#like its huge and so pretty but also feels so empty

[perfectblve]

ok ff16 thoughts since i finally finished it 70 hours later

[skeletalheartattack]

More kazooieposting because why not. What's your favourite stage theme?

let's see... with kazooie, it's probably clankers cavern because i just really like clanker. he's so cool and i like hanging out with him.

with tooie, while i feel like it's everyones favourite, it's gotta be witchy world. it's just such a fun world overall that it's hard to pick anything else.

[weasleyreidstyles]

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

[milkloafy]

HYDRO DRAGON, HYDRO DRAGON, DON’T CRY — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which wriothesley finally asks you out on a first date and neuvillette ruins it by crying over his pet goldfish. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, “ruined” first dates, hydro dragon is crying :c, mentions of sick pet fish trigger warning, gn!reader but they are wearing a sundress and makeup!!  ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.3k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: so on vacation i was out for a nice dinner in a dress and heels and then on the way back to the hotel, it started to storm. and it was windy so no umbrellas helped. and no cars there, only walking. and the roads were flooded so my feet were submerged in like dirt puddles and i was tripping over rocks i couldn’t see in high heels hahaah i was going thru it… but at least it spawned this idea ;-; pls enjoy !! also give neuvi a hug for me ok and me too we both need it t-t

Fontaine was a peculiar place to live in.

Most regions in Teyvat succumbed to the whims of the archons and elemental dragons, but in your experience, none were quite as inconvenient as the region of the hydro dragon.

The Iudex was a sensible and level-headed individual, but he had his moments like everyone else. But unlike everyone else, his sad moments impacted the whole area of Fontaine. 

Unluckily for you, one of Neuvillette’s sad moments happened to be when you were running late for your first date with Wriothesley. 

Wriothesley had messaged you saying he was at the restaurant already, and you were running down the streets of Fontaine to make sure you were too late for the reservation. It wasn’t your intention to be late, but the pressure of a first date set your nerves aflame and you ended up trying on your entire closet until you found the perfect outfit. You didn’t even want to think of the mess that awaited you when you returned home. 

Still, the hassle was worth it. In your eyes, at least. Your hair was styled to perfection, makeup touched up to look effortlessly pretty even though you spent over an hour on it, and the sundress you wore hugged your body in a way that showed your curves yet left the gaze wanting more. 

You were certain that once Wriothesley saw you, he definitely wouldn’t mind that you were a couple minutes late. 

As you turned the corner and saw the restaurant at the end of the street, you immediately perked up, tucking your hair behind your ear and preparing yourself for this date. You skipped on over to the store, but within a few steps of the way, the clouds turned an alarming shade of gray and an immediate downpour began. 

The water droplets were huge, leaving stains of tears on the pavement. The rain was indiscriminate, landing on both the buildings on the street, and the individuals walking around there. 

You blinked as you felt particularly large droplets land on your face, instantly knowing the makeup you worked so hard on would begin to wash off and smear in the rain. The water landed on your hair ruined how each strand was placed to perfection and your dress looked soggy and almost translucent. 

As if possessed, you sprinted to the restaurant and entered to take cover from the showers outside. The restaurant was dimly lit with chandeliers and candles on the tables, the tablecloths adorned with a vase of fresh flowers and empty wine glasses at the ready.

In other words, the place was much too fancy for your current state. 

Your eyes landed on Wriothesley, who immediately jumped out of his seat at the sight of you. He rushed over with a concerned look on his face, promptly removing his outerwear and draping it over your shoulders without second thought.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said meekly, feeling a shiver run down your spine as a cold breeze made its way into the restaurant. 

He shook his head, brushing your cold hair out of your face and grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket. “That’s the least of our concerns right now. Are you okay? It seems you are completely drenched.”

“I’m okay,” you sniffled, accepting his handkerchief and dabbing the water droplets off your face and neck. “It was just nice and sunny one minute, then gloomy and pouring the next.” 

A look of understanding crossed Wriothesley’s face as a dry chuckle escaped him. “The Iudex’s work, most likely.”

You nodded in agreement. “First, he encourages me to go on a date with you, then when it finally happens, he cries and ruins it all.” You sighed, but after a moment’s thought said, “I hope Neuvillette is alright. The rain seemed really bad with no build up or warning… I hate to use devices during a date, but is it okay if I message him to check in?” 

“Of course,” said Wriothesley, waving off any concerns you might have. As you got your communication device out from your purse, he placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the table. 

Y/N: neuvillette… why are you crying??? 

Y/N: is everything okay?

Neuvillette: Frederick wasn’t eating and seems to be floating up instead of swimming.

Neuvillette: I am concerned. 

Y/N: oh no!! :((( not your goldfish… do you want to ask sigewinne if she can help disgnose and cure him??

Neuvillette: I do, but I am too worried about leaving Frederick alone right now. 

Y/N: hmm…

Y/N: i’m supposed to be on a date with wriothesley right now :’( but i don’t want frederick to grow ill. 

Y/N: i’ll ask wriothesley to take me to the fortress of meropide and inform sigewinne!!

Neuvillette: During your date? You should be enjoying each other’s company. Frederick and I will be fine. 

Just then, you heard the downpour from outside grow even louder. You sighed, looking at Wriothesley apologetically. To his credit, he seemed to have the patience of a saint as he simply smiled encouragingly at you. 

Y/N: i’m sure neither wriothesley nor i could enjoy a date knowing our friend is in this much distress.

Y/N: we will go. don’t worry, neuvillette 

Neuvillette: I am sorry for the intrusion, but thank you. I appreciate it. As does Frederick. 

Clutching the handkerchief in your hands, you looked up at Wriothesley with concern etched on your face. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. “Neuvillette is worried about his goldfish, Frederick, being sick.”

Wriothesley frowned, his brows crinkling. “That is terrible.”

“I know! So, I may have offered that we go to Sigewinne and ask if she can help Frederick somehow,” you said sheepishly. “I know this isn’t how I expected our first date to be, but it seems urgent. I promise, I’ll make it up to you!” 

Standing up from his seat, he patted the top of your wet hair and shook his head. “Helping friends is important. Neither of us could have known Frederick would have complications right now— There is nothing you need to make up.” 

You nodded, but a guilty look still flooded your face. It wasn’t enough for you to be late to your first date with Wriothesley. Instead, you also showed up looking like a hot mess, and immediately cancelled the date within five minutes of being there. Fiddling with the buttons on the coat Wriothesley gave you, worry gnawed at your stomach. You were looking forward to going on a date with your long-time crush, and you would be devastated if this ruined all your chances. 

As if sensing your concerns, Wriothesley smiled and offered you his hand. Startled you looked up at him, slowly sliding yours into his. It was warm and dry, a stark contrast to your cold and damp ones. The heat enveloped you and you immediately felt your worries melting away. 

“I, for one, find it incredibly selfless of you to offer to help Neuvillette like this,” he said in admiration. “Your looks are not only beautiful, but your heart as well. So please, do not feel guilty at the change of plans. Let’s make the most of it. We can always have a fancy dinner date another night.” 

Your eyes widened, cheeks flushed at his compliments. “So, you’re saying I have a chance at another date?” 

Wriothesley chuckled, brushing the pad of his thumb across your knuckles. “It’s a guarantee, if you’ll have me, that is.”

“I’ll have you for as long as you’re offering!” you said in excitement, too happy to pay attention to the bashfulness creeping in at your words. 

“For you, I’ll always be offering,” said Wriothesley with a smile as he led you out of the restaurant and apologizing to the staff for the sudden cancellation. “Now, let’s go save Frederick.”

“Let’s do it!” 

[the-laughing-lunatic]

All 9 mercs w/ a reader who got them flowers! (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

(I recently got to 20 followers on this blog! :D I wanted to do a little something to celebrate that, so I grinded and wrote headcanons for all nine of the mercs. It, uh, took a while so I hope you enjoy!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

☆Scout - Daisies☆

Legitimately starts tearing up

Tries to blame it on the flowers

“I ain’t cryin’ I- I’m just allergic to flowers.”

“Oh, sorry, I could just return them then—”

“What? You’d hafta take ‘em out of my dead hands, I’m keepin’ em.”

Isn’t a huge flower guy but the fact you went out of your way to get them for him makes him feel all warm inside

Reminds him of when his mom would pick flowers to give to him after his Little League games

☆Soldier - Poppies☆

Would aggressively compliment you

“THESE ARE DAMN BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS MAGGOT!! I FEEL IMMENSELY LOVED AND APPRECIATED!!!”

Seriously though, he does

Since he was never allowed in the military he always felt jealous of the soldiers who got special flowers

But he wasn’t now, because you respected him

And if you did, that was enough

☆Pyro - Sunflowers☆

ABSOLUTELY LOVES THEM

Well, you can’t hear what they’re saying but the flappy hands and excited noises give you a decent idea

Will just spend hours holding them in their hands and looking at the flowers like they’re the most beautiful thing in the world

Draws sunflowers in all their drawings now

If they accidentally burned them they would get so sad and give you flowers back as a form of apology

Make flower crowns with them. Do it. 

☆Demoman - Bluebells☆

Like most of the mercs, he’s never gotten flowers before 

And he has no clue how to take care of them

“Thank ye, but, would ye consider showin’ me how to take care of them?”

Help this man out

Please

He would probably put them just on a table with no vase or water without you

Y’all would put the flowers in an empty bottle of scrumpy <3

☆Heavy - Violas☆

“Little merc has present for Heavy?” 

Surprised, but not so much as Sniper

Honestly the most chill about it out of all the mercs

He has sisters so he knows how to take care of flowers but he’s never been the one to receive them

Would press the flowers once the start to wilt and make bookmarks so he can keep them forever (sap)

And if he’s more protective of you during matches, who's to say the reason why?

☆Engineer - Bluebonnets☆

He sticks to the practical side of things, so when you give him a bouquet of flowers he’s utterly perplexed

He’s flattered of course, and thanks you greatly for the gift because he’s a Texas boy raised with manners

But he’s not used to pretty things and…doesn’t quite know what to do with them

He puts them in a vase with water but he finds himself stopping his work to look at them

They didn’t solve a problem, they didn’t hold a purpose yet people–including him now–seemed to love them

Eventually gives up trying to find a reason for it and just accepts it as they’re just pretty

Even though solving questions like “what is beauty” was never his forte, he’d somehow found an answer for it

And it was…well, you.

(He’d also 100% make you a flower out of scrap metal for you bc he’s a gentleman)

☆Medic - Cornflowers/Drosera Spatulata Sundew☆

There’s two flowers that he’d like

Cornflowers are one of his favorites, specifically the white ones (they remind him of Archimedes)

Not just because they are national flowers of Germany, but he also appreciates their medicinal properties

But if you somehow got your hands on a Drosera Spatulata Sundew he’d be pocketing you for months afterwards

Is absolutely fascinated with carnivorous plants and you get him carnivorous flowers???

The most romantic (or just super cool if platonic) thing in the world to him

Isn’t a botanist but he’ll be in the medbay all the time now just observing it and its reactions

He’s not sleeping for a while

He’d try to create a serum for whatever flowers you got him so they’d stay as beautiful as they are forever :)

☆Sniper - Wildflowers☆

No one has ever gotten him flowers before so when you show up at his camper van with hand picked flowers wrapped in twine he’s surprised, to say the least

Finds it interesting how he walked past those same flowers everyday and never cared

But when you gave them to him they felt…special.

Awkwardly mumbles a ‘thanks mate’ to you

Keeps them in an (UNUSED I REPEAT UNUSED) jar in his van

Smiles everytime he sees them

☆Spy - Roses☆

We all know this man is an old-fashioned lover boy so ofc he loves roses

But he’s never on the receiving end of them

So none are ever good enough for his high standards

“Eugh, where did you buy these, the gas station?”

Similar to Scout that if you say you could return them he’d absolutely refuse

Secretly thinks it’s really sweet 

Doesn’t act any differently towards you afterwards when he’s with you

But you find multiple bouquets of roses in your room and a note that says “if you ever consider buying me flowers again, buy roses from these boutiques instead of the trash you had before.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

(Putting in all the tags is another reason why I don't normally do all nine of them holy shit)

[brittle-doughie]

Well since you missed it, I’m gonna tell you my ask again and I hope you actually see it this time. Again, it’s a long one so it might need to be split up into multiple parts. (It also contains cannibalism so CW) Here’s an Idea for a Y/N Cookie Run fic. Y/N is a viscous, cannibalistic cookie with a sadistic, psychotic, and murderous, yet also elegant, (they not like an animal), personality. They are based of the Bloody Mary cocktail (but their name is, like, Tomato Juice Cookie because alcohol isn’t allowed to be mentioned in the word of Cookie run) and their design motif is based of of the Bloody Mary urban legend with a hint of evil spirits and vampirism. They are extremely strong in both physical strength and magic, so powerful that even the ancient cookies and Cookies of Darkness are at least somewhat intimidated by them, and are able to brainwash other cookies with their magic into becoming cannibals just like them (although a bit more brutal and messy because it entertains Y/N) and do their bidding. Y/N often likes to play with (aka torcher) their “food” before preparing and eating it.

Y/N part of the juice bar gang (which they have also hypnotized). They live in a huge, luxurious, yet somewhat decrepit old mansion, which they lure other cookies into before they torcher and consume them. Y/N’s other hobbies include painting and cooking (which is how they “prepare” their victims, they are quite sophisticated).

They used to be a witch (called Mary, of course) who ate children even after said act was considered taboo in the witch community. They were eventually were executed for their crimes via beheading. Before they died, they used their magic to come back as a cookie were they decided that “if I’m only allowed to feed on cookies and not human children, so be it😏”

I know it’s pretty long, you’ll probably have to split it into multiple parts. I hope you actually notice this one this time.

this ask was inspired by multiple Cookie Run cannibalism fanfics.

Tale of the Mansion

There lives a tale of a lonesome cookie, living in the hallways of the abandoned, yet glorious mansion on the hill. They say that on certain nights, you’ll hear the humming of this cookie on one of their nightly strolls, it is advised that you do not listen intently or you might find yourself being drawn to it.

The victim will feel their legs moving on their own before they realized, no hope to stop it now. Their mind will be entranced from this cookie’s elegant humming, a tune that non can resist. Fortunately for this cookie, this is what exactly they wanted to happen. It never hurts to have a companion on your walks, right?

Yet the legend tales that any cookie that follows this humming are not expected to return. Many cookies in the village keep their doors and windows closed for this reason, it wasn’t rare for this mysterious cookie to walk into town as an alternate path in their nightly stroll.

“Y/N Cookie (or Tomato Juice Cookie)…” was all one victim muttered before they followed them one night, this is all the village knew of their mysterious, yet terrifying visitor.

Maybe you do make it. You get to see the mansion in all of its pristine glory, the floors and tables looking freshly cleaned despite being abandoned for a long time. This cookie will ask you to sit and help yourself to the prepared food made for any visitors of their mansion. Do not worry if any of the food has an..odd texture to it, that’s just your mind letting you know that you’re quite hungry!

Do enjoy a refreshment from one of the mansion staff, Sparkling Cookie. He serves you a glass of sparkling refreshment as he leaned close to pour it into the cup, showing something…off with his eyes. They look…empty, don’t you think?

But don’t dwell on that for too long, it’s time for the entertainment as your host snaps their fingers and out comes Mint Choco Cookie playing a tune on their violin, it helps to calm your nerves from any sort of suspicious feeling! Just enough for you to not notice his empty eyes too…

Still anxious? Have no worry. The mansion’s green thumb, Herb Cookie, is here to help with that by smelling his plants! Doesn’t the fresh smell of recently planted greens help to settle you down? Good, because he won’t stop until you are! There’s nothing to worry about, you’re in the care of such a generous and wonderful host! They promise there’s nothing to be afraid of!

You excuse yourself to the restroom, which is directed to you down the hall. You slowly make your way over, getting unnerved by any small sound the mansion made.

A door creaking catches your eye, an ominous red light pouring out of the crack….

You’re tempted to go in, curiosity mixed with fear as you slowly poked your head into the room, it looked like a simple bedroom…curiosity eats at you and you enter the room fully….

You’ll come to regret it seconds later….

The paintings were the first thing you noticed. They painted many different cookies, some with normal expressions like a smile or a resting face. Others…painted more fearful and pained expressions, their heads looked like they were…removed from their bodies….It may have been the room light, but you swore the paintings dripped a little from their frames, as if it was…strawberry jam…

The numerous items like a spellbook, a witch hat, pitchforks, even a sort of..bathtub with a…substance nearly at the top.

The large painting above the painting. It was not a cookie featured in it, but rather…a witch. They oddly bared a resemblance to your host from earlier…

“Looks like another found out, huh? You really should’ve just went to do your business.”

You jump at the shockingly casual voice from behind you. Leaning at the doorway was Vampire Cookie, as he gently tip his glass of juice around and around.

“Y/N Cookie doesn’t like cookies that poke their eyes where they don’t belong. Good for them, just means dinner is server sooner then later…”

Vampire Cookie opens his eyes, revealing the same empty look as the others. You now could see Herb, Sparkling, and Mint Choco at the doorway too, their pinprick white irises creepily glowing in the dark. You step back away from them, asking what Vampire meant by that….

“You’ll see…or rather what you’ll don’t see..

You suddenly felt a sharp jab to your neck. A voice from behind you calls.

“A shame it had to end this way for you. I promise your dough won’t go to waste. Enjoy your rest here, because you won’t be waking up anytime soon…”

Your vision fades to black as you collapse, the many eyes at the doorway looking at you as the world plunged to darkness….

….

….

Another missing cookie reported in the village.

All the residents could do was honor their memory with a burial without a body and warn others with the tale of the mansion on the hill.

Whatever you do, do not listen to the humming to the forest or in the village late at night. For it will be a night that will never dawn for you…

[vivisviolets]

!⃣ Comfort PAC ~ ＊what you need to hear ＊ to help start your day ~＊

helloooo you can also find PACs like these on my insta and you can now get them all EARLY on my silly little ~* Patreon *~ okkk enjoy bye bloo bleeee~

*pile 1~!

~ Hi Pile 1s!! funny enough as I start typing I’m eating cereal- it's my 3pm breakfast pile 1!! 💀 yep maybe you can relate- but maybe not! because I actually see everyone here is a pretty easy early riser, at least during this time you’ve become very diligent. and I see the reason for that is related to job, career, and next steps involving that- and you’re becoming more diligent/rigid due to the stress of that, it feels like you’re “training” your body to be ready for more responsibilities…

~ That’s a HUGE shift pile 1, and I don’t want you to downplay it, it doesn't matter that people who have come before you have faced “more”, this is about you, your accomplishments, and what you’ve overcome up to this point- and remember!- you can’t have big accomplishments, without the smaller ones first. you guys are very sweet and compassionate people, and you need to offer a bit of that same grace and uplifting spirit you give everyone else. you all are also smartypants whether you agree or not, it’s a message coming through, that you guys are way smarter/brainy-er than you know or give yourself credit for. please lean into your confidence in your abilities, and the accomplishments you’ve already done (no matter how small) because that is your power. I love you pile 1s~ be proud of yourself!!! I’m so proud of you ♡ *pile 2~!

~ Ok so you’re pissed, or someone here is- Hello Pile 2s, what’s going on tonight? I feel like I’m answering a crisis hotline call. I feel like you picked this pile because you’re in a state of, not “needing” per se, but really wanting some love. some comfort, from someone, is that right? this could be you wanting love/comfort from a specific person, I’m feeling heavily this could be your mom, very feminine energy here- or maybe you’re in a feminine energy of wanting love from someone you view as a “protector”, this could even be someone who reminds you of a parental guardian that you’re thinking of (this could be a romantic partner or a platonic one!)... a lot of chaos/anxiety swirling within you, you could be in a fight with someone- something has happened where your vibrational energy has taken a huge low swing.

~ What to say, my loves. my dearest pile 2s. your feelings are valid. you’ve been through more than I wish to describe here in this reading. so where to go from here?... -how can you expect someone to love you when you do not love yourself?<-- wow- that was a strongly worded message that came through, and I do not agree with its harshness- but it is true... you are deserving of love and care and empathy no matter where you are, but you must put yourself first- you are blocked, and the way to become unblocked in your life, is you must show yourself that love first, that safety, that compassion. similar to “you can’t give from an empty cup”, you can’t receive coming from an empty cup as well. it will feel like it is never enough... you have to be giving to yourself along with receiving from people you trust... balance is important to you and your anxiety right now! equal giving to yourself (having alone time/self-activities) and then reaching out and interacting w/ those you trust. ok my pile 2s, I’m going to leave you with this messages right here. this is just a period in your life. let it flow. it’s going to ALL be ok. ♡ ♡ ♡ *pile 3~!

~ You guys are so cute I can’t stand it- oh Hi Pile 3s!! I literally gasped entering your energy space- and I had a hard time concentrating on keywords at first- some of you here were born in the year of the rat 🐀 - or you guys just have mouse energy to you 🐭, especially in your friends eyes. you tend to collect a lot of little trinkets don’t you? and you’re also all over the place- is that right? your energy is excitable and thus you have a hard time focusing- am I right??? yea I’m right. ~ you honestly aren’t doing anything wrong- good for youuu that might even come as a relief to hear for you... however not to get messy but I just got a falsely made violation notice on insta, gave me a heart attack but anyway-... there might be a slight shock of some kind coming your way and thus I will be using this part not just as comfort but as a reminder of your strength of character- don’t you ever change, for anyone.- self-improvement aside!! I don’t care who this person is, your mama, your dad returning from 7 years ago, your knight in shining armor- do not fit in- in an effort to get yourself somewhere. or to make someone else see your value/treat you well. you deserve that sish already- all you have to do is work on your goals and be yourself- and if you wanna swing on the playground for a couple of hours I say go for ittt!!!! love you pile 3sss I like your spark and your sparkle, don’t change it ✨♡ *consider tipping me just 1$ for early access to all my mini pacs, showing me support, and some other goodies~ i would be incredibly grateful to you and I'll think about you before i fall asleep 😴~♡

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! this show made me cry and made me think everything will be ok and life is beautiful (I'm a 21 yo adult 🎀🙍‍♀️)

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love, vi~♡

[divinesolas]

Admirer

r.q: Hello! I love your writing! And especially when you wrote the Aegon x f!reader where the reader is shy and it’s all just cute and stuff. could you write something similar with Aegon x f!reader where the reader is again shy but has a huge crush on him? Like she’s a high born lady and secretly writes him letters and leaves stuff in his chamber like for example his favorite wine she saw him drinking, flowers, fruit and other things. Aegon doesn’t know who it is from because the two never talked. But once happens that when she’s putting again some gift into his chamber he catches her. Then some smut if you would be comfortable writing it and eventually he marries her and everything? Because Aegon feels appreciated and loved finally from someone. I want our Aegon to feel some love. Thank you!

w.c: 1.2k

c.w: highborn!f!reader, angsty aegon, kinda corny aegon, proposal ?, no actual smut but heavily implied, DRABBLE !! not proofread

a.n: will prob expand on this in the future bc i love this idea a lot but for now i hope this drabble is good <33

‘you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen i look for you in every room i enter’

‘My affections know no bounds when it comes to you’

‘I hope you shall smile to my prince for your smile is the most glorious sight’

‘you make my heart race and soar’

It had been over a month since the beginning of him receiving gifts each day, each attached with a small love letter to him. He had no clue where these letters and gifts were coming from. when he brought it up to his mother she shook her head and said she had no idea along with questioning some of the handmaidens who also had no idea. it was like a ghost, everyday around the same time late at night he would enter his room and a new gift would be there.

He had thought he was being pranked, that the karma from his past jests was finally catching up to him and he was finally being punished. there was no way someone truly felt this way about him, nobody looked for him in any room, nobody enjoyed seeing him smile. they had to be pranking him and he was very determined to catch you, because you continued to jest with him knowing his favorite wine his favorite desserts for gods sake you had even left him some bandages one time after he had been walking around with a cut on his cheek from an accident.

He was now determined to catch you, to stop this foolish game, to stop himself from thinking it was even real, but he had no clue how to even catch you, you were like the wind and he had no bases to even start from.

He had spent yet another day running around searching for any sorts of signs about this mysterious person and came up empty handed once more. He had been back earlier than usual, when he pushed open the door to his room he stood frozen in shock as the girl in front of him squealed, dropping the plate of cranberry pie on the ground.

He couldn't recognize her, he could tell by her nicer dress however that she had to be from some important family, his eyes fell to the table in which you were standing next to and he noticed a small note. It had been you. the person who was leaving him all these gifts and notes.

“What is your name?” Shaking her head unable to lift her head to look at him, “i am so sorry my prince i-” “Your name?” You give him your name and he rolls it off his tongue easily, testing it out. He quickly closes the door and makes his way swiftly to stand next to you before grabbing you chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Who put you up to this?” A confused look finds its way to the girls face and she shakes her head, “nobody my prince?” the statements ends with a question, unsure of what he even means in the first place.

He takes a second to admire your name, your eyes, every detail of your skin and for a second he hopes its real and that a pretty girl like you truly liked him. “then why have you been leaving me gifts?” he expects you to finally admit it now, that you had simply been toying with him.

You had been helaenas lady in waiting for almost two months now and it had been some of the best times you’ve ever had. The princess is kind, the people are kind enough but what really is a blessing is getting to see Aegon almost everyday. Ever since you first arrived in the keep you had kept your eyes on him, you had thought he was the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Despite how much you wanted to you couldn't find the courage to go up to him and introduce yourself. Being a member of the great house tyrell you should have this great confidence about you but you never were able to be as outspoken as your siblings so if you really wanted to express yourself you decided you would have to get creative.

You figured out he was always out of his room and the maids weren't in his room during a very specific hour of the day and had just decided it would be easier to now have to face him to give him notes of your affections. but today the prince had come back to his room earlier than he usually did leaving you in this situation. You hadn't figured out what you were gonna say because you had never even really planned on telling him it was you.

“I just rather like you a lot my prince.”

Ever since then he had basically been glued to your side, followed you around everywhere and begged you to join him for meals. It was odd. you had gone from him never speaking to him to him wanting to see you every moment of the day.

One night in particular you had not seen him all day oddly enough and you don't expect to see him, until you’re sitting in front of your mirror preparing for bed when you hear knocking on your door.

You have no clue who could be coming here so late but when you open your door you barely get a look at him before he walks past you and heads straight to your bed laying face down on it.

“My prince?”

He groans and just rubs his further into your pillow. You walk over carefully and place your hand on his lower back. “Is something wrong?”

“missed you.” He hums as you begin to rub up and down his back, “i missed you too my prince.”

“They kept me from you all day.” He pauses for a moment and when he begins to speak his voice is laced with venom. “They want me to marry some bitch from the north.” You pause, your heart breaking into a million pieces as you think about him going off and marrying someone that's not you. “oh…”

He sits up, looking at you with cloudy eyes, you can now smell the wine on him, “I told them no. That i would marry nobody.” you look down at your lap as he moves closer to you, laying his head on your lap. “Nobody if it was not you”

“my prince?” You whisper at him as he presses his cheek against your naked thighs, your night gown having ridden upwards “your father thought it was a wonderful idea. my mother was so mad i thought she was going to smack me in front of them all.” Your breath gets caught in your throat as he grabs your hand and presses it against his cheek. “My prince?” “Call me Aegon my love.”

“what are you saying?” He looks up at you, grabbing you neck and pulling you down so your facing are right next to each other, “marry me.”

“Why?” Mirroring his own question that had been asked not too many moons ago, he looks at you with a wide grin as his eyes drift to your lips, “I guess i just rather like you my love.”

He presses his lips against yours and hums forcefully shoving his tongue in your mouth in a heated kiss. You fall back with him on top of you, his hands sliding to your thighs to push up your night gown to your stomach completely exposing you to him. His fingers lightly rub against your folds “Aegon,,” “Allow me to show you how much i love you.”

[yellowdribble]

Thinking about micro/macro omorashi scenerios~

I’ve seen a couple people touch on the subject, but in general I think micro/macro omorashi is kind of an untouched goldmine

Obviously there’s so much potential for a micro character to get desperate in a world that’s too big for them

(Someone may have done this one- I don’t remember- but sharing anyway) A fairy or other small micro getting captured in a jar by a macro character and getting increasingly desperate while in their clear glass confinement that offers absolutely no privacy. also imagine the macro being kinda mean and shaking the jar on purpose to torture the micro eventually making them wet

Maybe a micro character that got stuck in a macro world unexpectedly- and this guy is the type to never pee outside or any unusual places. He will ONLY pee in a toilet thank you very much. So he gets taken in by a macro character and when the need arises, he attempts to use the ginormous toilet that’s in the macro house. Unfortunately he falls in and almost drowns. So now he’s too terrified to use the toilet, but too stubborn to explore other options of relieving himself. So the next time he needs to pee, he just holds it. obviously he cant hold it forever though.

There could also be the simple fear wetting- a micro encounters a macro and is absolutely terrified at seeing such a huge monstrous being! So scared that maybe at first they don’t notice that warm patch growing in their pants

A friendly macro who carries a micro in their pocket, but one day the micro is super desperate, but too shy to let the macro know. So micro is just bouncing around in this giants pocket, feeling every giant footstep and gripping their crotch for dear life. Eventually they can’t take it any more. They start to leak, and then those leaks turn to spurts and eventually their bladder just gives in and empties. The macro is confused as to why their pocket with their tiny friend is starting to get warm and wet.

A macro finds a micro character, and omg they’re so cute!! The micro is just like a little doll! You can put them in cute little doll clothes and have a tea party, and this doll actually will drink the tea and make conversation back. When the tea party is over, the macro can just put the micro in their doll house. After all everything is just the right size, right?

Unfortunately all that very real tea makes its way to the micros very real bladder, and when they run to the dollhouse bathroom desperate to go- they find that when they open the lid to the toilet- there’s no place to actually pee in! There’s not even a hole under the lid, it’s one of those cheap plastic toy furniture items that just has a sticker to give the impression of something being there. Now where are they supposed to pee?

The micro tries to hold it until their macro friend comes back, but will they make it in time?

Will the macro return to a wiggling living doll who’s squirming around doing their best not to make a mess of their pretty clothes or the pretty dollhouse

Or will they come back to a micro who’s already wet with tears streaming down their face

Micros are always the obvious choice as an omo victim, but I was also thinking…what if we reverse it?

Anyone who’s read Gulliver’s Travels is familiar with the scene where Gulliver puts out a fire with his pee

What if we had a macro who’s gotta pee, but there’s no fire to put out. Instead, if they did pee- it would actually cause damage to the town of micro people they’ve found. (You don’t wanna flood the streets and drown the townsfolk with a massive golden tsunami)

So while they’re visiting their tiny friends they just gotta hold it- and being the only giant it’s kinda hard to hide your potty dance from prying eyes

[zerobaseone-zhanghao]

Hello! I hope it's okay to request, I never requested before. But May I please request Dominant Bada fucking her needy gf in the dance studio with her strap after practice or like they sneak off during practice? And maybe they end up getting caught and Bada is just all smug while her gf is a shy flustered mess, especially since Bada is still deep inside her, with no plans of stopping?

knee deep in pussy

t/w: smut, dom!bada & sub!reader, mommy kink, voyeurism, you can wait to see which bebe member I chose 😉

a/n: hii thank you for your request, it’s a great one!! I hope you like it <3

=====================================

Bebe are currently in one of the studios at JustJerk working on their routines for a festival that is coming up. One thing to note about bebe is that they have 8 members and two of them are dating. The leader Bada and you.

You notice that while you’re practicing that Bada is being pretty clingy, “are you okay?” You ask Bada who’s hugging you from behind with her head on your shoulder “I’m okay baby girl”.

“Let’s take a 10 minute break” Bada tells the group and everyone splits to grab some food and water.

“Let’s go babe” she whispers in your ear “we’ll be back in 10 guys” Bada tells the group before pulling you with her to an empty studio across the hall.

“What’s happening?” You ask, “shut up” Bada tells you before kissing you passionately. You break apart for some air “wha-“ “strip” she demands. Your girlfriend is extremely sexy when she’s dominant so you spare no time and quickly strip naked.

Bada pushes you back so you fall onto the couch and she grabs your hand leading to cup her pussy when you realise that it’s not, it’s her strap. You get a fuzzy feeling of excitement but also nerves, she knows how you get when she pulls out the strap.

Bada strips down very slowly, teasing you as she knows how much you love her body “hurry up bada please” “what the fuck did you just call me?!” “Sorry mommy”

“Be a good girl and suck on it” she straddles over you, lining the strap up with your mouth. You do as she says and take the strap in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. She abruptly pulls it out and moves away, giving you a little peck on the lips before slamming the strap into you. You very nearly let out a scream but Bada knew what was about to happen and covered your mouth. “Don’t make me gag you” “I’ll keep quiet mommy”.

She continues to slam into you and tears are rolling down your face, the sounds your making aren’t even coherent anymore, it’s a mix of moans, whimpers, whines and begs. Bada has a huge smile on her face, she’s enjoying every second of it.

You’re being really loud, you honestly don’t remember how many times Bada has told you to be quiet so of course neither of you hear the creak of the door as it opens.

“umm unnies, 10 minutes is long gone, we’ve been waiting for you” the mystery girl quietly says, shocked at what she’s seeing. Bada looks at the wide eyed girl smugly “come in Minah, don’t be shy” “can I?” She asks waiting for Bada’s permission “come in, get a comfy seat and enjoy the show, tell the others that she had an accident and got a bit wet so she’s showering” she tells Minah looking down at you “a bit wet? more like very wet” Minah says smirking “you know it” Bada replies.

During this whole conversation Bada never stopped and you’ve not been able to say a word, you’re slowly losing your mind. You didn’t even notice Minah coming over, she nods to Bada for approval and sits at your head, lifting your head onto her knees and stroking your hair. It’s a sweet gesture and very contrasting to what Bada is currently doing. You’re sobbing and your moans are so loud, you’re practically screaming, Minah keeps stroking your hair and shushing you, trying to calm you down.

Your arm reacts on its own and slaps Bada’s arm to signal that you need to cum really badly. Bada decides to be nice to you since you currently look like you’ve been dragged through a bush and she allows you to cum. Bada is amazed, this is probably the biggest orgasm she has ever seen you have, and she’s seen them a lot. Minah is also amazed, Bada scoops some of your cum onto her finger lifting it to Minah’s mouth letting her try you.

“You taste amazing” Minah tells you, still continuing to stroke your hair to bring you down from your high and gives you a kiss on the lips. She quickly realised what she did and looks up to Bada who just laughs, she isn’t really bothered by it. You just lie there fully exhausted and Bada texts the bebe group chat just telling the members to go home. You, Bada and Minah all cuddle and they both help to clean you up. You had no idea that Minah was even in the room until you came to your senses again “wait what? she was in the room the whole time?” Bada and Minah just laugh at your confusion. “You did so well for us babe” Bada tells you, giving you a hug “maybe you can do just as well for Minah next time” wait ‘Minah’?! ‘Next time’?!

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[learnastrowallura]

💚The Second House in astrology💚

We're back!! See part 1 here

All information presented here is from the ytb channel The Astrology Podcast (Chris Brennan) and from the book The Twelve Houses: Exploring the Houses of the Horoscope by Howard Sasportas and I will apply the knowledge on my 2nd house placements as well!!

Rate of importance based on angular triads: medium

2nd house: values, possessions, finances, attributes, assets, substance, ability, worth, safety, security ,money, ressources, income, the material, the tangible, the concrete, the physical manifestation/form, succedent, wealth, support, structure, stability, food, desire

The second house describes our money habits/psychology and how we view our finances (scarcity mindset for example); whether we save and save and save and never spend, or if we're flexible for example and have no problem spoiling ourselves sometimes+ financial priorities

It can also represent HOW we make money; if it is in a more traditional or modern way, would it fluctuate with time or stay fixed and stable etc as well as our money situation/how easy or hard it is for us to actually make and keep money

Adding to that, the sign that is in our second house could very well represent what makes us feel emotionally safe and secure, since the second house describes security as a whole not just financially speaking

Planets in your 2nd house are indicators of your potential money making skills and so one should definitely pay attention to them (if 2nd house is empty look at ruler of sign that is in 2nd house); sign, house and aspects matter as well

Personal example: I have Sagittarius in my second house and looking at its ruler which is JUPITER which I have in Libra in 11th house, I can definitely see that there I have money making potential in relation to that because I've always been quite a loyal and diplomatic friend, so for example for me cooperating with a close friend or even working in a friend's company might bring me some luck in money matters. Another way to interpret it would be using that Libra charm/energy to attract an audience/fanbase and go with that route. Either way it's a pretty cool placement to have tbh

And then I have Pluto and Mercury in my 2nd house, both in Sagittarius and I have to admit that the Pluto placement made me quite nervous at first because it COULD describe ups and downs money wise, but it could also imply just like one huge financial transformation which would be the kinder interpretation for sure

With Mercury it is obvious that whatever I have to say or write or teach someone could be something that I can monetize; but the interesting thing that I have noticed is that there is a conjunction aspect between the two planets in my second house and I've interpreted that as what I have to say (Mercury) could very well be impactful/trigger a transformation in people (Pluto) and thus affect my finances which goes with my Jupiter in 11th house as well+ Pluto is power so that's some food for thought I suppose

Comment down below your 2nd house sign, planets and aspects

I hope you enjoyed reading this post <3

Paid readings open

Masterlist

x

[alomone]

Hurt/comfort with brahms x m reader

You can decide what it's about but I just need reader and brahms on a bed, brahms on top of reader like a weighted blanket and damn he's heavy and damn is he huge in comparison to you, but you fit togther so perfectly and his hair is so soft (reader has forced him to shower ofc)

Or like brahms huge ass body sitting on readers lap, and its not even like reader is petite or anything, hes a well built man, its just hilarious how brahms cuddles a man smaller than him all the while he sits on his lap

: ̗̀➛ Holding you

Brahms heelshire x male reader

CW : Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past relationship that ended badly

Words : 776

Author's note : Thank you for the request I really appreciate it :3

The days had been going pretty slowly for the past week, and you were bored out of your mind, you had finished most of the task on the list for Brahms for the moment. It wasn't that late enough to go to bed yet so you waited in the living room, a random book in your hands with an interesting title. Brahms was off to one of the many windows, looking out in the garden, watching the birds.

He had found a certain interest in watching them a few weeks earlier, he was still his old self, refusing to go out or that you go out of the house, it was also always taking a long time to persuade him to take a shower. It has always been like this ever since he first showed himself to you.

You suddenly heard your phone ringing, Brahms jumped at the sound and turned his head toward the table where it was placed. Getting up from the couch, you went over to grab your phone and answer the unexpected call, wandering who could call you.

When you saw the number on the screen, you almost dropped your phone, not expecting them to call you after your break up. You hesitated before answering, maybe it was important. Brahms couldn't hear what was said on the caller's side, but he could feel and hear you getting mad and it was not pleasant to hear that.

"You can't and won't have me back. I'm not an object that you can own for some times and threw away when you don't want it again! I stopped loving you some times ago already. Stop calling me. I'm serious." You almost shouted, trying to hold back your anger towards your ex-partner. It wasn't easy for you, you two had been together for a while when what felt like coming out of nowhere, your partner broke up with you.

You had been so surprised, and heart broken at the time that you felt like your life had stopped for some times, feeling like an empty shell. Now you felt better, you had a job that you liked and most of all, you had Brahms. Your life with him was something else, truly, you felt way better than when you were with your ex.

Brahms, hearing you getting mad, got away from the window and approached you, not knowing what to do he went and slowly placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly as he felt you raising your voice at your ex.

"Don't call me back." You finally said before hanging up the phone; you placed it back on the table and turned back towards Brahms, you sighed while looking in his eyes, almost searching for something in them. "It's okay, Brahms, I just need to calm down for a bit, yeah?" he tilted his head towards you, making the forehead of the mask touched yours, closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

"Let's go upstairs?" You proposed to him, gently taking his hand in yours as you started heading towards the stairs, he followed you without a word, as always. You ended up sitting on your bed, Brahms stayed up, watching you, you lifted your arms and slowly grabbed his waist, making him take a step towards you.

"I'm happy that you're here." you whispered to him, keeping your hands on him and holding him close to you, he ended up on your lap to be even closer. You felt like you could stay like this for hours on end, having him close to you always felt comforting. A sigh left your lips as you leaned your head against his chest. "I love having you here with me, Brahms, it's nice."

He hummed softly and cupped your face with his hands, making you look directly into his eyes. You looked at Brahms for a few seconds there, you saw the worry in his eyes and you felt bad for it. "It's going to be okay, Brahms, I promise. I'm not angry anymore," You said calmly to him as you couldn't help let your hand wander in his hair, slowly caressing his scalp. "You are my only priority here, not him, not anymore." You tried to never lie to Brahms, not once, you were a man of your words and it was important for you that he trusted you fully.

You and Brahms spent most of the evening like this, in each other's arms, enjoying the proximity and the warmth of the embrace. Not seeing the time go by as you forgot about the chores that you needed to do and your horrible ex.

[nighttimedemon]

There is one ship in Hazbin that many have labeled ‘boring’ or ‘uninteresting’, and that is the canon relationship between Charlie and Vaggie. Chaggie is currently the only sapphic relationship in the Hellaverse, which is sad for a show that gets praise for its LGBT representation [even though the representation is gay/Achillean heavy].

Charlie and Vaggie are comfortable around each other. Vaggie even called Charlie 'sweetie', and they share a bed together. When Charlie was upset in EP 7, she laid on Vaggie's side even though she was upset at her.

In episode 3, Charlie put Vaggie in trust exercises and Vaggie is clearly uncomfortable with being put on the spotlight. Vaggie is clearly stuck to Charlie's hip like glue stuck to paper.

Charlie has an issue with reading people, like it's pretty bad. After everything went to shit. Vaggie said some alarming things like "What's the point of me", "I'm supposed to make your dreams a reality", and "I'm supposed to protect you". Vaggie does not value herself and lives and does anything for Charlie. Vaggie does not have a purpose outside of her girlfriend.

In 'Whatever it Takes", Vaggie's section is all about her dedication to Charlie and spending the rest of her life being Charlie's partner. To Vaggie, Charlie's dreams are also her dreams.

At the end of the day, Charlie did apologize to Vaggie for putting all of that pressure on her and saying that they work as a team.

In episode 6, Charlie and Vaggie go to heaven. Yippee for Charlie but un-yippee for Vaggie. I rarely talk about plot holes, but Charlie thinks her girlfriend is a Sinner, did she ask for a special pass for Vaggie so she can come into Heaven? Whatever.

Anyway, since we are up in Heaven, Adam's stomping grounds - of course he shows up and the plot twist no one saw coming was the Vaggie is an angel, but not just any type of angel, she was an Exorcist!! *Pretends to be shocked*

The reveal feels empty and hollow like a dead tree. Vaggie being an angel is a fine concept, it just annoys me that we see Vaggie's backstory though Adam. The Hellaverse has an small issue with backstories of woman is through of the eyes of a man [We see Loona's backstory through Blitz's eyes, not her own.]

I wish Vaggie said something when Adam made strange comments about Charlie. He calls Charlie "Lilith's little hottie', congrats her on dating Charlie [I like Adam, that line makes him come off as weirdo holy shit] and "bitch" to her face, but Vaggie stays silent. She does give him a death glare when he says, "Hot as fuck though". Vaggie does anything for Charlie but does not say shit when someone is disrespecting her.

During the trial, Adam keeps his promise of blackmailing Vaggie by putting on her the spotlight, but Vaggie acts like a folding chair and runs off. I find it odd that Charlie did not question why Adam called Vaggie out, from Charlie's perspective this is the first time Adam and Vaggie met each other. Charlie does not even try to go after her to make sure she is okay, she knows Vaggie dislike being put on blast.

During 'You didn't Know', Adam being a petty bitch that he is reveals that Vaggie is an angel like him and Lute because Charlie dare compare him to sinners. This left Charlie in shambles, for like two seconds. Vaggie does comfort Charlie before Adam just sent them back to Hell, like okay.

In episode 7, Charlie starts venting to Alastor [his ass is not listening] about Vaggie keeping this huge secret from her and to Rosie, a person she just met that day instead of talking it out with Vaggie. Like what happened after they return to Hell? There could have been a scene in episode 6 after arriving back, Vaggie tries to explain to herself but fails and Charlie just runs away not wanting to hear any of it.

I do not blame Vaggie. Think about it, her whole world changed in a flash after being attacked by Lute, being left her dead, a demon, a group of people she was brainwashed to hate for who knows how many years saves her, she later finds out that the demon who saved her is the Princess of Hell who wants to redeemed sinners to put an end to the activity she [Vaggie] was a part of and killed sinners in the thousands. What would have been the right moment to tell Charlie all of that?

Back to Charlie and Rosie, Charlie thinks that everything Vaggie did for her was just lies and does not know how to feel, thinking it was a horrible for her to think that way. Charlie loves her and she knows that Vaggie loves her too. Rosie does have a point on maybe Vaggie is trying to redeem herself after taking a part of the Exterminations. Vaggie's dedication to Charlie and her dreams is mixed with the guilt about her being an exorcist angel.

Back to Vaggie, 'Out of Love' is such out of place song. Like Vaggie is motivated through her love of Charlie, she does anything for her. What is the vengeance? Her getting back at Lute for attacking her When she saw Lute in the hotel room, they just glared at each other and did not speak to each other until Episode 8.

Charlie and Vaggie met outside of the hotel and Charlie gifts her a shrunken head keychain and they hugged it out. They should have had a conversation in the hotel where Vaggie could have told Charlie how her life was back in Heaven and explain herself why she kept her angelic roots a secret.

In episode 8, Charlie is back in shambles because Adam and exorcists are going to burn that hotel to the ground. Vaggie makes Charlie feel better sings a reprise of 'More Than Anything' and they kiss. I stated this in past but 'More Than Anything' should be a song shared between Charlie and Lucifer. I am glad in Season 2; they are getting their own song to share.

Is Chaggie a toxic relationship? No. Not in a long shot. They clearly love each other deeply.

Is their relationship built off of a lie? Kind of. Yes, Vaggie did not tell Charlie about her past about being an exorcist. Charlie should have question if Vaggie was trying to sabotage her dreams due to being one but that did not happen. Vaggie wants Charlie's dream to came true and does everything for her to make sure that happens.

Is Chaggie one sided? Yes. Vaggie is always comforting Charlie and not the other way around. You should comfort your partner when they are feeling down, but Charlie never does it for Vaggie. She tries in episode 3 but just leaves. Giving your partner space is also important but the stuff Vaggie said was worrying. When seeing Vaggie afterwards, Charlie does not bring up those self-comments and when Husk flat out says that Vaggie hates herself, Charlie says nothing or tries to comfort her.

Charlie will be getting on her separate analysis; I am going to focus on Vaggie. Vaggie does not have any friends and only interacted with Charlie before the hotel was started making her very codependence on Charlie. This was probably done on purpose, if so, I hope this is this mentioned in Season 2 on how Vaggie follows Charlie like a lost ducky. I am not saying Vaggie does not have a personality, she is a bit of a hot head but is a caring and kind person. I just wish she saw her interacted with other characters and had conversations that had nothing to do with Charlie.

Chaggie is not a boring or bad ship, it is pretty alright for Hellaverse standards. it just does not get a lot of focus in the show and in the fandom. When the Chaggie merch dropped back in June, some fans were asking for Huskerdust merch.

I saw people saying the ship would have been better if Vaggie and Charlie were not dating at first and get together later on. I disagree with that, fandoms in general have a problem with tossing canon relationships to the side if the characters are already together before the series start. We do not need to see the characters feel in love all the present time especially queer ones.

To end off this post, I cannot wait until Season 2 and where it will take their relationship.

[cheolinnie]

Feel Me

Requested!!!

a/n: he's so... perfect 😭

smut

a/n: i didnt propery proof read cuz i really want this to be published ~(>_<。)

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON!!

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

You've always been a supportive girlfriend; you attend all the concerts, music shows on your days off from work, and not once have you ever complained about Taeyong's job, because you know how hard he's worked for where he is today, and how much he loves his job.

But every once in a while, you throw that huge part of yourself out the window.

It's the times when you have to come home to an empty apartment, sleep in a big ass bed all alone, watch boring tv shows that Taeyong always finds a way to spice up with his jokes- its the only part of his career that fills you up to the brim with frustration.

Because aside from missing his warmth, and his overall prescence around you, his abscence also leaves you sex deprived.

"Fucking tour," you mutter angrily as your eyebrows crease together, your body desiring pleasure that your fingers just aren't bringing you right now.

"Fucking idol career," your middle finger teases your entrance as it circles around it, but honestly you're feeling a little hopeless because no matter how hard you can try and fuck yourself, it'll never compare to Taeyong's slender fingers, lenghty cock, or sinful tongue.

But still, you try; thumb rubbing over your clit, you push one finger in slowly. A soft gasp leaves your lips, and you give youself sometime to feel it, get into it, but- nothing.

"Oh for fucks sakes-"

A sound like a groan mixed with a high-pithched, frustrated, squeal leaves your throat as you roughly flip youself onto all fours on the queen-sized bed, the black comforter already all messed up becuase of all the squirming you were doing earlier.

Grabbing Taeyong's pillows, you position the bottom one on its side underneath you, the edge sending a shiver down your side as it brushed your sensitive clit. The top pillow, the one that still held his delicious scent (and the one you've been cuddling and sobbing into for the past week), you place where you imagine Taeyong's head would be as you ride his dick.

All that's left is hearing that raspy, sultry, sexy voice of his that could turn you on like the flip of a switch.

By the time he answers you'd already been riding the pillow harshly, hands gripping the sheets beneath you tightly.

"Hey babe-"

"Fuck Taeyong!" you moan out loudly, partly annoyed he took so long to answer, and also relieved you could finally hear his voice.

There's rustling on the line, and you imagine he's scrambling around for a quiet place becuase just those two words you moaned out, already has him rock hard in his pants. You wonder if he's wearing leather pants, because damn, those are suffocating, especially for someone like your boyfriend who gets very sensitive when he's got a boner.

"Shit baby- what if i was on the speaker phone and the guys heard you moaning like that? hm?"

Your head shaked as if he could see you, whimpers filling his ear the most definately have his eyes rolling to the back of his head in bliss.

"Tae, want you, need you so bad right now..." you rock yourself on his pillow, dipping down to burry your head into his other pillow to deeply inhale his scent.

The line was quiet for a while, and you just know he was palming himself over his pants at your whiney tone. He always liked when you whined, but his favourite? When he fucks you so good, tears start pouring down your pretty flushed cheeks.

It drives him insane; the thought alone could make him cum immediately.

"Baby? Are you riding your pretty cunt on my pillow, like i told you to do when your horny, hm?" his voice dropped several octaves lower, and you were able to soft gasps from him that just made your head spin.

"Ye-yes Tae... fucking your pillow right now, can almost feel your cock filling me up."

A groan sounds out from the speaker, "Fuck baby, im filling you up so good yeah? like I always do hm?

Nodding your head hastily, you moan out as your pace increases, Taeyong's words edging you towards the release you desperatley need.

"Can you feel me, angel?"

"Fuck yes Tae, can feel myself clenching around you..."

Another curse from your boyfriend, followed by a couple of lovely moans that bring your ears so much joy. Closing your eyes, you can imagine him alone, still standing but leaning against a wall, one hand stuffed into his pants as he strokes himself, fingers grazing over his tip that was leaking pre-cum, as the other hand clutched the phone tightly against his ear so that your moans could be the only thing he hears.

"Taeyongie." your voice was deeper, signaling that you're about to say something that might just make him cum straight away in his cargos.

"Can you feel me? My lips kissing your pretty tip before I take you into my mouth, sucking and licking up all your sweetness..."

There it was- Taeyong's knees buckled, and he had to catch himself before he slid down the wall.

"Fuck baby, fuck... are you gonna cum for me? you gon' make a mess all over my pillow for me?"

You throw your head in pleasure, your knot just mere seconds from from exploding as your fuck Taeyong;s pillow, your legs beginning to feel numb and shaky.

"Yea... gonna cum baby."

The raspy groan he let's out is what inevitably makes you burst, your orgasm washing over you like the walls of the world's biggest dam breaking open. The loudest moan leaves your lips, and that very sound, as it reaches Taeyong's ear, is what has him cumming in his hand painfully hard.

"Holy fuck-"

For a few minutes it's only both yours and Taeyong's heavy breathing, each of you trying to come down from your highs.

Taeyong is the first to break silence.

"You better send me a picture of the mess you made on my pillow."

A classic Lee Taeyong line, and like always it has you dropping your head as giggles pour out. One of your favourite things about your boyfriend, is that he always finds a way to make you giggle like a school girl after having just pounded into you like a madman mere minutes ago- it was somewhat endearing to him.

"Yeah? for what would you use it bub?" you smirk slightly as you pull on your shorts before snapping a picture so you could dump the pillowcase into the washing machine.

He scoffs. "Uh, to help me jerk off later? I still have another two weeks without my baby."

A heavy sigh leaves your chest as you toss the case into the washer, a frown forming on your lips. "Don't remind me please."

"Don't worry hun, becuase as soon as i get back I'll strap you to my thighs, and you'll get to ride me and feel me all night long..."

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

a/n: WOAHHHH lets take a step back for a moment.

this is by far the longest thing ive written, i think im gonna have to take a break from writing smuts cuz damnnnnn

a/n: yall sorry for any spelling mistakes

[slavicviking]

Long Jump, Huge Leap

wc: 5k | Pre-Season 3 steddie

[Ao3]

Whoever said Eddie Munson doesn’t like sports is wrong.

One can dislike a candy bar, a type of soda, a likewise mundane thing that comes down to preferences. No, no. What Eddie Munson feels towards sports cannot be condensed into such a simple term. His body itself outright refuses to take part in any sport activity – sweat immediately pooling at his pits and back and ass, legs acting disjointed, arms too long and too weak to do anything of significance, except for maybe making a fool of himself. With that particular element of his P.E. experience helps his mouth which, funnily enough, is the only part of Eddie that runs quicker than anyone, especially its owner, can catch up. Not that the rest of his group feels exceptionally impressed with the skill presented.

Hawkins High doesn’t need a furry mascot for laugh-inducing entertainment when it has Eddie Munson.

“Munson, you’re in Hagan’s team.”

“Oh, for fuck’s-“

“Do not fret, little ol’ Thomas, I sincerely vouch to not dare touch the balls you play with-“

And as the usual song and dance goes, the ball is thrust directly into his stomach.

Several bruises left on his body and ego later Eddie decides it’s simply not worth it, he skips P.E. entirely – avoids it as if it were the ninth circle of Hell. It may as well be, he thinks. Uncle Wayne seems persistent to convince Eddie to try again but after a long and, frankly tiring, conversation the subject is dropped.

Until now.

Eddie stretches out his legs in front of him, the uncomfortable plastic chair digging into his spine and reshaping his already barely-there ass into a flat tire. It’s psychological warfare, it must be, because how else can one explain furniture that defies its primary function so well. Principal Higgins knew well what she did when she chose them to be placed in front of her office. Her own personal little torture chamber.

“The Principal is ready to see you now, Mr. Munson,” the secretary, a pretty blonde in her twenties, tries to smile at him but all that comes out as a result is a grimace stretched thin over her face. It dims further when Eddie stands up making the most noise he possibly could have with the chair sliding across the parquet.

“Sorry,” he says because he is actually sorry. For all his bold persona and jumping on tables, he hates the idea of bothering someone who absolutely does not deserve it. The secretary is nice, he can say that with confidence he’s gained over sitting in that damned red plastic chair too many times to bother counting. He also knows he can be a lot when seated in it – constantly twitching and shifting, mind all too self-aware of the pre-attached uncoordinated body.

Principal Higgins doesn’t look pleased to see him but when does she ever? Eddie personally believes they see each other often enough to be on first-name basis, or at least have this unspoken camaraderie between each other. He thinks the name Margaret would fit her. Tiffany? The only obstacle of their everlasting friendship he can think of is the boundless hatred she has for him. And he has for her.

“Mr. Munson, I’m glad you could join us,” she says, voice syrupy-sweet, so much so it clogs Eddie’s ears for a moment. She has a maroon sweater on today and Eddie thinks it complements the stark bags under her eyes very well. A white blouse ironed to the bone peeks out from underneath it, sleeves rolled up. It’s then that he notices Coach Collins sitting in the chair usually reserved for the culprit’s legal guardian. This is not a usual part of their – Higgins’ and Eddie’s – routine and so it throws him out of the loop a little.

“Please sit,” Higgins points to the only empty seat in her office. Eddie is glad, for what’s it worth, that the chairs here are leagues better than whatever monstrosity his ass still feels the imprint of awaits in the waiting room.

“It wasn’t me,” Eddie says what he always does as he sits down. The Principal doesn’t look any more or less impressed with the line than usual, only letting out a silent sigh.

“Mr. Munson, your attendance ratio in Mr. Collins’ class is abhorrent.”

 Ah. Rough and straight to the point, just the way he likes it.

“I might have missed… a couple of days,” Eddie admits, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His eyes roam the intricate designs on the carpet. Surprisingly enough they look exactly the same as the last time he’s seen them.

“More like a whole semester, son,” Coach finally decides to take part in this excruciating exchange.

“Normally that amount of missed classes is enough to fail the grade but Mr. Collins was considerate enough to offer you a deal,” Higgins pointedly stares Eddie down as if wanting to force him to slide down to his knees and thank the Coach for the opportunity. As if ‘Mr. Collins’ didn’t turn his head at all the harassment Eddie has faced in his class to begin with.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sport’s Day is coming up. We’d like you to join us this year, Mr. Munson,” she adds, implying she very much would not like him to be there at all but some predestined script requires it. “I believe some teamwork could do you good.”

Yes. Because being stuck with the school’s entire jock population on the football field is somehow better than ten or so of them in a P.E. class. He’s going to die, for sure .

The thing is, he knows they are giving him an excellent out. Sport’s Day is sort-of mandatory, though he’s only attended it once himself. It’s a big event for the school that, in theory, is a great opportunity to let a bit loose and get to know each other. Except, as it often is, a certain part of the Hawkins High population deems themselves as better than others and what should be all fun and games turns puckingly nerve-wracking if you dare to not be pristinely perfect and screw up. Eddie had one attempt in 1982 and hasn’t stick in a foot or arm onto school grounds that day ever since.

“Right,” he says in the end, voice a little strangled. They both clearly take it as him agreeing and, well, he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Unless he wants to repeat Senior Year again.

He doesn’t.

He really, really doesn’t.

So one full day of excruciating pain it is.

-&-

It’s hot as fucking balls.

The event hasn’t started yet but Eddie can already feel the sweat pooling all over his body. Students stand in small groups all around the yard and it takes him a long while before he spots the Corroded Coffin.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Eddie Munson?”

“Yeah, yeah, yack it up,” he rolls his eyes at Jeff, eyes scanning the area for a semi-hidden smoking spot and finding none. It’s too risky, anyway. He lifts the hem of his shirt to fan himself. “Not like I had a choice.”

They all know about the quote unquote ‘olive branch’ handed out to him by the school but he can feel they’re surprised he decided to follow through with the spectacle anyway.

A long queue forms in the middle of the court, Coach Collins and Jenkins right at the top of it all along with Principle Higgins, each with a jar filled with differently colored strips of material in their hands. Even with no say in the matter, Eddie feels his hand sweating the closer he gets to the harbinger of his doom. Soon enough he will know who is going to make his life hell the next ten or so hours.

“Team yellow,” Collins tells him and gives him the appropriately colored ribbon. Eddie does a apathetic ‘woohoo’ with it before sliding off the side where his new team members reside. He ties the material loosely around his neck because he lives to disrupt the norm. Because fuck Collins.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to go there, dude,” Hawkins’ personal eye-candy, Steve Harrington, tells him upon arrival. Even in this horrid damp weather he keeps smiling for some unknown reason, no strand of hair out of place. He has his basketball uniform on – a simple gray shirt and, oh God, tiny shorts that expose those legs- Eddie snaps his head up so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t cracked and rolled off yet. Perhaps that would be the more merciful solution. A yellow ribbon is residing around Harrington’s sun-kissed bicep.

Great.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a great fan of rules,” he bites, hoping Harrington will just leave him be.

“I know. It’s your whole shtick.” So. That’s a no. Harrington shrugs.

“But sometimes rules are there for a reason,” he says and hooks his finger under the ribbon around Eddie’s neck to tug at it lightly. “To, like, not die.”

However eloquently phrased, Eddie begrudgingly admits – to himself, in his head, never out loud – that there might be a good point hidden somewhere underneath all that hair spray. He wonders if it were Hagan in Harrington’s place would there be a more hands-on approach to this warning. With Eddie being left strangled.

Quite possibly.

He’s not going to test that theory.

“Whatever his majesty wants,” Eddie says as he dutifully unties the yellow ribbon from his neck. And because he never knows when to shut up, he adds, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice, dude. I know me being in your team, like, disrupts your mojo, or whatever.”

Harrington is noticeably not smiling anymore. He doesn’t cross his arms though it looks like he really wants to. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows. It should not be attractive but, alas, Eddie is but a weak man.

“It’s supposed to be fun, man.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie ends up mumbling, feeling out of energy all of a sudden. The queue of students doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, not that it matters much because all his friends have been scattered throughout all the other teams. He moves to sit on the grass at the edge of their little Yellow group, legs spread out in front of him. The grass is dry under his palms as he leans back, and he wishes he could light an inconspicuous smoke. Even more so when a body slams into him.

“Jesus Christ, what the f-“

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” a girl yelps. “I was trying to tie my shoe but I have, like, no coordination so I kind of fell over you? I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry. Balancing on one leg is so much harder than it looks. Like, honestly, how do cheerleaders even do that thing where they-“

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine,” Eddie jumps in before the girl – Robin Buckley, turns out – faints from lack of air. A yellow ribbon hangs limply off her wrist. Maybe it makes him a bad person but there is a sense of relief knowing he will not be the only ‘uncoordinated’ one on the team. Harrington is going to have an aneurysm for sure.

Robin blinks down at him, lips pulling down in a frown. “Oh, it’s you.”

Okay? Mean.

“Yes?” Whatever imaginary comradery Eddie hoped for seems off the table all of a sudden. Well, that’s a bummer. “Why the long face? Not happy to see a fellow nerd on the team?”

“You stepped on my sandwich last week.”

Ah. Well. That would do it, he supposes. The lunch break speeches… they sometimes get a little intense. Eddie gets a little intense, is what the rest of the Hellfire Club would probably say. Eddie’s shoes have been known to slam face – sole? – first into the best of what the Hawkins High cafeteria had to offer; which is not saying much, to be completely honest.

“My humble apologies,” he tries a little bow and hopes it comes off sincere. Buckley looks less than convinced. Tough crowd, what can he say?

“Alrighty, I think that’s all of us,” Harrington’s overly cheery voice thunders somewhere from above him and Eddie, like a moth drawn to a flame, has no other option but to look up. With his hands power-posed strategically onto his sinfully slim waist and the sun positioned perfectly behind him, Steve Harrington seems to have taken it upon himself to alter Eddie’s brain chemistry, braincells leaving left and right, leaking right through his ears, never to be seen again.

“You’re drooling,” Robin’s monotone informs him from his right and he promptly slams his mouth shut, even though he knows the claim is wildly exaggerated. Buckley may be the best or the worst person he’s ever met – he desperately needs to befriend her.

“First up is the relay-race. We need four people. Anyone up?”

Harrington is met with painful silence and that does dim the cheery smile a little bit. Eddie wonders if that is where the famous King Steve comes out of the hiding, all scary sharp teeth and disregard of basic human decency. He himself stills, for once not wanting to draw any attention to himself, feeling like a student who doesn’t know the correct answer which, not to brag, if you asked Higgins or any other teacher in Hawkins High, is something Eddie excels in. Curiosity, though, is a fickle thing and he’s fallen victim to it more times than he can count, and so when the uncomfortable silence drowns on, Eddie can’t help but take a look around to meet the Team Yellow, so to speak.

Fred Benson peers at him from his thick glasses. A group of scared freshman cower together. There’s a couple of band kids other than Robin Buckley who forgone glaring at the back of Eddie’s head in order to chew on her lip nervously and stare at the ground. Not a jock in sight.

Steve Harrington couldn’t have landed a worse team if he tried. Surprisingly he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss himself over it. Huh.

“Alright, well. I volunteer myself then,” he raises his hand. “That leaves three. Hm? Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

Eddie can’t help it. He snorts. It’s loud and ugly.

“Well, I guess we have another volunteer,” Harrington preens and Eddie has to see who is idiotic enough to- It’s him, isn’t it? Harrington pulled out the classic teacher move and Eddie fell right into the trap.

“You do not want that, Harrington,” he tells him, trying his best not to show how much the intense eye contact from the jock affects him. It does not. It affects him even less when Steve juts out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side like a goddamn Golden Retriever.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to lose?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about teamwork,” Harrington trudges on stubbornly, sounding eerily sincere even while basically quoting every fake-cheery pamphlet in existence. It doesn’t matter how much Eddie tries to convince him it’s a bad idea – a terrible, awful, horrible idea – he doesn’t budge an inch like the stubborn asshole that he is.

“I’ll go last,” he informs Eddie and the other two unfortunate ‘volunteers’ once they reach the track.

“Hey, Harrington,” cuts a familiar voice and there’s Hagan suddenly all up Harrington’s business. “Ready to lose?”

To his credit, all Steve does is raise one eyebrow. “Did Hargrove tell you to come here, or what?”

Eddie appreciates balls on a man, literally and metaphorically, so this cheery but assertive combo is doing things to him that he is not proud of. There is a reason he avoided Steve Harrington for most of high school, and it wasn’t only because of the King Steve jock persona. Eddie may not have a good taste in men but he does have eyes.

“Whatever, man,” Hagan finishes off their little pissing contest in the meantime, strutting right back to Billy, both arms adored by blue ribbons. Harrington’s nostrils flare with each breath before he closes his eyes for a second.  

Eddie isn’t known to make wise choices. One would argue bad decisions run in his blood, screwing things up his very own a generational pattern.

“Uh, you okay, man?”

Harrington’s eyes snap open. Eddie should have never opened his mouth. With Harrington’s intense eyes on him, he feels like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Steve smiles. Eddie is going to crush and burn any minute now.

“Yeah, sorry,” he keeps his voice light but there’s underlying tension that hasn’t been there before. His eyes appear almost glazed over when he looks over to Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s gut-instinct wants to pin the strange interaction on some jock-code that he is simply not familiar with but that’s not all there is to it. Eddie has fallen victim to the rumor mill many a time during his prolonged high school career and so he tries not to lean into them too much, even when the juicy news of a fight between the former and new king of Hawkins High broke out. One look at Harrington now and he knows, deep down, the impressive shiner on Steve’s face last fall has truthfully been Hargrove’s doing.

Doesn’t matter, really, because Harrington, emanating a true father-at-vacation energy, claps his hands together with too much enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Getting the show on the road, so to speak, is Abby, a freshman, who does not at all look very confident. Eddie cannot, for a fact, tell if the time passes too fast or too slow as the whistle toots and Abby is on the go, then Nigel, and then-

Eddie leans forward, bends his knees. Suddenly there’s a weight in his hand. Someone is screaming for him to ‘ go, go, go’ !

And Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

By the halfway point, his lungs are on fire, his legs feel like jello. His hair flies out of his bun and he can barely see but, he muses, he might as well try and actually finish something for once. And it’s not because Steve Harrington happens to be waiting on the other side. But maybe that’s a bonus. Who can tell?

The second his hand touches Harrington’s and passes on the stick, his legs give out from underneath him and he falls on his ass with a deeply unsatisfying thunk .

“Nice job, Munson,” says a blurry hand with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he says, or tries to, though it comes out slurred. A big swing of water helps.

“You okay?” Robin leans over him before taking a whiff of L’eau d’Eddie and promptly taking an out.

“Aw, I knew you cared, Buckley.”

“I just don’t want you to hurl all over my shoes,” she simply says.

Somehow they are not last. Eddie doesn’t know whether he helped at all or is it simply the power of Steve Harrington’s godlike legs that did all the heavy-lifting, but they finish off in second place, right after Hagan.

Eddie would never admit it out loud, not under threats of death, but it was…kind of fun. Satisfying.

“Eddie, you were amazing!” Harrington runs up to him, sweat pooling over his forehead and neck and Eddie has to stop himself from offering to lick it off.

“Hu-?”

“You never mentioned you’re this fast!”

“Because I’m not? Have you hit your head on the way here, or-?”

Something weird happens with Harrington’s face for a split second but it’s so quick Eddie doesn’t have the time to properly analyze it before he’s smiling again.  

“Not this time, no,” he forces a chuckle. “But you had fun, right?”

Eddie sighs, flops down on the ground to make it extra dramatic. Eyes closed, he reaches out with his hand to make a tiny gap between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe a little.”

A small laugh rings above him, this time genuine, and he hates how he can feel a lazy grin tug at his lips.

Eddie misses at least one round while he lays on the grass. It’s a blissful fifteen-thirty-forty minutes and he revels in it with every whiff of a colder breeze but by minute forty-two the ground doesn’t seem nearly as comfortable as it used to right after the race. The sun assaults his eyes the moment he opens them and he swiftly sits up, trying to shake off loose twigs and dry grass that have gotten entangled with his hair.

Team Yellow has seen better days. While Eddie lounged in the grass they have become a mass of sweat and red heat-swollen cheeks. Whatever disciplines he’s missed, he is glad he has. They are not last on the leaderboard, though – by what miracle, he cannot figure out.

“Eddie!” Steve Harrington, of course, has been spared the same treatment as his team. Hair slightly whipped by the wind and rosy cheeks, he looks as though he just about stepped out of a salon. A tattered yellow-white-blue volleyball sits against his hip. “Just the guy I was looking for. You willing to give it a try?”

Eddie is not.

Not under any normal-adjacent circumstances anyway but Harrington is, consciously or not, giving him his best rendition of puppy eyes. That and Eddie can feel a heated gaze located on the back of his head coming coach’s way. No matter how tempting, he cannot afford to screw this up.

So, in the driest monotone he can muster, Eddie says, “Been waitin’ for that my whole life.”

“Cool,” is all Harrington says before his achingly warm fingers wrap themselves around Eddie’s wrist and tug him towards the court. Buckley is already standing by the net, sending Eddie a miniscule smile of encouragement when he settles on her left, Harrington just behind him.

“Was worried you were a goner by now,” Gareth calls from the other side of the net, a green ribbon tied to his wrist.

“Nah, you know me, Gare-bear,” he flexes his non-existent biceps. “I'm prime material for the next super athlete.”

Someone – Harrington – chokes and coughs behind him. Eddie refuses to look, contribute to the hot and sticky flush of embarrassment that settles over his organs like slime. He has a reputation to uphold, though, so when Gareth raises his eyebrow, silently asking if he is okay – in this team, with King Steve, here and now – Eddie simply rolls his eyes and conspicuously whispers ‘Little Miss Primadonna’, their little nickname for King Steve back in the day.

He doesn’t like how instead of feeling lighter he just feels sick afterwards.

A resounding whistle starts the first set.

Eddie has forgotten how violent and competitive volleyball can get. He jumps away every time the ball comes anywhere near him, Harrington’s sweaty body miraculously appearing right there and then to save the day. It’s maybe the first time today that he can see blips of annoyance on the jock’s face but then as soon as it appears it smooths out and Steve graces him with yet another smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the ball,” Harrington off-handedly tells him in-between sets.

“Yeah, well, you tend to start feeling a little bit wary about it after you’ve been hit in the face a few times,” Eddie can’t help but bite back. Harrington looks sad all of a sudden, as though his friends haven’t been the ones to attempt their best at making Eddie’s face concave. He can’t help but yelp when a hairy mass – Steve’s arm – settles over his back and shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Harrington teases but there’s a sincere note in his voice. “I won’t let any balls come near you.”

Harrington – blessed, innocent, Harrington – is thankfully too straight to realize the innuendo he accidentally made but Eddie is most definitely not, face red as he mumbles under his breath ‘I mean, some balls are fine.”

Thankfully he does not hear that either.

Steve keeps his promise with surprising accuracy; no volleyball flies anywhere near Eddie and Harrington is always close by. Which should not bring as much comfort to him as it does. Especially considering Eddie still is unable to figure out why – why is Harrington this nice? Why does he care about Eddie at all? Part of him worries it’s all an act, a grand performance by one King Steve, with a grand finale that promises pain and humiliation right at the crescendo.

Nothing happens.

Well, they lose. Spectacularly. One game, then another, then a third one.

Amid this disaster and despite them being the singularly least athletic team possible, Steve Harrington remains an encouraging and patient captain. Not once does he yell or complain when the majority of the team scrambles away from the ball instead of towards it. Surprising, when Harrington has spent years under the wing of Coach Daniels as the Hawkins High very own basketball team captain.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie thinks out loud, promptly pursing his lips because he did not mean to actually say it. It is in particularly bad self-preservation taste to give a jock more ammo.

“I promised,” is all Steve says with a wink. And for a second, a blink-and-you-miss-it, his eyes go up and down along Eddie’s body, and- But that’s impossible. Harrington is not- He wouldn’t have-

It’s a preposterous cherry on the wild-buck cake he’s been offered today. There must have been a ball hurled his way at one point or another, punching him into another dimension that is similar enough yet decidedly feels a little bit off at every step. He’s rooted in his spot like the idiot that he is. What finally breaks him from the self-induced coma is what caused it in the first place - his ears catch the melodic tune of a Harrington laugh and, just like that, from feet above the ground he falls back to Earth, popping like a balloon with a gun.

For all Buckley piss-poor attempts at appearing done with it all, she sure looks chummy with Steve Harrington all of a sudden, and he does with her as well. It was foolish, stupidly childish, to assume the jock’s attention was for Eddie and Eddie alone.

Harrington pulling out his patented charm with Buckley the same way he did a second ago with Eddie feels like a light stab in his chest. What twists it is them looking Eddie’s way, red cheeks and mirth in their eyes, and letting out a short but audible laugh.

“I’m telling you, dingus.”

 “God, shut up,” but Harrington laughs as he says it, even when he elbows Robin right in the boob.

Dead-set on keeping his eyes on the ground, Eddie tries to move past them. He doesn’t get far.

“Hey, Eddie, I’m trying to convince Robin to go for tug of war,” Harrington tells him for some fucking reason.

“No way, dingus.”

“She’s stronger than she looks,” he adds, poking Buckley in the bicep-less arm. “From carrying that tuba around.”

“Trumpet.”

I haul up the amp at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie wants to say – would that impress you?

He’s pathetic. He’s fallen from the high pedestal he self-appointed himself at – above the bullshit popularity contest and suffocating do’s and don’ts of small-town’s high school lore – right at the feet of the walking and breathing representation of everything he resents about how the world works, and-

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.

A good smoke is exactly what Eddie needs right now. Fill his being with nothing but puffs of smoke. Students and teachers and even some parents roam around the school grounds but his trusty spot behind the gym is free of the intruders. Two cigarettes in, he refuses to feel sorry for himself any longer.

He’s not going to dwell on something that was a pipe dream to begin with. Not too long anyway. Whatever. He’s fine.

He is .

Steve seems wary of him when he gets back but he brushes it off as well as he can and gets in line behind Fred Benson instead. It’s long jump time.

“Robin’s pretty cool, right?” comes a voice behind him. Eddie yelps.

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy.”

Steve has the audacity to look a little sheepish, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sorry, man.”

Silence.

“Turns out we have some things in common,” he says, then. And stares. For a long time.

“Okay?”

What does he want Eddie to say? You have my blessing? Congrats?

Steve looks slightly discouraged from continuing his ventures but seems willing to trudge on, for whatever reason. “Maybe-“

“Munson, you’re up!”

Oh, thank God .

Eddie may not be the fastest or the strongest but he has years of avoiding bullies under his belt. That is to say, if he wants to avoid someone, he will find a way to become, well, not invisible, but unreachable at the least. It does not help that at this point he understands Harrington’s newfound obsession with him even less. Maybe for a second Eddie could have thought that – well, that doesn’t matter.  

By hour eight and with only one event left, Eddie feels pretty confident he’s going to survive the whole thing after all and not even be on the losing team somehow. That is until Coach Jenkins announces the farewell match.

“Dodgeball! Yellow against blue,” and whistles loud and clear, no room for complaints.

It all goes surprisingly well until it doesn’t. Until there’s a ball flying his way. Until he faceplants into next week.

Of course it’s Steve Harrington who insists on patching him up in the nurse’s office. “I’m the captain,” he says before anyone else can offer. Not that they were people scrambling to do so, really.

“I’m sorry,” Harrington adds when an icepack settles on the side of Eddie’s head once they arrive.

“What for? ‘Far as I can tell it wasn’t you who threw that,” Eddie narrows his eyes. “Right?”

“No, of course not, Eddie, I would never-“ Steve stops himself and Eddie wants so badly to point out that he ‘would ever’, in fact he ‘did ever’, but that would be a lie. King Steve never stooped as law as the likes of Tommy Hagan or other low-esteem high school bullies. King Steve was always above it all, too high and mighty to bother with mundane shit such as head shooting a nerd with a basketball in P.E. or offering a swirlie. Doesn’t make it right, doesn’t make him any less of an asshole for standing by and watching it happen.

But Harrington hasn’t been King Steve for a while now, has he?

It’s morally questionable. It’s confusing.

Eddie thinks he might be having a concussion.

“I promised,” Steve says instead, and Eddie is really even more convinced a visit to the ER is going to be necessary because- “That I wouldn’t let any ball come near you.”

Ah.

A strange oath to so stubbornly hang onto all things considered.

While Eddie struggles to find an appropriate response Steve decides to take it upon himself to start cleaning the scraped knee with a feather-light touch and precision that comes as a surprise. A minute stretches into five, into ten, as he works, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’ve been told that I’ve been,” he makes quotation marks in the air. “acting like a weirdo.”

“Ah. Well. Who am I to disagree with the King?” Eddie juts out his bottom lip and Steve snorts. Clamps a hand to his mouth, embarrassed, though a glint in his eyes betrays him.

“What’s so funny, Harrington?”

“Nothing. Just – I really do have a type,” Steve shrugs.

“Women that are probably too good for you?”

“Mmm, that, too, but also,” he grabs one of the loose strands that have escaped Eddie’s bun and twirls it between his fingers. Heat rushes to his ears fast and warm and he can barely make out what Steve says next. But he does and- “Cute pout. Curly hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Super smart.”

Eddie swallows. “Steve.”

“Not ‘Harrington’ anymore?”

“If this is a joke-“

“It’s not,” Steve’s hand quickly links and tugs at his. “I promise it’s not.”

“I’m a little lost, dude, not gonna lie.”

“The whole day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re… pretty, so pretty. And Robin insisted that you like me, too,” Steve slows down, disentangles his hands from Eddie’s. “But – did I misread this? I- Don’t leave me hanging like that, man.”

Eddie can see the growing panic in Steve’s eyes, desperation in his voice. He can’t help it, his mind comes to a shattering halt.

“Wait, hold on, I- You’re being serious?” Steve nods. “Okay, shit. I-uh. Fuck.”

“This was a bad idea, wasn't it?” Steve fists his hand in his hair, making a mess of it and oh, Eddie cannot allow that, not unless he’s the one that- “I’m so sorry, Eddie-“

One hand on a grey shirt, one with rings getting tangled in-between strands of puffy hair, two pair of lips collide for just a split second. Only a quick pause follows before they are reunited again, and again, and-

“Does that mean,” Steve asks, breathless, between peppering kisses. “that you’ll go out with me?”

“Keep the kisses coming and you have yourself a deal.”

Steve leans away and smirks. Eddie can’t help the little embarrassing whine that leaves his lips. “We stopped. Why did we stop?”

“Told you it’s all about teamwork.”