and even when both of them look like a mess, mahiru's face expression is still pretty much the same while her boyfriend looks much more tired, but he's still smiling. something about that part breaks me.

the instrumental is so fun and chaotic and creepy please listen to it. all milgram instrumentals are great but ily instrumental is definitely one of my fav ones.

Propaganda for CAT:

"You like jazz? Jazz is chaos within order. Got to love the whole band. Vibraphone, saxophone, trumpet, flute, piano, guitar, drums, bass… Go, rhythm section, go! The song sounds tender at times and aggressive at others as different instruments pop up at different times. Sometimes they follow Kazui’s voice (“follow the king of the masquerade”). Sometimes they get to be the focus. You have the chill piano one moment and the screaming guitar in the next.

You’ve got a lovely “jingle” (“Lie until it gets better…”) which occurs at the beginning, middle, and end. It fits the “newspaper ad” style of the video really well. Also at the very end, there’s one more line that gives the jingle an upward contour, giving a sense of finality. “Until you can meet the king of the masquerade.” You’re there now.

The two verses start off differently before they take on a similar melody. It feels like Kazui is talking to a different person in each verse.

The chorus is a beautiful façade the first time and a sinister truth the second time.

The opening for solos shows that this jazz song means business. I love how the saxophone and trumpet especially get in your face. And with the tacet on vocals, the walking bass really shines if you lend it your ear.

And the smoke break! Silence is golden. Glass click. Lighter. Huff.

As always, Kazui’s voice is super deep. He hits even lower notes this time around. He’s a fifth lower than the next lowest singers (Haruka and Shidou)."

---

-Great instrumental choice. Kazui and jazz is *chefs kiss*

-Symbolism. THE SYMBOLISM. I can’t type out all my thoughts but ifykyk

-The almost comic like style of the MV is really appealing.

-Lyrics!! There is so much to unpack but it’s really cool.

-Kazui eating the dove… fricken iconic.

---

FIRST OF ALL the vocals????? BEAUTIFUL. His va put his whole pussy into this song and you can tell!! The way he sings the chorus is so damn addicting I'm so in love with him. His voice is more or less stable throughout the entire thing until the final chorus but you can hear the emotion peaking out which fits perfectly with Kazui keeping everything hidden. The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper during "all the things I wanna do that I can't say outloud"??? The way his voice starts trembling during "this feeling it's yearning to be satisfied"???? The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper AND starts trembling during "hey, if I said I liked-liked you, what would you?"?????? HEAVENLY! You can really feel how afraid Kazui is under his disguise and my heart breaks a little everytime I listen. Not to mention how absolutely powerful his voice gets at the climax!!!!!! It's insane!!!!!!! It's genius!!!!!! It makes me wild makes me crazy makes me eat my walls!!!!!!!!!!

THE SMOKE BREAK?????? What other song has something as powerful as that huh???? This isn't just a song produced by the milgram machine using his memories, this is HIS song and he is OWNING IT! The music builds up so much and gets so intense right before it, I can literally feel myself get tense and starting holding my breath right before he takes the break and everything relaxs… it's not just a break for him, but a break for the viewer. The song is spiralling out of control just like his life and his lies and he has no choice but to put it to a quick stop before its too much to handle.

THE IMAGERY IS WILD!!!!! He's a magician!!! Little magic guy!!!! Using tricks and lies to amaze and captivate the people around him! Trying desperately to magic his own feelings into something else! But it's all fake! It's all tricks and no matter how hard he tries he can never actually change himself into what he wants! But he's trying to convince himself the same way he's convinced his audience!! And when you're watching a magic act, are you there for the magician themself or are you there to watch the show?? The people in his life only cared for him when he performed for them, but they didn't give a drop of love to who he was a person! ALSO the transformation of the wedding ring to a cigarette to the dove at the end??? Makes me wild every single time! Right infront of his wife, he showed her that their marriage was something unhealthy for him that was slowly killing him from the inside. AND THEN he uses it to harm himself???? And then he turns that cigarette into a dove- a representation of love and literally TEARS INTO IT. He tears his marriage apart with his mouth!!! AKA HIS WORDS. makes me wild. Also fun fact Kazui says he started smoking because when he was younger it was "just natural for everyone to smoke" and that lines up with his reasons for marriage perfectly.

Kazui looks really hot in it. You should vote for Cat because Kazui is insanely attractive. What other reason do you need huh? Hot gay middle aged man.

[silverskye13]

Cursed/turned into an animal Tanguish, make him actually a cat

"How do these things happen to you?" Helsknight asked, crouching down on the balls of his feet so he was closer to Tanguish's level. Closer, but not on his level, as Tanguish, by some clever, terrible miracle, had been transformed into a cat. He was a handsome enough little creature, all blue-black, with a handful of sparse white hairs that salted his back and shoulders. But there was a large difference between handsome little cat and the full helsmet he was supposed to be, and Tanguish was, understandably, he thought, upset about his current circumstances. Even more upset now, given Helsknight seemed incapable of taking it seriously. "No really, I'd like to know. If I make an offering to whatever god or saint you pissed off, they might pass me over."

Oh haha, very funny, Tanguish said. Or he tried to say. What actually came out of his cat-shaped mouth, which made itself unavailable to forming human words, was a string of yowls that conveyed vague allusions to indignation. His fur spiked up his back for good measure, and he flattened his ears, just in case Helsknight needed the extra hint.

"I don't speak cat," Helsknight informed him helpfully, crossing his arms on his knees and raising his eyebrows in an amused expression. "You know, I've always been more of a dog person. Matches my aesthetic better. Do you think you could shape shift into something a little more intimidating? Even a large cat would do. You're a bit too scrawny and gangled, if I'm being honest."

Tanguish rumbled back a growl that he hoped would sound fierce and insulted.

"I'm terrified, truly," Helsknight informed him patronizingly. "Would a sardine help soothe your temper, O Mighty Feline? Maybe some cream?"

Tanguish swatted at him, tiny, impotent claws raking across Helsknight's boot.

"Hey now, be grateful," Helsknight tsked disdainfully. "Cream and sardines are an expensive find in hels. Probably worth your tiny cat weight in diamonds."

Tanguish huffed a sigh out of his nose, and then sneezed when the sensation tickled his whiskers. He was still getting used to whiskers. A tail and claws he was used to. The eyes weren't so good as his sculk sight, but not so different that it took a lot of adjusting. No, it was the whiskers that made his body feel the most awkward, little strings attached to his face that made him feel like he was constantly in danger of getting stuck somewhere, only to realize no, he'd just walked a little too close to a wall. It was his whiskers that told him, while he pawed miserably at his nose, that Helsknight had reached for him. Before he could jump away, Helsknight had picked him up by the scruff and tossed him on a pauldroned shoulder like he was nothing.

"So I guess we'll start with a quick prayer to my Saint," Helsknight sighed, "and then we'll start visiting alters until some priest comes up with a solution. Have you tried respawning yet? No, don't hiss at me. I don't know what that means. Just meow once for yes and do that weird growl-thing for no. So have you tried-- no, didn't think so. Put the claws back Tanguish, I'm not going to kill you. Killing cats is bad luck."

Tanguish snorted indignantly again, and then sneezed again, and at least got some satisfaction at the disgusted look Helsknight flashed in his direction.

"Sneeze somewhere other than my ear next time please."

Tanguish growled.

"I'm sorry, was that a no?"

He meowed brightly.

"You know, you've got at least nine lives. I'm sure my Saint will forgive me if I wring one out of you."

Tanguish swatted him on the side of the face. If Helsknight was bothered, he didn't show it. Instead he walked off down the street, clearly intent on his plan that Tanguish was sure wouldn't work, but they might as well try. Under his breath Helsknight hummed:

"There's an old poem about cats and monks. Can't really remember the lyrics. Something like... Pangur, white Pangur."

Helsknight chuckled.

"Tanguish, O Tanguish, how happy we are. Alone together, warrior and cat."

Tanguish settled down on the knight's shoulder, tail held out stubbornly for balance as he strolled down the street. He had to dig his claws in to Helsknight's cape to keep from falling off, but at least if was warm place to sit.

"Each has his own work to do daily; For you it is hunting, for me, slaying. Your shining eye watches the wall; My fair eye is fixed on a blade. You rejoice when your claws entrap a mouse; I rejoice when my mind fathoms a problem. Pleased with his own art neither hinders the other; Thus we live ever without tedium and envy. Tanguish, O Tanguish, how happy we are, alone together, warrior and-- are you purring? That's hilarious."

Tanguish, who hadn't realized he was purring, stopped abruptly, feeling vaguely betrayed by his own contentment. He swatted Helsknight's face, careful to keep his claws sheathed.

"What? It's not my fault you can't keep your little cat noises to yourself -- stop swatting at me! That's rude. Do it again and you can run your little paws off through town all on your own."

[genericpuff]

Genuinely I would give anything to hear your thoughts or read more critical analysis of yours on other webcomics writing (*slides you Marionetta* I like the webtoon but there are some things in the writing that I'd like to see be discussed critically more often but the fandom focuses way too much on shipping. sighs..)

Anyway, you probably have been asked this before but are there any webtoons in particular you would recommend? :D

Oh lord, you don't know how many times a week I get asks in my inbox asking for my opinions on webtoons they're reading. It's really sweet that people wanna hear me talk about other works outside of LO, but unfortunately I just don't have the time to read as much as I used to, even keeping up on LO lately is getting really difficult 😅 I'm definitely keeping a list though of works to check out!

That said, I try not to read series on the basis of criticizing them because frankly I just... don't want to spend time reading something if people are only looking for me to rag on it? 😆 Of course I know that's not the only reason, I know there's also just the element of seeing me talk extensively about other works the way that I do with LO, but it's not really something I can turn on and off like that, I have to get really into a series to want to talk about it to that extent. So it often comes down to just luck of the draw :'0

Right now the series I'm keeping up the most on (or have completed and would absolutely 100% re-read):

Alfie (18+, it's porn with plot but the plot is REALLY GOOD , I SWEAR LMAO the art is gorgeous, the characterization is IMMACULATE, and it ironically tackles the subject of purity culture way better than LO ever has lol)

Theia Mania (the creator is often in my comment section / neck of the woods, she's been working on an Abduction of Persephone retelling for a long while now and has also tackled other myth retellings in her style! I always love seeing new pages of her work in my feed :' ) <3)

Tales from Alderwood (if you like fantasy and comedy, this one's great, the plot's really starting to get interesting and it's just got this really great sense of humor about it)

The Black Parade (this one's REALLY interesting, it's a comic-stylized version of My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade, using the songs as narration and sometimes even dialogue to tell a visual story, it's really cool and the art matches beautifully with the lyrics and style of MCR!)

A Tale of Two Rulers (this is a Legend of Zelda fancomic that poses the question, "What if Zelda and Ganondorf got married to solve their political crisis?" It updates a lot slower than most of the other comics I follow but the art and writing is so worth it <3)

Dogs of Future Past (and p much all of Lynx's Undertale comics which can be found in the link, seriously, THESE are the comics you wanna read if you wanna get into Undertale fanworks, they are PEAK)

Tamberlane (this one's an anthro comic, I normally don't read anthro but this one actually gripped me by the throat, the art is gorgeous and the character arcs so far have been great!)

The Mafia Nanny (okay it's legit so funny that I'm including this one here but I've been reading it the last couple days after seeing it basically beat out LO at the top of the trending tab for a couple days, so I figured I'd give it a shot, at first I was like "great more tropey shit" but the more I read it the more it's actually started to get pretty good, I'm holding out and hoping to god it stays that way LOL it's not especially deep or anything like that, but it's really fun and cute to read and the shipping of the main character within the narrative isn't too self-absorbed which I can always appreciate, I'd honestly be 100% fine with it if it didn't turn into a romance)

City of Blank (I talk about this one a lot here, but it's one of my favorite Originals right now, the art is super polished and the writing has gotten INTENSE, go check it out if you want some fun action / sci-fi storytelling!)

Time and Time Again (a time-travelling vampire and his werewolf boyfriend get into all kinds of misadventures, what more could you ask for?)

Touch of Divinity (like the Mafia Nanny, this is one I just started reading, it's got a very interesting premise so far and I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes!)

[irishmammonagenda]

Hello! I hope your requests are open 🧚‍♀️

Can i ask, what brothers' reaction would be on MC who sings something like MSI (you know smth like "son of a bitch! God's like me!") or just alternative rock/punk in general?

Answer only if you're okay with that❤️

Have a great day🏃‍♂️

hihi‼️(i love the amount of emojis u use i can feel ur personality through the screen teehee)

i absoluetley can‼️‼️ also tysm for the new music to listen to (im kind of new to alt rock and punk i only really used to listen to MCR lmao😭)

anyway this was fun to write

grma for the ask <3

Obey Me Brothers React to MC Being a Wee Emo.

DISCLAIMER: emo is used as a word because where im from emo is used to describe nearly any type of alternative fashion bc we're all dumb over here app, also im 2% sure pop punk/poprock is emo music bc i think thats what mcr is, so we're going w/ it ig, the only thing ik abt music is that bars 13-20 in the dambusters themetune has fanfare so if i get any terms wrong lmk 😔✊

WARNINGS: There's a slight slight hint of drinks being spiked in Beel's one. nothing ever happens its just him keeping an eye on your drink at a concert just in case.

LUCIFER

He hears music blasting in the music room in the House of Lamentation.

At first he just sighs, it sounds like the type of music Belphie would listen to when trying to plan out another Anti-Lucifer League. The teenage angst probably helped fuel the seventh born’s desire and motivation to prank him.

He sneaks into the Music room. Technically he just walked in quietly, but you still jumped when you saw him.

"L-Lucifer!! Hiya!!" You say awkwardly, not looking the first born in they eyes. "What's up?" He blinks slowly at you, fighting the urge to place a gloved hand on the bridge of his nose and pinch it in disappointment (and/or second hand embarrassment) "I'm not going to say anything. Just keep it down, MC." He sighs, normally he'd have lectured you. But it reminded him too much of a wolf-cut, guyliner filled past that for the sake of his pride, he did not want to remember.

He wasn't a stranger to musical genres, the man collects records for fuck's sake.

The drums and guitars he can normally get behind. Especially with catchy rhythms.

The lyrics?....they're normally a hit or miss. It really depends on the song.

'God likes me' (MSI) 'Hail Mary, Forgive Me' (PTV) Religious references just kind of ruin some songs for him.

Lucifer spends his time collecting cursed records, but your music taste is a special kind of cursed MC.

Although, he is strangely supportive in his own way.

"MC, Lord Diavolo has gifted me some tickets to concert [small devildom band] is putting on, I thought you would enjoy it."

(Lucifer bought the tickets himself.)

MAMMON

Haha, Emo!

"Yer a wee emo so ye are, MC"

It's not exactly his style of music (the man listens to Kneecap ffs)

BUT!!! He wants to share things with you dammit! Let him listen to your stupid emo music with you!!! He's your first man!!!

He does, however learn how to play guitar so he can play some simple chords while you sing horrible improvised lyrics with horrible improvised chords.

You don't have the heart to tell him that acoustic guitars aren't normally used in Punk/Rock music.

The sound of horribly improvised chord progressions ring out in your bedroom as you and your first man stand back to back, horrible matching messy eyeliner on both of yours and Mammon's eyes as you hold a hairbrush to your mouth and improvise lyrics. That is, if you can even get them out of your mouth before laughing. "Blood in my body! Because I'm aliveeee!!!" You sing off key while Mammon strums the guitar. "Love in my Bugatti! Because The Great Mammon can drive!" You laugh. Mammon whistles while missing out on the fingering of a chord and then pretending it didn't happen.

LEVIATHAN

The first thought in this man's mind is karaoke.

He sends you a playlist of Rocky kinda anime openings that you should totally listen to.

He's the least shocked and weirded out, (not that the others are weirded out)

He really likes your singing voice. It doesn't matter if you're a horrible singer, its you so it makes him happy.

You guys could do a duet? If it wasn't too much for you to sing with a stinky smelly otaku like him :(

"Levi-" You sigh, looking at the Levi shaped lump of seaweed in his aquiriam, the demon's tail twitches through the pile of aquatic plant, showing that he's listening. "Levi... Of course I'd love to do Karaoke with you...You didn't give me a chance to answer before jumping into the tank! C'mon!" It takes Levi a few more minutes before he feels ready to leave his seaweed pile, his face is completely red, but there's a small smile on his face as you set up the karaoke machine.

SATAN

Satan enjoys your music taste.

He likes most if not all human world music because music is so important to culture and he loves learning about human world culture.

What he doesn't like however, is people dropping his name in lyrics for edginess smh.

No MC, no one in Je T'aime is his bitch. Please stop asking.

He also takes you to gigs! Because why not!

The blond haired demon sat in the bar, earning a few looks from the people surrounding them. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his jumper and jeans and the book in his hands in comparision to black denim and leather, chains and sub-cultural clothes that everyone else was wearing. Satan payed it no mind as you came back with the drinks, all decked out in clothing matching the rest of the people in the venue in style. "Hope you weren't waiting long....the lines were long!" Satan takes a drink from your hand and sips it, giving a soft smile, "Not at all."

ASMODEUS

The music is a hit and miss tbh, he prefers the more pop punk kind of thing, leaning more into pop than anything else.

He likes paramore though!

Loves the clothes associated with the genres and subcultures of the music! Adopts some of it into his own style!

(He alters it heavily, but some designs are inspired by the subcultures)

He could be your adorable gorgeous boyfriend and you could be the wee emo gremlin partner!

The opposites attract will look so cute on his Devilgram.

But he geniunely supports you and your interests, he designs and makes clothes for you in the style associated with your music taste.

He even makes you merch of your favourite bands and albums inspired into clothes.

He also does your makeup before you go out to concerts or gigs

Your his emo after all.

You squirm as Asmo runs his fingers along your flushed skin, he laughs as you jerk away. "It's just a brush, it wont hurt you darling!" He laughs, putting more black eyeshadow onto the makeup brush and applying it---or atleast trying to---to your eyelids, biting back teasing comments as you jerk away. You were ticklish god dammit! It wasn't like you were meaning to! It was a natural reflex!

BEELZEBUB

He likes it.

but not because he enjoys the music persay. Don't get him wrong he can listen to it and enjoy it but he wouldn't normally seek it out.

He likes it because you and Belphie like it, and the style reminds him of the both of you.

In terms of rock music he likes the more slow ballady types. Belphie normally listens to them when he has trouble falling asleep.

Very supportive.

If you're ever in the Mosh Pit in a concert, Beel will go with you, you're just so tiny and people can push you about! (You're tiny to him. So yes MC, his point still stands.)

Taking that back, if you're at a concert, Beel's probably with you. Unless you're with another brother, Even then, Beel's probably going to come.

Bro is like your own bodyguard.

Reports to Lucifer when at concerts and makes sure you're not taking any illegal substances, you don't know what's in them MC!

He makes sure nothing is put in your drink either.

He just wants to keep you safe :(

Beel had been staring at the cup in your hands back and forth for a while now, you smile and offer it up to him. "Want a sip, Beelie? You've been staring at my drink a lot" You practically shout over the music. You weren't in the mosh pit, and though you stood a good distance away, the music was still loud. Beel shakes his head, pointing to his pint and smiling his closed eye smile, "No thanks, MC. I'm just making sure you're staying hydrated and don't need refills." He says truthfully, though that truth isn't whole. You grin, "Aww...that's so sweet!" Turning your attention away from him and back to the stage, Beel wraps an arm around your waist. Eyes alert and wary when someone so much as walked past, or a crowd member got a little too close while dancing. He was overprotective and cautious. But you deserved to be safe.

BELPHEGOR

Give him back his albums what the actual fuck.

Look just because he takes your life it doesn't mean you get to take his music taste.

Wowwww. Petty.

Fine, you can borrow his limited edition special cut vinyls.

What? Lucifer's not the only one with a record collection.

He did not get this idea from Lucifer, No you Liar.

He did.

Belphie listens to rock ballads to get to sleep when he has trouble sleeping and when he wants to.

Sometimes when you nap together he puts some on.

It's kind of like a white noise machine.

Will go to concerts with you and Beel, but has to have slept for atleast 2 whole days leading up to it so people don't think he's passed out in the crowd.

Mention any similarites about his little music vinyl collections to Lucifer's cursed record selections he will not let you borrow any for atleast 3 days.

Long before Eve bit the apple and the brother's wings turnt black, a small boy with indigo hair wakes up from a nap, pouty lips wobbling when he realises his twin is nowhere to be found. Belphie sniffles, but doesn't break into tears. He's a big boy now! Big boys don't cry when they miss their twins! Beel was probably out on a walk with Michael and Lilith in her stroller! He'd come back! But still, Belphie's bottom lip trembled, eyes watering, the little boy didn't like being seperated from his twin! He was about to cry when he heard loud music coming from a room down the hall. More curious than anything, Belphie gets off of his bed, and (taking his teddy bear with him) walks down the hall following the sound. Though his walk was more of a waddle with his tiny legs. He'd never heard anything like it before! When Beel got back he could tell him about his discovery! Soon enough he reaches a slightly cracked open door and the music is super loud here. This must be it! Waddling into the room, Belphie could see a figure laying spread eagle on one of the beds. Half of the room decorated in colour with one bed and the half of the room with the person laying on the bed was almost completely in black with a bunch of posters on the walls. Most importantly, on the floor lay a box with a spinny thing spinning that seemed to be playing the sounds! Belphie held his teddy in one hand and lifted up the thing that was running across the big black circle. Immediately the sound stopped and the figure sat up, with layered dark shoulder length hair, layered dark black white and red clothes, and enough eyeliner to paint the colourful bright half of the room pitch black. A teen Lucifer looks down at Belphie with a sour expression, upset his mope session had been interrupted. "What are you doing here?" He asks the small indigo-haired angel. Belphie looks up at him with wide, sparkling eyes before pointing to the record player. "Why's it makin' sound? There's no choir in there...." Lucifer's eyes soften. His mope session about meeting the demon prince, not hating him, and finding him pretty like the human he met down in the human world could wait. "It's a record player, Belphs." The teenager's too emo, the end is nigh, everything sucks, too cool for love and affection persona drops and reveals his softie interior. Lucifer picks up his younger brother and places him on his bed as he takes out the record that was playing in the record player and putting on one that would be much less intimidating for someone as young as Belphie. He sits back onto the bed and the small boy cuddles up to his big brother, ever the affectionate child. As the record plays on Belphie grins up at Lucifer, revealling one missing front tooth. He had lost them early, shortly after Beel's tooth had fallen out. Lucifer grinned too, suppressing a chuckle at how Beel hadn't even realised his tooth was wobbly until he bit into his breakfast and found his tooth lodged into the food. "Luci! I likes this music!" "Do you?" "Mhm!" Lucifer grins, petting his youngest brother's head. "I'll tell you what. For your birthday I'll get you your very own record player and lend you some vinyls, we can even go to the human world and pick some new ones out. I'll show you how to play them when you have them, okay?" "Okay! Thank you Luci!" After a while, the songs change from high energy into ballads, Belphie's eyes grow heavier, as do his big brother's. Belphie curled up into the elder's side, abandoning his teddy bear for grabbing at the fabric of Lucifer's shirt with tiny grubby hands as he nodded off. Lucifer made sure to try not to move, in result of the slow rock ballad music and staying completely still so not to jostle and wake up his youngest brother who would 100% get cranky if woken. Slowly, Lucifer's eyes start to close, and he falls into a soft slumber as well.

And hey, if Michael returned from his walk, and after leaving Beel and Lilith into a play room went to check in on Lucifer and saw that sight; and then proceeded to grin and take multiple photos of said sight from multiple angles to use as blackmail on his little emo twin brother Lucikins on a later occassion, then that was Michael’s business and Michael’s business alone. And Lucifer's business when Michael didn't want to do the dishes when it was his night to do them, of course.

But if you ask, Belphie'll tell you that visiting the human world is what got him interested in that type of music.

Because he's a stinky smelly little liar and should be locked up in an attic.

On a side note he bullies you for being 'emo' :(

Bro is such a hypocrite.

But to be geniune, Belphie loves that he can share his music with you. He's happy you can bond over this with him.

Not that he'd ever outright tell you.

But you can tell in the way he gives you albums and vinyls as gifts, and makes you little playlists of ballads to sleep to. (He's gotten you into the habit smh.)

[kinzis-writing]

Summary: After a horrible break-up, Y/N, decided to pack up and move her life from Buffalo, NY to Cincinnati, OH. She would be closer to her manager and she would be in the area where her podcast began. What she didn’t expect was to find a new relationship in another football player. <summary freaking sucks, and I wish I could write my summaries better but they are what they are.>

Pairing/Fandom: Tee Higgins x Fem! Reader! (NFL)

Warning(s): use of Taylor swifts songs as own (all rights go to her), bad guy! Josh Allen (sorry), fluff, maybe some angst, a few choice words.

All music, gifs, photos, etc. goes to their rightful owners. I am just using these in my imagine, so please don’t be rude.

I hate how I ended this, but I was not sure exactly how you wanted it! let me know if you wanted something different! based on this request. *Not edited so may have grammar/spelling erros.*

“How dare he! How dare he say that I am too immature and that’s why the relationship ended.” Y/N spoke to her friend Olivia who was sitting down beside where she was standing.

The girl had moved back to Cincinnati over eight months ago, her and josh had been broken up for a little over a year now. He had already moved on, seeing as he had made the news with an actress.

“Actually he said that he dated a lot of immature girls and that’s why he’ll never date someone younger than him again.” Olivia corrected Y/N as she gave the girl a look.

“I’m going to kill him.” Y/N grumbled as she plopped down on the couch.

“Woah, who’s going to face the wrath of Y/N today?” Joe burrow asked as he walked into the living room and gave Olivia a kiss before placing his bag down. Ja’Marr, Tee, Logan, Sam, and Tyler made their way in after him.

“Josh, that’s who.” Olivia spoke up knowing that Y/N was in distress right now. “Trying to ruin her reputation.”

Y/N huffed at what Olivia told the guys before glancing around at the Bengals players. “I’m pissed, but maybe it’s because I’m too immature.” She mocked, throwing her head back. “That dick acts like I was ten years younger than him. I’m 24, and he’s 26.” Y/N then turned to Logan who she knew had played college ball with Josh. "Did he ever try to ruin any of his other ex's?"

Logan shrugged not really knowing what to say. He had played with Josh in Wyoming, but was unsure about much else concerning his love life. What the guys did know was that Y/N was far from immature and everyone on the team loved her, the significant others included.

"He's just mad because he lost the best girl he ever had." Tee spoke up, the guys nodding in agreement.

It was no secret that Tee and Y/N were close. They were often mistaken for a couple when they were out in public together and the two had set the record straight multiple times. After Y/N moved to Ohio, Tee was the one to help her through the rough patch of healing from her break-up with Allen.

"Channel that anger into a number one hit and put him in his place." Sam suggested as he sat down on one of the chairs in the living room.

"I've already started," Y/N mumbled getting all the attention on her. Usually she shared her songs with Tee or Olivia. This one had been kept secret because she wasn't sure how she felt about it. "I don't know how I feel about because I wrote it about Josh and then one of my songwriting friends wrote one part and it doesn't even match him."

Olivia gave Joe a knowing look before he nodded and left the living room, returning with a guitar that Y/n had accidentally left. "You are not leaving this house until you give us a snippet." Olivia spoke sternly while Joe placed the guitar in Y/N's lap.

The girl rolled her eyes before gesturing for everyone to sit down, tee making sure to sit next to her, she opened up her phone and ran over the lyrics quickly. "you know what they say, you can't help who you fall for. And you and I fell like an early spring snow, but reality crept in, you said we're too different. You laughed at my dreams, rolled your eyes at my jokes. Mr. Superior thinkin' do you have all the space that you need? I don't have to be your shrink to know that you'll never be happy and I bet you think about me."

"That'll do it." Logan spoke before letting out a laugh. Y/N rolled her eyes and sat the guitar down on the coffee table.

"I bet you think about me, is the name of the song." Y/N mumbled before standing up, "I think I'm going to go. I have to record a podcast episode tomorrow and I need to get ready for that."

"I'll walk you out." Tee offered as Y/N told their friends bye.

Y/N collected her stuff before going to slip on her shoes. She and tee slipped out of the Burrow household and made their way to her Toyota. She carefully put her items in the backseat before turning to face her best friend.

“I, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I’m fully over Josh.” She spoke up her gaze locking on the guy she has liked for the past five months. “You’ve helped me through everything and I just didn’t want you to think that it was all for nothing. I just worry about my jobs and such.”

Tee nodded, “I know.” He assured her. He quickly opened her car door once he realized she was going to open it. “Do you want company tomorrow?”

A grin made its way onto Y/N’s face, “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” He asked. His own smile growing in his face. Y/N nodded before biting her lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you, Tamaurice.” Y/N replied causing the man to groan.

“Really, why you gotta use my full name.” Y/N just smirked before getting in her car and slowly pulling out of the drive to head towards her house.

*

"What's your take on the whole "every NFL player cheats on their significant other" thought process?" Y/N asked as she sat across from one of her friends, Allison Kuch. Her husband had previously played for the Cleveland browns and that was how the two girls had gotten close.

"I hate it." She laughed as she glanced at the two guys sitting behind the camera. Isaac was sitting next to Tee as the girls recorded Y/N's podcast episode. "I don't particularly think that the NFL would make someone cheat."

"Right." Y/N nodded, "If they are gonna cheat then they will no matter their job." Y/N finished.

"I read many articles about that being your case and I was like.. that doesn't sound right. I think it's funny how the media takes things and runs with it." Allison spoke into the microphone.

Y/N let out a small huff before nodding her head, "yeah, they do. I remember when the news hit that Josh and I broke up, which we had been broken up for two months before media and fans put it together. There were articles saying I was out with another guy in New York and then there were some saying Josh was hanging out with his ex and others. It was definitely many lies being told." Y/N agreed before moving onto the next question.

"I have a question for you, actually." Allison spoke up gaining the attention of Y/N. "Do you think that Josh ruined any plans to ever get with a professional athlete again?"

The question had gained the attention of Tee who was talking to Isaac about the upcoming football season. Y/N let out a nervous laugh, "Uh, no. I mean, the whole immature jab was hurtful but if you have bitter ex's then." Y/N shrugged not knowing how to continue that sentence. "My thought process is that one guy does not define the entire population. Josh does not define the NFL men population, you know?"

Allison nodded before the two carried on with the episode and eventually called it quits. After the podcast was over, Allison and Isaac had told the two goodbye and left to head back to their hotel. Tee was helping Y/N pick up her podcast room and get her equipment situated before they had shut the lights off and closed the door.

"You hungry? I was thinking about making dinner." Y/N mumbled as she walked into her kitchen and leaned back against the counter. She was trying to think of what to make that sounded good to her. Truth be told, since her break-up she hadn't been eating as much which was causing her to lose weight.

"I'm good with whatever." Tee shrugged as he came to a stop in front of her and leaned against the island. "Does it bother you that people ask about Josh?"

The girl in front of him shrugged, "Not really. He's part of my past and people want to know, and I think talking about it can be healing." she explained thinking about her past with the NFL quarterback. "Does it bother you that people ask about him?"

Tee was taken back by that question. He was not expecting to have her reconcile that question back to him. "A little, maybe." He muttered not knowing how she would take the new information.

Y/N nodded, the butterflies swarming in her stomach. "Can I play you a song that I've been working on?" she asked almost shyly. It was strange for her not to be outgoing around him. He had been her best friend for almost a year now and she had never cowered under him.

"Course." Tee agreed as he followed Y/N to her living room. She had her guitar, notebook, and pen laid out neatly on her coffee table.

Y/N picked up her guitar once they got situated on the couch and started the chords for the song. It was an upbeat song which she would have to give him an idea of what the acoustic would sound like. "we kept everything professional, but something's changed, it's somethin' I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best that we move fast and keep quiet. You won't believe half the things I see inside my head, wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened, yet." She sang carefully.

Her eyes stayed on the notepad as she sang, scared to see her best friend's reaction. "but what would you do, if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? what would you do if we never made a sound? Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall for me, I can see you up against the wall with me, and what would you do? baby if you only knew. That I can see you, throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more, what would you do, baby if you only knew. That I can see you." She finished singing the snippet of her almost finished song.

Y/N carefully laid her guitar back in its previous spot and turned towards her best friend. "What do you think?" she asked nervously.

The Bengal's wide receiver nodded, "it's great." He told the girl his honest opinion. "Did someone inspire it or was it one of those late-night thoughts you get?"

"You, inspired it." Y/n mumbled knowing that it was now or never to get her feelings out there. She wanted to tell him before he met someone else and did not have the chance for him to see her like that. Tee stared at her for a good couple of minutes unknowing what to say. "Can you please say something?" she asked after the long silence. Her stomach was churning from nerves.

"You wrote a sexual song about me?"

"Now you make it sound horrible." Y/n muttered as she stood up trying to ease her stomach. The bile was slowly rising in her throat and she was unsure of how to take back what she had just said. "It's fine that you don't feel the same way, really. We can forget that I ever said anything."

"We could," Tee spoke as he stood up, causing Y/N's throat to burn even more. "Or we could make your song a reality..." he trailed. Y/n froze on the spot, her churning stomach coming to a halt as she felt relief flood her body. "What was it again?" He asked pretending to think. "I can see you up against the wall with me?" he asked. Y/N nodded unsure of his next move.

Without warning, he lifted her up by her thighs and placed then around his toned waist and carefully walked them backwards until her back hit the hallway wall. Y/n's heart was beating in her chest, her stomach was fluttering. The girl raised her eyes up to meet his brown ones, the closeness of them making her yearn for him. "You feel the same way?" she mumbled not sure what to say as her hands landed on the back of his neck. His braids tickled her knuckles a bit, but it was a feeling she loved.

Instead of answering, he carefully leaned closer and locked lips with the girl he had wanted since he met her. It was everything that they had both expected and even more than what they were expecting.

*About a year and some months later* (I guess around this 2023 season)

The last year had been going great for Y/N, she had her man that she was in love with, she had a successful album which consisted of her single about Josh and the one about Tee, and better yet, her relationship had been kept private for the most part.

your.username

💟868k

your.username Game Dey! Good luck to my favorite man. No matter the outcome of todays game you’ll always be my favorite! #whodey

username Bruh how does this girl get NFL guys?

username2 you dating Ja’Marr or Tee?

teehigginsmom_5 win this game boys!! Thank you for supporting my boy. <3

—> your.username always!! <3

username3 josh Allen >>> Tee Higgins

—> your.username maybe if you wanna man with temper… I prefer a man who treats me right!

username4 so “I can see you” is about Tee Higgins? … I am NOT okay!! I love it!!

*

The game had not gone as expected, many thought that the Raven's would lose but it turned out to be a loss for the Bengals. Y/N was still extremely proud of Tee, he had gotten 12 of the 24 points that they had made. Fans were leaving the stadium, most wearing Bengals gear, while some were in Raven's gear.

"Hi," a voice stopped Y/N as she was starting to head towards the Bengals locker room. "Can I get a picture?" The younger girl asked holding out her phone. Y/N gave the girl a smile and nodded before bending down to her level and getting a picture of the two. "Thank you. I really like you being friends with the Bengals, my dad makes me wear a raven's jersey because my mom likes Joe burrow."

Y/N gave the little girl a small smile, "well, I'll make sure to tell Joe and the team all about you." she said softly before she felt a presence beside of her. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too, thank you to much!" the fan replied before running off to find her family.

Y/N stood up and turned around to be met with Olivia who was probably heading to wait for Joe. Both girls headed towards the locker room and stopped outside when they could hear Zac Taylor’s voice. He was ranting while also trying to encourage them not to give up. It was obvious to Y/N that he was trying to get onto the team while keeping their hopes high.

Pretty soon after coach was done ranting, the boys started walking out talking amongst themselves. “Hey you.” Y/N greeted Tee softly once she seen him and pushed herself off the wall. “You did good out there.”

“Coulda been better.” Tee shrugged as his arms went to wrap around her waist.

“Hey!” Y/N scolded slightly. “12 points is still amazing.” She assured, her hands locking around his neck.

Tee gave her a small smile and pulled her into him. Their season was starting out horrible, and every single one of them hated it. Y/N squeezed her boyfriend before pulling back a bit, "You ready to get out of here?" she asked softly a twinkling in her eye that Tee had caught.

"for sure."

[whatitshouldvebeen]

I was thinking after I read your newest post about Johnny flirting with other girls even while in a relationship, and how he called the reader “his special girl” 😭 I feel like later in she (reader) would start to realize just how unhealthy the dynamic is, kind of like Melanie Martinez lyrics like “If I’m so special, why am I secret?” Just a thought, idk why I’m writing this out but anyways 💁🏽‍♀️

This is a follow up to this ask

"Johnny, I dont think this is working," you whispered, anxiety flooding you when his eyes snapped to yours. You were laying on his chest after another night of restless sleep.

"What isn't working?" He asked, his arm tensing beneath you.

"This. Us. I- I'm clearly not enough for you," you said, tears pricking at your eyes.

"What makes you say that? You're my special girl. Of course you're enough," he said. He sounded sincere, and you could see concern in his eyes. It killed you to know that concern was completely self-serving.

You cuddled up closer, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips despite your words. "Johnny, you've cheated on me more times than I can remember. I don't think you're a one-woman man."

"It don't count if we kill 'em baby. No one but you and me are gonna know it ever happened. It basically never did, if you think about it," he said. And you found some desperate part of yourself aching to believe him.

After all, you were the only girl who slept in his arms. Who got to hear about his day, and spend nights drinking and goofing off in the sunflower fields. Johnny loved to chase you, pull you into his arms, and spin you around laughing.

If only you could convince yourself that was enough.

Johnny sat up, laying his hand over you possessively. His dark eyes were sharp, as if he hadn't just been sleeping peacefully. He always slept best the night after killing someone.

Except last night, you were the one who killed. A young woman, her image etched into your mind's eye. She was taller than you. Did Johnny prefer girls her height? Her hair was a different color than yours, should you dye yours? Her eyes were the same, though. Maybe he liked to see you in them. Watch the light die in eyes that matched yours.

He'd slept with her to make you jealous, of course. Johnny loved making you feel strongly about him, no matter what that feeling was. But he didn't expect you to kill her, and you could tell it excited him. So when you said this wasn't working, he was thinking the opposite.

"You know I can't let you leave, baby," he whispered softly, soothingly. Like a promise.

"Please, Johnny. I killed someone now too. If I ever said anything, we'd both be in jail. I won't ever tell, please let me go," you begged, tears welling in your eyes.

Johnny's eyes narrowed. His hand that had been soft on your stomach turned harsh, his nails digging into your skin. "And I thought you were so perfect, sugar," he said, tsking. "Turns out you're just another dog."

He shoved you out of his bed, then, and you crashed to the floor with a yelp, looking up at him with wide, scared eyes. His expression was cold, oh so cold, as he sat up on the side of the bed and grabbed you by your hair, pulling you close to his face. The face that belonged to the man you'd come to love. The man that never once truly loved you.

"You can love me, or you can hate me," he said, tugging you even closer, his fingers painfully digging in to your scalp.

"But you ain't never gonna leave me."

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Midnights is defined by duality: The story of an unreliable narrator and performance art (Part 1)

One year on, I think I've finally figured out what midnights is about. And it might surprise you.

The midnights album has just celebrated its first anniversary. And having listened to these songs for the last 12 months, staying up late to watch live streams of the Eras tour, and at times being unable to escape news about Taylor on every medium, I finally have an idea that makes all of this make sense: This is Taylor's duality era. And she wants us to notice. Join me on the ride if you want to know more :)

I made a post a few weeks ago about how the Midnights aesthetic has the ‘two Taylors’ duology: Private vs public, which is the lead theme that carries over into the music and most recently also into her public image. Midnights had a mismatched visual to it from the very beginning with the depressed 70s look (announcement photo and vinyl covers) and the glamourous midnight blue (cover image and public appearances).

The two Taylors in the Anti Hero mv really drove home the message for me that this album is about two versions of the same story, and Taylor is the writer and narrator. And while I'm sure that these two versions have existed for a lot longer than the midnights era, they have not previously been so prominently next to each other. In fact, the very point of having the public narrative, is to keep Taylor's private life out of the public eye. She has never shied away from providing the 'stories' that her fans want to see in order to relate to her music, and as the girl that made her fame with songs about heartbreak and fairytale princes, that usually meant being seen with a man that these songs could be attributed to. And she made sure people would make the connection, be it with scarves that change ownership, or foxes on shirts:

(Btw you can't deny how effective this was, with just a few photos she managed to hang an entire album on each of these men!)

So, acting is not new to Taylor. In addition to appearing in a few feature films and TV shows since 2010, she's done this public performance for well over a decade now. And she has been vocal in recent years about her intention to go into filmmaking, so we know she's able to tell stories in multiple ways. She's a storyteller first and foremost, maybe the best of our generation. But is she a reliable narrator?

What does 'unreliable narrator' mean?

A story told by a so-called unreliable narrator, is usually a first person narration, where it turns out that the person telling the story was either lying or in some other way unable to give a truthful account of events (e.g. hallucinating or dreaming). That usually means that the audience is left with having to interpret for themselves what really happened and what was real or not real. Famous examples of this kind of storytelling are the 2010 psycho thriller 'Black Swan' with Natalie Portman, or the YA novel 'We were liars' by E. Lockhart. If you like stories that leave you guessing, check those out ;)

So, why is Taylor an unreliable narrator? For those fans that have paid attention to her lyrics, it has long been evident that her songwriting and public narrative don't match up. The most obvious theme being her 17-year run of writing songs about secret relationships and hiding, while she was parading men around in public to be photographed with. But, as we know, most people ignore it because it's just easier than digging deeper into lyrics. But now with Midnights, I'm starting to think she wants people to notice the duality and start to question her narrative. The sheer number of songs on that album that have strong double meaning or draw attention to lying or distorting the truth is astonishing: Right out the gate with track 1 we have Lavender Haze, a pretty loud song about bearding using the very well established queer reference of lavender. (And maybe she leaned out of the window a little too far with that title, because we all know the gaylor uproar was so loud when the title was revealed, that she had to backpedal and hetsplain it.) Immediately followed by Maroon, the song that has probably singlehandedly turned the most swifties into gaylors since Bettygate of 2020... Then on to Anti Hero, the ultimate duality song that also makes mention of lying and scheming, same as Mastermind. High Infidelity and You're Losing Me join the ranks of songs that look like they are about romantic relationships on the surface, but could also be interpreted to be about Taylor's relationship with fame and her fans. High Infidelity is a play on words of the term High Fidelity or HIFI, which is a 90s sound technology that refers to truthful reproduction of sound. High INfidelity is therefore a genius way of referring to both cheating and unfaithful reproduction of sound, almost like someone who makes music that isn't quite truthful... We also know from Aaron Dessner that this song was written following the 2021 Grammys and in the light of the whole William Bowery grammygate situation... I think there is point to be made about this song drawing attention to lying in a big way.

The timing of the release of You're losing me right around the time that her breakup with Joe made the news also feeds the narrative of a breakup song. But in this very 'breakup song' she says You say, "I don't understand," and I say, "I know you don't" and talks about sending signals that fall on deaf ears. Doesn't that sound an awful lot like 'I gave so many signs'? What does she know the addressee won't understand? Is it that when she finally reveals all her lies 90% of her fans will be shocked to their very core? On the exclusive CD version that has this track on it, it also immediately follows Dear Reader which on the track list looks like this:

Dear Reader You're Losing me (Does that look like a message? I think it does...)

By the time we make it to Dear Reader, she's basically told us 'I'm a liar who hides behind fake lavender relationships who charms everyone like a sleezy congressman, I'm the narcissistic Anti Hero you can't trust who schemes like a criminal and plans out everything like the puppet master I am, just so you like me and therefore you shouldn't look up to me, but I know you still will.' If that doesn't scream 'I want you to question everything I say or do' I don't know what does. Which brings us to performance art.

What is performance art?

Performance art is any kind of visual art that involves a dramatic performance aspect. To explain how this relates to Taylor and who she may have taken inspiration from, I refer to the brilliant Kristina Parro on TikTok:

Ok, groundwork is laid, but this is getting too long. Part 2 will be relating this to upcoming music releases and media coverage but that will have to wait til tomorrow.

As always, thanks for humouring me guys!

[tarotwithavi]

I was enchanted to meet you (fs)

Masterlist ♡ services

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This pick a card is all about the first meeting with your future spouse. We will cover the topics of where will you meet them and how will you meet them and a short first impression.

DISCLAIMER : this is a general pick a card so not everything will resonate with you. So take what resonates and leave the rest.

To have a personalized reading please DM me.

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PILE 1

Where will you meet them? 

Hmm, I'm getting that this could be a teaching Institute. And you could be the one teaching. I feel like you could be giving a speech or something and them being in the audience. I'm mostly getting a college. You could be a year older than them or just more mature. I'm also getting a zoo or a wildlife sanctuary. A place where there is a lot of greenery. This could be a stadium for some of you too. I'm seeing a concert, football match or some sort of competition.

I'm also getting a church for some of you. This could be a good place for meditation or you know, alone time. 

But in every scenario greenery and birds are important. 

How will you meet them? 

You might be exploring new things or just that place. You know, going around , looking at things, taking pictures etc. When I said greenery and animals, you could be taking care of them . And they see you like that. Alright this might seem weird but they could be looking at you with admiration but in your eyes they might seem angry or you know in a bad mood , so you'll stop what you were doing and this might disappoint them lol. However one thing is for sure that they'll fall for you first. 

First impression of you

Oh my god this is so sweet I might get diabetes 💀 they'll fell for you first and that too on first sight. The cards I got are so sweet my god. They'll feel instant connection with you . They'll think that you're perfect for them and you're the only they were waiting for. They'll find you do caring and loving that. They'll want to start a family with you and have kids with you. I definitely feel like this is a soulmate connection. Like yin yang ☯️ . You two could be very different from each other.

Messages that might resonate : water and air signs. Number 7 and number 4 . Blue/ clear sky. A new place, caring, nurturing, february and August. Ace/Alex.

For a personalized reading please DM me. And please leave a note it really helps me. ♥

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PILE 2

Where will you meet them?

Alright so, you might meet them while Traveling or on a vacation. For a place I'm getting mountains or Hills . For some of you guys, you could meet them in a hospital or a place for treatment. I'm also getting that you might meet them while going for therapy. For some of you, you could meet them while traveling or at a station, in a bus or while traveling overseas. I'm also getting that some of you could meet them when you'll be cutting things off with someone. Could be an ex or a friend too. I'm also getting that some of you could meet them in a beauty salon, jewelry store or a famous clothing store. You could meet them in Summer or on a Sunday. Some of you can also meet them on a beach.

How will you meet them?

Like I said before you could meet them on a vacation or when you'll be taking time for your rest. You could be spending time by yourself in a new place. You can meet them when you'll be starting a new chapter of your life. This period is going to be very important for you. I'm getting that you'll meet them when you'll be doing things that you love. And I'm also getting that you can meet them when you'll be standing up for yourself or for your beliefs. Or when you'll be arguing with people.

First impression of you :

Alright I'm getting that they might get obsessed and addicted to you vibes. Because you shine very brightly in their eyes and they can't see anyone but you. I'm hearing the lyrics " I don't see nobody but you " . But they'll feel like they need to take care of you and help you. They'll feel like you won't notice them so they might do something to get your attention. Four could be an Important number here.

Messages that might resonate : Taurus, Leo, black or at night, orange and red, blue butterflies, time for rest, lamb, 333/1010 , june, may and August.

For a personalized reading please DM me. And please leave a note it really helps me.

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PILE 3

Where will you meet them? 

Sjsjjs one thing that i want to say is that this pile is a mix of pile one and pile two lol. 

Okay so you guys can meet them when you could be leaving your place or changing houses. I'm seeing a new house and apartment for you. Alright so I'm also getting that your conversation might start off with an argument. They could be someone from your new neighborhood. You can meet them in winters . But I'm definitely seeing snow fall. Also you could be spending time by yourself or you could be lost in your thoughts at that time. They might offer you a helping hand first. Also for some of you, you could meet them while traveling. 

How will you meet them? 

Hmm I'm getting that you might be asking for direction or something like that. But I'm getting that they might respond very rudely or not respond at all, so this might start an argument for some of you. I'm getting that you might be in their property and they are very possessive about their goods or you could be using something that is theirs so again this might start an argument. But I get that in all these scenarios there could be a little argument or something. But this might take some time like meeting them. But they have a resting B face.

First impression of you :

Oh shit, this is definitely a enemies to lovers pile lol. Okay so at first you both might hate each other but after some time you two will see that you both are wrong about each other. They might see you as someone who hides themselves and don't show the real them. They might think that you always wear a mast and that they can't trust you. But they'll see that you're hardworking and are just surviving like them so they'll try to understand you. Something will happen that'll change their perspective of you. And also they might think that you're immature and childish.

 messages that might resonate :night, half moon, blue colors, snow , virgo, libra, cancer, White bird, dear / deer. Red

For a personalized reading please DM me. And please leave a note it really helps me.

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