#oh boy my favourite AND least favourite part of any post I make

[hershelwidget]

Something something here’s the gang but even funkier than before

cannot stop giggling at how much Undertow does n o t look like a professional doctor and how TINY Apollo is and how much Marigold’s outfit resembles Nastasia from SPM

please don’t consider these official designs until I draw them in my notebook, these are just kinda bases or big ideas as to what they’d look like

[crheativity]

Hello there! I came across your blog and enjoyed reading your post about the Overblot Squad Plushie Parts. I was wondering if you would consider writing a Part 3 where the Squad discovers that their plushies have been stolen. It turns out that the culprits are their Vice Dorm Wardens - either Kalim (since Jamil is Vice Dorm Warden) or Ace (since Trey wouldn't do that). I'm curious to know how the Overblot Boys would react to this situation. Have a pleasant day/night!

SUMMARY: Someone took the Overblot Squad’s plushies! How do they react?

WARNINGS: T*cked in Riddle’s section, sorry if Malleus’ wasn’t that good, writing his was really tricky.

COMMENTS: Hehehehe as soon as I read this my immediate reaction was “oh they’re screwed.” 

Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here.

He. Is. Ticked. ALL of Heartslabyul is on lockdown until he finds whichever culprit was bold enough to steal something from him! And stealing something that his beloved made from him? Heads are going to roll.

Riddle literally stops people from leaving Heartslabyul and searches every room himself. He, unsurprisingly, finds plenty of contraband, but doesn’t find his beloved plushy anywhere. He’s almost in tears. He really doesn’t want to tell you he lost it, but all hope seems to be lost-

That is, until Ace hands back the plushy with a sheepish apology. He explains that he had to drop something off in Riddle’s room and accidentally knocked the toy into the trash can. He stole it to clean it and was gonna sneak it back. He didn’t think Riddle would notice that quickly!

Ace still loses his head, but only for a week instead of a month, since he had good intentions. Riddle remains snippy at Ace for months afterwards, though.

Walking into his room, Leona realises that something is wrong. You - or at least, the plush you made for him - is missing. He spends around an hour searching his room for it and ends up being extremely irritated when all traces of it are gone. He doesn’t want to admit to his dorm members that he actually misses it, so he tries to sleep without it for a couple of days.

This makes him even more irritated.

Eventually, he wears himself down enough to ask Ruggie what had happened to it. Ruggie groans and explains that the smell of you coming from the plush and accessories was waaay too much for any normal beastman, and that he (along with other Savannaclaw members) had gotten fed up with it and hidden them.

Leona offers Ruggie 2,000 thaumarks to return them. Ruggie doesn’t think twice. 

Azul is sobbing ALL DAY. He is INCONSOLABLE. Octavinelle is getting embarrassed at the fact that their dorm leader - the best and brightest among them - is an uncontrollable mess over the fact that his toy is missing. But what can he do? That’s his best friend, gone! He’s looked everywhere and he can’t find it! What will his Angelfish say? He can’t bear to imagine the look on your face when he tells you he lost it!

He literally pays people to help him find the toy, yet no matter how much money he throws at them and no matter how hard they look, it’s just gone. It’s almost like someone stole it… no, he can’t think like that. If someone really did steal it, he’d probably never get it back! He just wants to hide in an octopus pot.

The Tweels are torn between thinking it’s hilarious and wanting Azul to shut up already. Eventually, Jade returns the plush, explaining that he thought it was fascinating and wanted to study it closer, yet didn’t think Azul would agree. (He also wanted to see Azul’s reaction to his favourite plushy being missing.) Azul is in TEARS of RELIEF and hugging that plushy. He refuses to let it out of his sight anymore. It will go with him (almost) everywhere. Floyd thinks the whole situation is hilarious and will NOT stop teasing him about it.

Jamil at first doesn’t seem like he’s phased. However, those who know him notice the ticks; the muscles in his face twitching with annoyance whenever he’s asked to do anything and the sarcastic comments he often thinks and not says become mutters under his breath instead. He becomes a lot more aggressive in his tasks - forgoing the typical, painstaking care he usually takes for finishing his tasks quickly and shutting everyone out.

He remains this way for several days. People start to get vibes from him and avoid him, which annoys him even more. He just can’t get it out of his head. Why is he so annoyed? Is it because every time he thinks of the missing doll, he thinks of you, upset at him for losing it (whether you actually are or not)? …maybe. He won’t let himself admit it either way. 

A couple of days later, Jamil finds the doll - sitting on Kalim’s bed. He’s immediately interrogating Kalim. Kalim happily explains that in trying to help out Jamil, he decided to try and help clean his room. He knows that the doll means a lot to Jamil, so he wanted to get it cleaned for him! Jamil appreciates it but he’s also this close to losing his temper. Please, just, next time, tell him first, okay? sheesh.

Vil is going to lose his mind. His doll has gone missing. He cannot find it anywhere. He’s already torn apart his room at least three times and called every single studio he’s done a photoshoot in or acted for in the past two months, asking if anyone had seen it. Yet no traces have been found. He has a headache. 

On top of that, Rook has been acting particularly frustrating recently - constantly checking up on his mood and popping out of the most random places. It’s almost as though the universe has coordinated this on purpose.

Wait.

Upon confronting Rook, Vil finds out that his theory was correct; Rook did in fact steal the plush. Apparently, he’d “wanted to see the beauty of Vil’s yearning for the precious thing his beloved made for him,” and so he’d hidden it for a while. Vil’s this close to shaking him by the shoulders, but at least he’s got the plush back.

Pookie? Pookie is missing! Uh oh, that ain’t good. He’s gotta find him, quick. The gacha banners are about to change and he already pre-farmed the mats needed for the character he wants. How’s he supposed to hit those 0.6% odds while without the Little Guy?

He’s tearing apart his room, trying to find the skrunkly before server reset. There’s no way he would’ve taken the toy outside to touch grass, right??? So it’s gotta be in here. Except it’s nowhere to be found. 

He’s about to give in to some totally cringe behaviour - going and looking for it outside - when Ortho shows up, holding the marketable plushie. Idia is snatching it from Ortho and spinning it around the room before flopping on his bed, before realising how cringe he just was. At least he can do his gacha rolls now?

(Ortho’s really confused. He just took it to wash. Did he do something wrong-? Oh well, as long as his brother’s happy now)

As soon as Malleus discovers the plush toy is missing, the rain starts. As he continues to look and ask around for it and doesn’t find it, the rain gets worse. Eventually, NRC has a full-blown hurricane on its hands. 

The weather stays like this for a good two days. Classes have been cancelled as asking students to walk across campus in that much of a downpour would lead to a school-wide riot. And Malleus is still sulking in the corner about his missing plushie.

That is, until a sheepish Lilia surprises Malleus with the plush. He explains that it must’ve fallen in with the laundry and gone through the wash. Since the weather has been so erratic lately, it had to go through the dryer too rather than be dried by the sun, which is why no one noticed where it was for so long.

The rain instantly clears. Malleus hugs his plush and decides to take her to visit you. All is right in the world again. 

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[astonmartinii]

loving on a sunday | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

y/n and lando, the grid and an honest attempt at a sunday roast

masterlist if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 601,239 others

yourusername: warning !! do not own a nice country house and farm because you will get lumped with the annual post season grid dinner, SEB PLEASE COME BACK I CAN"T TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY @landonorris what are you going to do when they find out you can't cook?

view all comments

user1: learning that lando can't cook is the least surprising thing in the entire world

user2: i'm sorry post season grid dinner? brb just going to cry my eyes out why haven't we heard of this before

user3: for my mental health i need photographic evidence asap

landonorris: way to bait me out in front of the whole world, thanks babe

yourusername: i'm sorry but if this crashes and burns i need people to know that it was your fault (because it defo would be)

landonorris: where is the faith? you back me to win every race but won't back me to make some roast potatoes :(

yourusername: babe when i was sick you burnt the soup so bad we had to throw the pan out

landonorris: I TRIED I WAS STRESSED YOU WERE SICK

yourusername: awwww babe, but it was le crueset and literally cost more than my life

sebastianvettel: it's been an honour to host it but i know you and lando will do great, send me all the photos !

yourusername: thank you seb, please come visit the farm at some point xx

landonorris: see i knew seb would have faith in me thanks mate

user4: lando's gf being a farm girl makes so much sense but also no sense what so ever

yourusername: tis the south west babe it's either banksy or farmers and nothing in between

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername and 1,023,677 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: should be peeling potatoes right now she's too pretty

view all comments

user10: oh to be a kitty cat being cuddled by y/n

yourusername: you're such a smooth talker babe but those potatoes won't peel themselves

landonorris: my years of being teammates with carlos has come in clutch

yourusername: you still suck at flirting i just love you so i still swoon, any other person would probably laugh in your face

landonorris: gonna ignore the insult and focus on the fact that you love me

user11: i swear every time i see y/n she's with another animal i've never seen before

yourusername: my farm is a safe haven for any animal, if they find themselves there they'll leave with a full tummy and a good load of cuddles

maxverstappen1: if lando is on potato duty does this mean we won't get them? they're my favourite part of a roast y/n PLEASE STEP IN

landonorris: oh wow i see how it is

maxverstappen1: i'm dutch i'm so serious about my potatoes

landonorris: i also don't fuck around about roast potatoes HAVE FAITH

user12: can we start a petition for lando to stream this? like at least the cooking portion

yourusername: watching my nervous breakdown live would not be ethical

landonorris: it's true she threw a carrot at my head the first time she cooked for my family

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and 590,455 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

oscarpiastri: officially a farm boy for the week (also known as third wheeling for seven days)

view all comments

user15: omg oscar went early? my mclaren heart is so full

yourusername: so so happy to have you here osc!! though you're not any more trustworthy in the kitchen

oscarpiastri: i'd defend myself but we've all seen me fail to boil an egg

yourusername: you tried your best !! but you've mastered the english tea which is a massive asset

oscarpiastri: i think i'd lose my seat if i couldn't make a cup of tea

user16: obsessed with y/n dragging everyone for being menaces in the kitchen

user17: love how oscar was like: post lando? no. post ducks? yes.

landonorris: mate you asked to come early don't complain about third wheeling now

oscarpiastri: i know i asked to come early but if y'all could lay off the soft porn for two seconds would be appreciated

landonorris: don't pretend you don't enjoy it mate ;)

yourusername: lando don't be mean :(

landonorris: i'm sorry oscar, i'm sure you don't enjoy watching us be happy

oscarpiastri: thanks i guess?

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,034,560 others

charles_leclerc: sad to announce i've been banned from the kitchen:( even banned from making drinks as well

view all comments

user18: this is defo the banning i agree with, we all saw the vlog with the pesto pasta

user19: tbf i've come to the conclusion the one person y/n would let into the kitchen is seb

yourusername: you're not wrong

user20: i need a chick in my dungarees right now

yourusername: why are you complaining about a free pass to sit on the couch and have someone else cook for you?

charles_leclerc: well when you put it like that ....

landonorris: let me revoke all of my previous complaints

yourusername: you know i like to treat you baby

charles_leclerc: why thank you y/n but that's an inappropriate thing to say while in a relationship

yourusername: it was in reply to lando's comment charles 😭

landonorris: guy forgot he could read for a second

charles_leclerc: MY BAD

user21: i know charles didn't come to a farm in all white

yourusername: i regret to inform you he did (it's all designer as well)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 702,340 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sunday roasts are my love language, so happy to host the grid dinner with the love of my life

view all comments

user23: at first i thought she was being a bit too serious about this but that roast looks like it BANGS

user24: legit i need one asap

georgerussell63: carmen wants the recipe please and thank you

yourusername: bring her to the farm next time we're free and i'll teach her in person

carmenmundt: thank you darling

yourusername: anything for you

landonorris: ummm what about the guy you called the love of your life in the caption?

yourusername: i love you but i've tried to teach you to cook way too many times

user25: i'm sorry lando is so sexy

user26: forget lando, every pic i've seen of this house is the sexiest thing in the world

carlossainz55: thank you for hosting y/n and lando!! i had a great time see you on new years

yourusername: no worries chilli

maxverstappen1: the roast was the best thing i've ever eaten, i'll only dock points because i had to top and tail with daniel

yourusername: i didn't see you complain when i walked in on you guys cuddling

danielricciardo: you told me you loved it :(

maxverstappen1: i did !!! i enjoyed all of it, especially the roast though

landonorris: second to a roast @danielricciardo that's tough

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,208,943 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: so honoured to host the grid dinner and take over from such an inspiration in seb!! but mostly thanks to y/n for hosting at her farm and putting together an amazing dinner and weekend - also thanks for not killing the grid, i defo would have

view all comments

user27: i would've given a kidney to be there for real

lewishamilton: thank you for having us and for the sick nut roast

yourusername: we love you and roscoe !! and vegans are always welcome on my farm

user28: ROSCOE WENT?

yukitsunoda0511: thank you y/n i no longer think that english food is an abomination

yourusername: wow thank you yuki, i knew it would be hard when your only exposure was ... milton keynes

landonorris: wow my girlfriend is a miracle worker, and you're welcome yuki san we loved having you

user29: watching lando go from rookie to hosting the grid dinner, i'm soft

oscarpiastri: i love it here i'm sorry you're not getting rid of me

yourusername: no worries osc, you can stay as long as you want

landonorris: no complaining about third wheeling though, you're basically our child now

user30: experienced racer and rookie teammate friendships are so special to ME

danielricciardo: glad i managed to get my seat back just for this roast tbf

landonorris: not cause you missed me?

danielricciardo: eh i guess so

yourusername: just let me know when you're in england and you can come over for another

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VI)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, discussions of anxiety, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, protected P in V sex.

Word Count | ~16,400 

A/N | Oh you won't be able to move for all the fluff. Cheeky shout-out to @heydreamchild for this post which made me lose my mind in the tags and think about Eddie's relationship with Wayne's mug collection.

Taglist (please don't ask to be tagged if you won't interact with the fic)

Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦ 

 You screw your eyes shut instead of watching the ping pong ball continue its high arch over the remaining cups on the other side of the table. You hear it hit the floor, the barely suppressed scoff across from you at another missed shot. 

Your cheeks are burning, have been since you started this game. You open an eye to find May smiling at you encouragingly as she lines herself up for her turn. She’s more practised than you. Invited to more of these parties, asked to play more of these games. The ball flies from her hand and lands with a gentle splash in one of the three remaining cups in front of you, her expression now tinged with satisfaction. You can’t blame her, you’d look the same if you were good at any of this. You fish the ball out and sip the lukewarm beer for a second before forcing the rest of it down just to get this turn over with. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, handing the ball to your partner and stepping aside to let him take his turn. Safely at the corner of the table, you glance quickly at the clock on the other side of the room. It reads 11:03pm, and you wonder if you could negotiate heading home by eleven thirty. 

Not likely. 

When you’d walked through the door, shoulders pressed between both your friends, you had yourself convinced that you would have a good time tonight. Tipsy from the white wine your mom let you drink under her supervision, warm with joy from an early evening spent with May and Heather in your room. It’s your favourite part of going out; the hour or two before. When it’s just the three of you, with nobody else to perform for, you fit right back together as you always did. Swapping gossip, exchanging compliments. Painting Heather’s nails a soft pink, her steady hands painting yours in return. You worked on May’s make up, smiled shyly  into the mirror when she set your hair up the way you like it and told you with a pout how jealous she is of its texture. 

You listened to Heather, gentle and happy at seeing her boyfriend, at the flowers he’d brought her. You spoke to May about the film you should rent for your next movie night; a comedy with popcorn or a weepy chick flick with chocolate. You’d watched from your bed, grinning and heartsore while May leaned into Heather’s shoulder, serenading her while she applied her lipstick. Heather rolled her eyes fondly as May crooned into her ear, “I can’t fight this feeling anymore!” 

Later, head truly fuzzy from paint stripper vodka and lemonade, you’d screamed all the words to Power of Love with them. Hands in the air, hips swaying, content in the knowledge that, if everyone in the house has drank as much as you, none of them will care to remember how you danced and sang tonight. It was exactly as you wanted it to always be. With your friends, believing entirely, at least in the moment, that you still put each other first. That you were friends now not just because you used to be. 

Only, Heather’s boyfriend had appeared like a grey cloud in the blue sky of your evening. Before you knew it, she was settled under his arm on a couch at the other side of the room, sipping light beer and talking with the friends he’d brought back from college for the weekend. All boys you can’t stand, and know May can’t stand either. The last time you saw them, when May had told them proudly that you were well on your way to NYU to study Comparative Literature, you’d watched two of them make eye contact, sniggering with each other into their beer. You weren’t proud of yourself for adding that you still might do Chemistry, not that it had helped much. 

Soon after, May was called over by some cheer friends. She’d grasped your hand and pulled you along with her, both a blessing and a curse that she refuses to leave you out. Lacking some of your usual self-consciousness, both from your continual sips at your drink and the fact that Caroline, blessedly, hadn’t shown up, you’d managed a brief, fairly friendly chat with Tracy about whether she was wearing too much blush (she was) followed by how well the basketball team will do this year (hell if you know). 

Then, when Josh, a boy May has had a simmering crush on since you were freshmen, invited her over to play beer pong, you let her pull you with her again. And here you are, paired with this boy in green and white. Ethan flashes his white toothed smile every time you miss a shot on account of your shaking hands. A charming smile that tells you how girls might get into trouble on his account; girls like Caroline, girls like Erin. You wonder if it was that smile that made Erin follow him upstairs that night, that made Caroline fall back into his arms with little complaint, all the blame placed elsewhere. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, squeezing the top of your arm before turning his attention to the table. May smiles at you again as Josh chugs beer down in a quick gulp, sending you all the signs of gratitude that make you feel guilty for thinking almost exclusively about the ways you could leave soon.

When it’s your turn again, you take stock of the cups across from you. Two on your side, four on theirs, so with any luck this is your last turn. You watch the ball just brush the opposite rim of one of the cups, before bouncing lamely to the table. “Okay, that one was close.” Ethan says kindly, elbowing you.

“Nah, her head’s in the clouds,” Josh says with a smirk, catching the ball and bouncing it a couple times off the table. “Too busy thinking about…Munson, right? Would not have thought that was your type, but uh, I guess that explains why you wouldn’t let Andy-”

“Leave her alone, Josh,” May cuts in, leaning away from him with a scowl. You feel a rush around your ears, your heart in your throat. You like to forget this fact, but sometimes you’re reminded of it like seeing it written in bright red neon. Just about everybody knows what happened between you and Andy to varying degrees of detail, and they can all use it against you whenever they want. 

“It’s not that serious,” he says, the following laugh more defensive when May rolls her eyes. “You are dating the freak, right?”

Your toes curl. “Don’t call him that.”

“C’mon, man,” Ethan sighs. “You’re killing the mood.”

“It’s dead and buried,” May corrects, face set in that brilliant frown that gets your heart pumping when it’s directed at you. 

Josh glances between the three of you, landing particularly on May and her crossed arms. He looks to Ethan again for support, throws his hands up when he finds none there. “Fine,” he says, smacking his teeth. “‘S boring playing girls anyway.”

He bounces the ball across the table to Ethan, and stalks off with his shoulders sagging. May’s face softens when she comes over to you, your chest warm at her concern. “You okay?”

“Mm. Thank you.”

She pouts, swaying a little. “Why are guys such jerks?”

“Um, I’m right here,” Ethan laughs, chucking the ball back and forth between his hands. There’s that smile again, easy and sharp and clean. You think of Erin, dragged through mud. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, barely glancing at him. 

“No problem. He’s an idiot when he’s drunk.”

If you were braver, you’d say he’s an idiot sober, too. 

“Looks like we need to even the teams up,” May says brightly. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer, the only relief from the situation that this may give you a chance to escape for a brief moment. “I wanna get some water. You guys can keep playing.”

“You sure?” She asks, leaning in so it really is just the two of you, giving you a hit of tuberose and orange blossom, the same perfume she’s worn since your first high school party in ‘83. “I’ll come with you if you want.”

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing her arm gratefully. “I’ll be right back.”

The air is fresher the second you’re in the hallway, without the clutch of warm bodies forcing you to mutter ‘excuse me’ enough that the words lose all meaning. The damp heat picks up again in the kitchen, smaller groups standing around with cups in their hands, some swaying to the distant music. You glance at the sink, find a couple crowded in front of it, their eyes intent on eachother. Even your slightly fuzzy mind decides against trying to navigate around them in search of water. 

“Hey, Ringwald.” It takes a good couple of seconds for you to register that the greeting might be for you. It requires a tap on the shoulder, Erin’s half there smile directed your way. She holds up a cup. “Want some?” 

You glance into it, find clear liquid that gets your hopes up. “Water?”

She snorts. “I know I’m pretty badass, but six shots of vodka in one cup is a little much. Even for me.” 

You take it gratefully, screaming at your tipsy brain to remember not to drink too much of someone else’s water. A couple gulps and you hand it back to her, surprised at how much you needed it, throat a little scratchy from singing earlier before your joy left with Heather. 

“So, uh, how are you?”

You nod, giving her a close lipped smile. “Yeah, fine. How are you?”

Erin tilts her head, her right eye narrowing. “No, I mean, like really how are you?” She waves her cup around, as if gesturing to the entire house. “Seems like you and May are friends again, I guess.”

“We were always friends,” you assure, heart panging. “She was just,” you search for it, unprepared for this conversation. Where you normally would avoid answering altogether, your cottoned up mind combined with the earnest desperation to defend your friend ends in a rambling answer. “I didn’t tell her the right way, you know? She was hurt, finding out from somebody else about, you know, Eddie and I. But we talked it all out and she’s forgiven me.”

“Forgiven…you?” 

“For not telling her myself.”

Erin taps a finger on her cup, considering you. “That’s what she was angry about?”

Your mouth opens, thoughts tangling. “Um, I mean, among other things,” you rush, giving her a reassuring smile. “But everything’s fine now.” 

“Okay,” she says, that half smile returning. “Glad to hear it, Ringwald.”

“I, um,” you step a little closer, forcing yourself to look right into her eyes. “I did want to say thank you for that actually. I just-” You just worried endlessly about approaching her, how you would even thank her for preventing you from being quizzed about your sex life in front of an entire group. You shrug, and luckily Erin seems to understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “You shouldn’t have had to explain yourself in the first place. But those girls are pretty vicious when they smell blood.”

You’re struck with a pity for her you know she’d probably hate you feeling. You try to remember what she was like before her entire friend group turned on her, before she was taken in by that sharp smile. She still had the sarcastic wit, you’re sure. But without the undertone of anger that comes along every other sentence; less bite. Erin has always been confident, but now she carries herself like somebody full of righteous indignation and nowhere to put it.

“You can have the rest of this,” she says, handing you the water and looking away like she’s read your whole thought process and wants out of the conversation quick. “Those six shots actually sound kind of appealing now.”

“Okay, well, see you later?”

She gives you a little thumbs up as she passes. You watch her elbow past the couple at the sink to reach the bottles and cups piled beside it. Already feeling more sober than you had when you walked in, you finish the cool water, resisting the temptation to start playing with the material of your skirt. 

“Hey, uh…hey.” You look over at Neil from your Physics class, recognising the sound of somebody trying and failing to remember your name. “Could you talk to Munson for me? Tell him I’m good for the money, it’s just that it’s another week before I get paid.”

You blink. The information takes a second to move from your ears to your brain, longer to process their whole meaning. You feel a flutter in your chest; something like excitement, something like relief. “Eddie’s here?”

“Yeah, and he’s making a really big deal out of twenty dollars, you know?”

You look over his shoulder as if Eddie might be standing out in the hallway, finding only the empty doorway. “Where is he?”

“Uh, he was by the stereo I think? So, you’ll talk to him?” 

“Um, sure,” you mumble, pressing past him to walk down the hall back into the living room. There’s May, laughing as Ethan tips his head back to drink, the table laden with a new set of cups. On the other side of the room, Heather, nodding at something and looking serious as ever. 

And then you catch him; a head of messy curls, denim on leather, the cut out t-shirt you know Eddie sewed on himself by hand. He’s standing right next to the stereo, sorting through records. His curls shift with a shake of his head and you just know his expression is dismayed, truly disappointed in the collection. To his side, a group of boys is searching their pockets, failing to hide their efforts to pool money together. 

Eddie’s presence pulls at you, an invisible but physical tug, and before you know it you’re crossing the room towards him. He jumps a little when you rest your palm on his back, his hand flying to his wallet chain. Then his brown eyes land on you, and you feel the unique joy of watching Eddie realising it’s you. His expression turns in an instant from guarded to happiness. Round eyes look you up and down once in surprise to confirm it’s you, once again in appreciation. He leans right into you, smile a little wolfish. “Well, hey. What brings you to my darkened corner, sweet thing?”

What can you say to that? That in the six, seven hours since you’ve seen him, you’ve felt the lack of his presence? That you’ve spent the last hour in particular wishing you’d never come here, wondering why you didn’t go home with him instead? 

“Was surprised to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, gesturing with his head to the boys behind him. “My services were required, you see.” His eyes track down again, zeroing in at the place on your legs where your dress ends, the fishnet tights wrapped around your thighs. “You look, uh,” he clears his throat, clearly searching for the right word. “Shit. I mean, fuck. You look good.” 

Your cheeks warm. You turn to the side a touch, pressing your knees together. “Thank you.”

“I um, really like these.” His hand teases the hem of your dress, thumb brushing across the string of your tights. Eddie’s fingers are a warm sting that has your breath catching, your body aching to be closer to him, to more of his heat. 

“Munson?” Sounds from behind him, and the spell is broken. Eddie jumps again, hand parting from your skin like he’d touched a hot stove. His hair flies around him as he turns, face becoming impassive again. 

“Gentlemen,” he says, standing in front of you. “Managed to pool your allowances?” 

“Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie’s head tilts. “For future reference, save the shit talk till after you have the product in your hand. Unless you wanna add another ten percent for the ounce-”

“No, it’s fine,” another says, elbowing his friend. “It’s all there.”

Eddie sighs, taking the collection of rumpled bills from his hand. You watch him stand in front of the antsy boys, counting each note twice over just to watch them squirm. “Mm. Looks like it’s all here.” He brings his wallet from his back pocket, attached to his jeans by a chain, and tucks the money inside. Then, after glancing around him quickly, Eddie’s right hand disappears into the front of his pants. 

“Kept it warm for you, boys,” he cackles, pulling out a plastic baggy filled with green clumps and hurling it towards them. 

In the next second, he’s grabbed your hand and is pulling you through the crowd to the sound of, “Munson, you prick!” from behind you. You can hear Eddie’s almost manic giggling over the music, your heart pounding from speeding after him and the fear of the chance at being followed by five boys, all half drunk and furious. 

Eddie’s hand remains tight around yours until the cool air out the front door hits your heated skin, finally slowing to catch his breath, still chuckling to himself. You watch him, wide eyed, as he leans back against the front wall, head falling back and then forward to look at you. His eyes flash, his face tells you he’s proud. 

“Why did you do that?” 

His laughter stops when he spies the serious look on your face, your hands fiddling with your skirt. “Ah, shit. Sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t plan for you to be around but there wasn’t much I could do, sweet thing. It was already down there, y’know?” 

“That’s not what I- Why would you aggravate them like that, Eddie?” 

Something a little cold comes over his face then. “Satisfaction, pure and simple,” he answers. “The only kind I can get out of guys like that.”

“But, if you didn’t speak to them like that-”

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “If I didn’t speak to them like that- Hell, if I gave them that weed for free, got on my knees and asked for an ounce of kindness, come Monday they’re still gonna throw me, or Jeff, or any of the guys from Hellfire into a locker,” he tells you, voice a plea for you to understand. “Or call me a freak, or lock one of the freshmen, who still barely know their way around the building, in a supply closet for an hour.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “It’s got absolutely nothing to do with me aggravating them or not, okay? It's not about how nice I am, or how I talk to them - it's about this," he stresses grabbing his long hair, then his shirt. "And this. And D&D and the fucking trailer and my piece of shit father. No amount of sweet talk will fix it cause they don't want me to be nice; they want me to change. And I can’t do that, okay? More importantly, I won’t do that.”

Everything he says makes your chest hurt.

It makes sense, that this is how Eddie Munson thinks. Since your first stumbled word, you’ve been hiding yourself away, blending into the crowd to avoid all the pain that comes with being singled out. But him? Eddie has no interest in curling in on himself, shrinking his personality to fit in. Everything he says, every move he makes, is unapologetic. As true to himself as that shirt. 

But it hurts to think that something so unnatural to you could be right. For all your good will, all your work and staying under the radar, it hasn't saved you. Your need to keep quiet only led to Caroline’s harshness, the laughter from the cheer girls. Your desperation to avoid judgement only opened all the right doors for Andy to hurt you the way he did, for everyone around you to know exactly how. All your complacency, all your acquiescence, none of it kept your friends nearly as close as you’d wanted them. 

You swallow, catch Eddie’s eyes, and whisper in earnest. “I don’t want you to change.” 

You could cry at the relief in his face, the fast blinking that vanishes the shine in his eyes. His head tilts. “No?”

You shake your head vehemently, wishing he would hold your hand again so you could play with his fingers. He pushes himself off the wall and leans into your space, hair falling towards you. You look between his eyes and his collar, debating hiding your face there. 

“Not even my driving?”  

“Okay,” you answer, watching his dimples press into his face. “Maybe I’d like you to change one thing.”

“I knew it!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up. “Sweet girls like you are only ever after one thing. You wanna fix me, huh?”

“No,” you whisper, smiling to the side. “Just, gently improve your interest in speed limits?” 

“Yeah? And what about my proclivity for pineapple and olive pizza?”

You chew the inside of your lip, suppressing giggles. “I think, given time, I can learn to live with it.” You feel a buzz of pride at Eddie’s laugh, the crinkle around his eyes he gets when he’s really, truly happy. “I do mean it, Eddie. I like you exactly as you are. More-” You take a breath. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

Eddie’s hand finds yours again, your fingers curling into his, your knuckles at his palm. 

“Like me enough to come home with me?” 

You want to. Desperately. The relief you felt at seeing him, your whole body telling you that you’d rather spend an evening with Eddie than here, navigating social circles you’ll never really be a part of. 

“I have to tell my friends first,” you say, watching Eddie nod. 

“Sure thing. I can wait.”

“Okay.” Your gaze travels between his eyes and his collar again, stalling your departure. You want a kiss. Want to kiss him all the time, even for a short goodbye. Eddie, sensing your hesitance to leave, narrows his eyes a little like he's trying to work you out. He catches your eyes dart to his lips, and they curve. 

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to you. It’s a perfect, innocent little thing. But you like it, like the domesticity you’re learning with Eddie. You want kisses goodbye and hello, his hand in yours in the car. You want elbows meeting sides while cooking together, waking up in the middle of the night just to hear Eddie breathing before you fall away again, catching sight of each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth in the morning. You want your daily life, with Eddie in it, with all the things he adds just by way of existing. 

You give him another quick peck, face hot, and run into the house before your mouth asks him to leave with you now and never come back. 

You find May in the kitchen, huddled together with a couple of the cheer girls as well as Ethan. She waves brightly when she catches sight of you, gesturing you over. “Hi!” She calls, hair mussed, clearly having continued to drink since you parted. “Where did you go?”

“Um, I was thinking I might go home,” you say, fiddling with your skirt. “M’tired.”

“Oh, are Heather and Patrick leaving too?”

“No, no. I ran into Eddie. He’s gonna give me a ride home.” 

You brace yourself, the back of your neck prickling with tension. You watch the expression on May’s face shift from confusion, not to anger or disappointment, but amusement. 

“Ohh-kay, you’re tired,” she laughs, shaking her head. You make a noise in embarrassment, checking to see if the rest of the group are listening in and she grins at you, pulling you into a quick, floral smelling, hug. “Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You give her a squeeze back, chest warm. “Yeah, later.” 

You give a half hearted wave to everyone else, navigating your way to the living room. Heather is where she has been all evening, under Patrick’s arm. “Hey,” you say, avoiding eye contact with the boys around her. “I’m gonna head.”

“Already?” Heather pouts. A quick throb or annoyance rises and falls, your anger that she wouldn't have noticed either way reasoned with the fact that it was your decision not to spend any time with this group. 

“Yeah, I’m tired.”

“I thought I was giving you a ride?” Patrick asks, leaning over.

"No, Eddie's gonna take me home."

There’s a moment of quiet, information sinking in before Patrick's face displays a shocked frown. "Eddie? Munson? You're getting in that scrap heap he calls a van?" 

You look from him to Heather, spy the clear guilt on her face when you say, "He's my boyfriend. Heather didn't tell you?" 

“She most certainly did not- when the fuck-”

“I’m sure she can fill you in,” you say, voice edging towards breaking, thinking about her encouragement, her fingers on the cross around her neck. Heather's mouth opens, her hand coming to that very pendant, and you shake your head. "Bye." 

She calls your name behind you, but doesn't come after you when you leave. 

Eddie is waiting for you still, balancing a seat on the porch rail and smoking when you emerge. A dimple presses into his face when he flicks the cigarette away and slides down. “All good?”

You grab his hand, bury your face into his shoulder to lean on him a little. Breathe in leather and drugstore shampoo - Eddie, Eddie, Eddie - until your heart stops throbbing painfully. 

“All good,” you mumble, turning your head to look at him from his shoulder. “Home?”

You realise how tired you are when you are settled in Eddie’s van, your eyes and limbs heavy. You half want to curl up in the soft seat and drift, but get taken in by watching Eddie as he drives. His fingers following the guitar licks of his music on the steering wheel, his hair shifting when he rocks his head forward. The way he glances at you when he turns, catches you staring and grins to himself every time. 

"You know, I didn’t really have you down as someone who’d be into paaarties,” he says, eyes wide with his mocking tone. He glances at you again, at your worn out state, and half closes an eye. “And I gotta say, you don't seem like you were having a good time."

You think about that for a minute, wondering how best to explain your complicated relationship with social events. “I like dancing with my friends,” you start with a shrug. “And getting ready.” You lean your head back. “It’s like the only time the three of us are together anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, glancing over at you. “Why’s that?”

Why is that? You’ve wondered it yourself. It felt like, suddenly, though maybe it happened very slowly without you realising, whatever delicate thread held you together started to strain as you moved in different directions. Or, as they did; leaving you lonely in the place you used to share. Waiting for them to visit, when it suits them. 

They changed. You stayed the same.

Only, you must have changed a little. You replay that last moment with Heather tonight in your head, wondering if you’ve ever shown her your hurt, your anger. Six months ago, you doubt you’d even have left at all. It’s more likely that you would have stayed, wishing to be anywhere else, until they wanted to leave. 

Eddie looks over at you following your long silence, adopts the soft, encouraging smile he gives you to show you he’ll wait for your answer, regardless of the reasons it’s taking you so long to find it. You get an inkling, then, of why you’ve changed, if only a little. 

“We’re all just…different than we were,” you say finally. 

“People change, I guess,” Eddie nods. “For better or worse.”

You think you might be better.

Exhaustion takes over when you cross the comforting threshold into Eddie’s home; the familiar smell and warmth of it sending a message across your body that you can relax now. You clean your teeth with the brush Eddie presented you with the first time you stayed over, scrub at your face with warm water until all that’s left are panda eyes you don’t have the fortitude to deal with. When Eddie takes his turn in the bathroom, you search through the little drawer he’d cleaned out for you to find soft cotton pyjamas that have your eyes drifting the second you have them on. 

When Eddie returns, you’re standing in the middle of the room fiddling with your hands, still a little worried about the assumption of getting into his bed when he’s not there. 

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he says, holding the covers open for you and tucking them over your shoulder when you’re settled on the good pillow, the one he insists you take every time. You watch, heart sore, as Eddie removes every one of his rings, counting the little metallic clanks as he drops them on the table. Then goes his bracelet, his watch and his wallet chain. You stare shamelessly as he pulls his shirt over his head, soft hair following the collar up, up, up, and dropping down again in a curly mass around his pale shoulders as the fabric pulls away. You hear the distinct clink of his belt, curl your knees up at the heat the sound sends through your core. Eddie wiggles his hips a little as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them ungracefully, kicking them off his heels. He stands before you in his blue plaid boxers, all pale tattooed skin. 

“You’ve been staring at me all evenin’,” he says, approaching you, dropping down in a squat so his face is right by yours. 

You can’t argue, but find yourself fiddling with the duvet, pulling it up to your cheek and half hiding in it to mumble into the polyester. “I like looking at you.” 

“Yeah? Well, looking’s free. Usually touching would cost you,” he says, reaching out with a finger to pull the cover down from your face and leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “But, uh, just between you and I, sweet thing, you can touch for free, too.” Your toes curl, glancing quickly at Eddie’s pink mouth, watching his lips tilt. “Need some of my services just now?”

“Yeah,”

He hums, his big hand capturing your cheek to tilt your face to his. Eddie’s kisses are gentle and warm. You taste dried toothpaste on his lips, the lasting smoke in his breath from that final cigarette. Then, when your kisses have turned too sleepy to last, just soft presses to his bottom lip, he climbs into the other side of the bed and reaches out for you, fingers wiggling. You tuck yourself into his side, and fall asleep quick. 

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You drift to waking, gently pulled from sleep by sunshine peeking through cheap blinds and the distant sound of a barking dog. You are comfortably cozy under the sheets. Even having shifted to either side of the bed in the night, no longer tangled, you can feel the heat of Eddie at your back. 

You half snooze for a long time, eyes drifting open to take in the contents of the room. The amps and the Corroded Coffin wall hanging, a closet slightly more full than the first time you were here, a floor still messy but less littered with piles of half clean half dirty laundry. Eddie’s acoustic guitar, his writing overtop in white, THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS. 

You close your eyes again. The next time they open, the room is brighter. Turning ungracefully, you come face to face with Eddie, and huff a soft laugh through your nose. Eddie’s hair in the morning is a beast, pressed to either side of his face from his tossing against the pillow. Some locks frizzed to the point of dullness, some still set in loose curls; both types tossed over the front of his face. Reaching out, you tuck each lock back until you can see him properly, every pretty feature of his face.

You consider trying to wake him, but find yourself simply shuffling closer, tucking yourself into him, nose at his neck. Eddie hums, one arm coming up instinctively to settle over your half asleep body. 

You finally jump awake to the sound of the front door falling closed in a swinging slam. Eddie blinks opposite you, fully registering the noise and your presence together. He hums, closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath through his nose and opens his mouth wide to yawn so loud he might as well have screamed. 

“Coffee, boy!?” Wayne calls as Eddie stretches and cracks his pale limbs. He glances at you in question. 

You chew the inside of your lip. “Should he know I’m here?”

Eddie takes this in for a second, then smiles. “I mean, he’s about to, either way.”

Regret at not having asked Eddie to set an alarm rids all the warm cosiness of the scene. Your face feels hot already at the thought of facing Wayne on a Saturday morning having clearly slept in this bed. “He’ll- he’ll think we-”

Recognition dawns on Eddie’s face, and he shakes his head quickly. “He won’t think anything, sweetheart,” he tells you, leaning in till he’s put himself in your eyeline. Eddie’s expression is earnest until it shifts into an amused smile. “I’ll even tell him you slept on the floor to preserve my innocence. Score you some points with the old man.”

Eddie’s sleepy laughter has some of the tightness in your chest abating. The sight of his eyes crinkling at the sides, dimples digging into his cheeks, is a treat you don’t usually get so early. 

“What time is it?” You ask, realising it may not be early at all if Wayne’s back. Eddie grabs his watch from the bedside table, blinks away residual blurriness.

“Nine thirty.”

Later than you’ve slept since school started back up, yet even now, the thought of curling back up in Eddie’s arms and snoozing for a little longer is an attractive prospect you’re seriously considering.

“I heard your caterwaul of a yawn, boy! How many coffee’s am I making!?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. You nod. He calls back. “Three! If you can count that high!”

The sounds of clinking mugs and sizzling oil mix with Eddie’s soft grunts as he gets himself dressed, jumping up and down to pull his jeans over his feet and searching through the closet for a t-shirt adorned with three angels, all smoking. 

He takes you in when he’s put his rings on, no doubt almost as messy haired as him, watching him from his bed. Brown eyes bright, Eddie leans in to give you a soft kiss. 

“Morning, sweet thing,” he says. His hand cups your cheek, letting you press into his wide palm. “Take your time, mm? I’ll assure Wayne my innocence remains intact.”

Your nose scrunches at his teasing, even as you turn to press a quick kiss to the centre of his hand. Eddie rubs a thumb under your eye, then shuffles out his door. Immediately, the noise of clinking plates is smothered by the exchange of familiar jabs and teases between the uncle and nephew. 

The days you’ve spent here have made you realise how special their relationship is. Not something less than father and son, but in fact something more. Wayne looks upon Eddie with the exasperated fondness of a dad, but reserves the true judgement they can be prone to. No passive aggressive comments about Eddie’s track record at school, nor questions about the way he dresses, despite the bookmarked King James bible that sits on the coffee table. He’s ruffled Eddie’s hair kindly every time he’s been here while you were doing homework, hung his latest C- graded test up on the fridge. Eddie told you Wayne bought him that acoustic guitar when he was thirteen, saved up for months to take him to a real music shop in Indianapolis and let him pick one out. 

You can see, even, the parts of Wayne that have filtered straight down to Eddie. Their humour overlaps, the way they can banter back and forth with each other, never crossing the line into hurt. Though, where Eddie can’t help but grin at a good joke, Wayne remains deadpan through every jibe. 

Wayne, when he gets talking, can spin a yarn the same way Eddie can. Stories about his nights at the factory, his old job driving trucks across the country, his youth, told not in a long ramble, but structured perfectly to have you on the edge of your seat. 

You know now that Eddie’s kindness, the way he treats you, was a gift from Wayne. His genuine interest in your life, your plans. His continual, earnest offer of food from his fridge every time he sees you. When your mom made a lasagne for you to take in thanks for all the evenings you’ve spent here, Wayne didn’t send the dish with Eddie to school, but drove to your house with it cleaned to a shine to hand it back and thank her personally. Soon after, Eddie let it slip that the daisies he brought you for your first date were bought at Wayne’s insistence. 

You’d wondered, that day at the lake, how a boy treated like Eddie is treated could be so bright and kind. 

Wayne was the answer. 

So you should be braver, emerging from Eddie’s room in that big hoodie of his he’d been lending you on and off and shorts you’d left here the last time you stayed over, no doubt still sporting panda eyes from last night. But you find yourself making use of the long sleeves, fidgeting with your fingers against the fabric. 

Eddie’s in the midst of getting his wrist thwacked with a spatula for attempting to steal a streak of bacon as Wayne transferred them from pan to plate. Gasping, he holds his hand in the air and lets his wrist fall limp. “I- I can’t feel my fingers!”

Wayne silently watches Eddie flop his hand back and forth, only a slight crinkle at his eyes suggesting he finds anything his nephew is doing at all amusing. When he catches sight of you, his gaze barely flickers from your messy hair to Eddie’s hoodie. “Mornin’,” he says, turning his back to a still howling Eddie to shake the pan. “Eggs? Bacon?”

The temptation to refuse, to be polite and pretend you don’t want anything from him prickles at the back of your mind. Only, experience has taught you he’ll only plate you up something anyway. There for you if you change your mind, something both he and Eddie say frequently.

“Please,” you nod. 

“You gonna set the table, Eddie?”

“How can I?” Eddie cries, wrapping his other hand around the injured arm and holding it up as if the ailment has moved all the way to his elbow. “With this!?”

Wanting to make yourself useful, you venture into the cutlery drawer yourself, giggling as Eddie shakes his limp hand at you, before pulling up the fold out table at the other side of the kitchen. “You’re on coffee duty then, Ed.”

Eddie gives up the routine at the prospect of picking out mugs, his eyes shining. It’s an activity he seems to enjoy deeply; shuffling over to the expansive collection and perusing them like he doesn’t already know exactly who’s getting what.

Eddie likes to give Wayne a novelty Garfield mug, something about the quiet, serious man drinking from the head of the large orange cat tickling him. For himself, a black mug with THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE printed in white letters around a cartoon duck. For a while, he has been trying out different mugs for you, showing the best of Wayne’s extensive collection. But he’s settled on a white NASA mug Wayne picked up on a trip to Houston. “For my smart girl,” he’d said the first time he handed it to you, expression all fondness and pride. 

Eating together is becoming familiar to you now. Wayne has picked up on your tendency to keep quiet the same way Eddie did, sometimes asking you questions but generally letting you decide when you want to speak without much prying. 

“You two got plans?” He asks, glancing briefly at you then turning to Eddie when you look unsure. 

“Uh, nothing solid,” Eddie says, focused on the construction of an increasingly complex breakfast sandwich. “But I was thinking about heading to Greenfield to pick up an album. I had loan of Accept’s newest record from Jeff before he remembered I had it.” His tongue peeks out at his concentration, topping the egg, bacon, hashbrown and tomato with a final piece of toast. “Didn’t think three months was too long to keep it. I mean, what’s an album between friends?”

You watch in near fascination as he manages to keep it all in tact through a large bite. He chews slowly, and swallows. “I’d welcome a road trip buddy if you’d be so inclined, Princess.” 

Your face warms at the name used in front of Wayne, but you nod. 

“There’s a good bookshop, too,” he says, clearly holding himself back from taking another significant bite. “S’where I got my copy of Orpheus.” He must see something, excitement probably, move across your face, because next Eddie is flashing a pleased smile. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

When you’re all finished, dishes washed by you at your gentle insistence, face scrubbed further with luke warm water from the tap and hair finger combed through, you leave a yawning Wayne to his fold out. 

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The shop, located two towns over from Hawkins, smells like the music room at your first school. The memory hits you as soon as you walk through the door; standing in three lines and belting out an off tune Amazing Grace with another thirty kids. Playing with claves and tambourines. Eddie seems in his element here, directing you through display shelves of pop and country records around a corner to the back where his kind of music is kept. “Course, some albums I just use the cassette,” he tells you, rifling through a couple of records. You look around the section yourself, counting up the albums you recognise from Eddie’s desk, his glove compartment. “But when I love an album I kinda have to get it on vinyl, you know?”

You don’t, not really. You have your own pile of albums in your room, all plastic rectangles ready for your cassette player or your walkman. Your dad has a collection of country records, your Mom some Joni Mitchell, the Crosby, Stills and Nash records she played constantly when you were a child. Before Eddie started asking you to pick out albums you thought looked good in his room, you hadn’t touched a vinyl since your aunt asked you to put on the White Christmas over the holidays. 

Eddie senses your confusion, and shrugs. “I mean, I wanna see the album art for real,” he tells you, finding one as an example. “Not quite as effective at four by three inches, right?” You recognise it immediately as Holy Diver. Eddie has a shirt with this cover on it; a demon standing over a priest splashing in water. He was wearing it that day in the woods, when you ran right up and kissed him. He takes the record from you when you nod, placing it back carefully. 

“And there’s albums a stereo just can’t do justice to. They’re useful when I wanna skip songs. But hearing it from start to finish? At the highest quality? It just needs a record. Ah-” He finds the album he came here for and shows you. A blue background, with a chrome, blocky heart shape filled with valves and pumps. "Metal Heart," Eddie explains. "Latest, and best, album by Accept. They're this German heavy metal band? The lead guitarist, Wolf Hoffman?” He sighs wistfully, looking off into the distance. “Man, what I'd do if I got him in a room alone.”

You make an awful snorting sound when you laugh, have to ignore the delight on Eddie’s face lest you burn up entirely. "So,” you start. “Heavy metal is different from regular metal, or is it just another term for it?”

Eddie's face lights up at the question, putting on a refined accent. "Heavy metal, young lady, is a type of metal that encompasses many genres,” he explains, bringing a hand up to add to the role. “For example, one could say all thrash metal is heavy metal, but only a simple fool, would seek to claim that all heavy metal is thrash metal. Do you follow?” His character falls apart at your giggle. “I said metal too many times, huh? Note taken. You wanna listen?" 

At your nod, Eddie walks you back round to the front towards a row of glass booths housing record players and headphones. You watch his hands move carefully, treating the record with the same care he uses to hold your hand. When it's in place, he dons the headphones and places the needle, nodding his head until it reaches the start of the particular song he wants you to hear. His hair fans out a little as he removes them, making to place them over your ears until you flinch and he jerks them back. 

 “A little loud,” 

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he says, turning a knob on the record player. “I forgot. Princess ears.” He replaces the headphones, eyebrows raising in question. The volume more manageable now, you nod happily, listening to pulsing guitars build in intensity, joined by thrashing drums and eventually the telltale screeching voice that immediately transports you into Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of his life. 

Eddie’s eyes are all soft excitement, shining at you, watching for your reactions. 

If you had to make a list of all the things to like about Eddie, his passion would surely sit near the top. The way he fizzes all over to talk about music, and Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings. The way he’s desperate to share his interests with you. Not out of expectation for you to feel exactly the same about any of it, and certainly not with any assumptions that you should understand it already. Just to share, to let you in, to show himself to you. 

You wish you were more like him, that way. That you weren’t more comfortable hiding, keeping bits of yourself under lock and key lest their exposure leave the most delicate parts of you open to attack. You try to imagine Eddie using anything like that against you. You remember him leaning across the table to you on your first date, listening to you ramble about wyverns and etymology while your feet tapped your anxiety out onto the floor. He’d thanked you for sharing. Very metal, he’d said. 

Three minutes in, and you realise Eddie’s been playing the whole song in his head, because he brings his hands up to follow the chords playing in your ears with an imaginary guitar, hair shaking as he throws his head back and forth. Then he flashes his smile, soft cheeks displaying his dimples and smile lines.

You can’t help it. 

You step forward until your feet are patterned with his. You reach out for his sleeve, playing with the chains keeping the left connected across his wrist. Eddie’s still watching you when you tilt your chin, leaning towards him to press your lips to his. Anxiety prickles along your spine, but you know that nobody can see you. Even better, you know that Eddie is between you and the door, hiding you from the world. With the distinctive chains of his jacket in your fingers, his music sounding through your headphones, his lips on yours; everything around you is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

Safe, safe, safe. 

He pulls away with a huff of breath against your lips, giving you a series of chaste pecks like he isn’t quite ready to stop kissing you entirely despite protesting lungs. Your face burns, but it’s worth it for the way Eddie is staring at you when you finally open your eyes. 

“What was that for?” He mouths, gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

You bring your foot up, pressing the top of it to the back of your ankle and sliding it up and down your calf. A braver version of you would say what every part of you is screaming. Instead you shrug, still fiddling with his sleeve. Eddie tilts his head, clearly unsatisfied, but doesn't press you. 

"I like this," you tell him as it finishes, removing the headphones. 

"Well, that settles it," he answers, sliding the record from the player back into its sleeve. "You're coming home with me." 

You watch Eddie navigate the shop like it's a second home. He stops off at the cassettes, rifling through for anything new, anything he might not have heard before. He grabs a couple blank tapes too, looks at you to the side with pink cheeks. "In case I wanna make any more mixtapes." 

At the desk, Eddie places everything down carefully while you wait at the empty till. After a good thirty seconds, you start playing with the rings on Eddie's left hand while his other raps against the wooden desk. "Uh, hello? Anybody- ah, shit." 

"Munson," says the bespeckled boy who emerges from the back room. 

Eddie’s fingers twitch, and you cease your fidgeting to look up at him, find his face pulled taught. "Oh, hi. I, uh, didn't think you worked on Saturdays anymore." 

"Switched to the weekend shift," he answers, stony faced. "That gonna be a problem for you? Surely you’re not still in highschool?"

Eddie frowns, hand twitching again as he sighs. "Listen, man, I'm not looking to argue-"

"Don't know why else you'd show your face. You know your money's no good to me." 

Eddie slumps, all the easy happiness pulled from him. He hasn’t looked at you once, and your heart aches. 

"I'm buying these," you declare, searching through your bag for your purse. Tissues, no, lipgloss, no, mixtape, no. 

They both turn to you. The boy behind the desk takes you in finally, his nose wrinkling. "Oh yeah? You a metal fan?" 

"Mm hmm,” you say, voice higher than you’d like. 

"Okay, name three Metallica albums."

You glance at Eddie, find him rolling his eyes until you ask. “But Metallica only has two albums, right?" 

Eddie’s immediate smile is warmth inducing, causes you to shuffle with shy pride. You thrust out the money in your hand, start gathering up the items again to place in your shopping bag while Eddie grins in the face of the scowling man. 

"Whatever,” he says finally. “I don't wanna see you around here again, Munson." 

Eddie gives him a little salute, then grabs the bag from you and takes your hand to leave.

"Jesus," he breathes as soon as the bell announcing the doors closure sounds. "You can't talk like that, sweet thing. We're in public. You’ve-" He scratches at the back of his neck. “You’ve really been listening to me talk about it all the time, huh?”

You frown. “Of course, Eddie. I like it,” you answer, tugging his hand to start the walk back to the van. “Who was that?" 

Eddie’s smile drops. "Uh, Peter? We actually, kinda used to be friends. I introduced him to all his favourite bands back in the day, you know? Then suddenly he’s the gatekeeper of metal- I mean it’s a fucking joke.” He opens the side door, placing your bag behind the front seat. “S'how I met Gareth, really. Poor kid couldn't name two Dio albums so he gets insulted buying the latest one, what the hell is that? We all have to start somewhere. I mean, when I met that guy he was a U2 fan. Anyway-” he continues, closing the door. “I told him he was being a dick and he got all pissy about it." 

You chew your lip. "He acts that way, because you called him a dick?"

Eddie blanches, his head falling back with a quick groan. "Okay, I wanna add a disclaimer that I was sixteen and dumb," he starts. "And he really was being a dick, acting like- like all those guys metalheads are supposed to hate in the first place, and-" 

"And?" 

"And I hit him. Real gentle. With my fist." 

"Eddie,"

"Sweet thing, even you woulda decked him if you'd been there. I swear. And, I just can't fucking stand that shit, you know?" 

You do know. Eddie is all gentle touch and soft smiles around you, but something changes in him when he’s witness to injustice. He'd had to miss a date just last week because he had detention, brought about by standing over a sophomore who'd dared to mess with one of the freshmen in Eddie's club. "You make one vague threat about human sacrifice and suddenly everyone's got an opinion on what constitutes bullying," he'd complained later. "If teachers aren’t gonna teach that kid not to be a cunt, why shouldn't I scare it out of him?" 

You've heard him call the whole group his little sheep, laughing like he doesn't kind of mean it. Like he doesn't think of them as weird kids he'd gathered together in something of a herd, a pack. Like he doesn't think of himself as their shepherd, as their protector. 

"Point is," he says now. "He's the one in the wrong, I swear. Shit. I can't believe he works weekends now." 

"Well, I can go in for you." 

"Yeah? You can set him straight, my baby metalhead. Fuck- didn't even say thank you. Was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't half fucking hard-" You make a soft noise and Eddie blinks, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. How much was it again?"

You press a toe to the top of your other shoe shyly. "Can't I buy you them?" 

"Huh?"

"Like a gift?" 

Eddie’s face twists. You thought he was just being a gentleman, when he’d paid sneakily on your first date. You know now that’s only part of it. He likes driving you places but won’t accept gas money, likes making you dinner at his home but won’t let you pay for groceries when you tag along on errands. The only thing he doesn’t get twitchy about is your baking, but that’s because you’re there eating them too. You think this might further influence from Wayne; a certain pride, a refusal to accept anything monetary from you. 

"But, sweet thing-"

"Please, Eddie?" 

He watches you, conflicting emotions passing along his expression. "Okay. But you’re picking out a book. A real fancy one. I wanna see leather binding yeah? And one of those little ribbons attached, okay?" 

Your toes curl, nodding happily. "Okay."

You feel more at home as you walk through a glass door to the smell of old paper and ink. 

Joan Baez croons from the record player in the corner. The woman at the register nods as you enter but offers no other greeting. Eddie follows after you when you make a beeline to the poetry section; full of battered, well loved books with cracked spines and fading covers. 

You send Eddie a shy look, spine prickling from being watched in what feels like a solitary activity. You rub your thumb at a dusty shelf, wondering how to tell him, when he leans in a little. "Hey, you’ve been taking all my music recommendations. Anything for me to read?”

“Oh,” you say, mind lighting up before dimming at the thought of being too pushy, or recommending something he might hate. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” he says, leaning in more until he's all you can see, tilting his head until you’re looking into his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

You chew the inside of your lip. “Mm. Maybe- Have you ever read The Metamorphosis?” 

Eddie leans back, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Can’t say I have.”

“I think,” you consider it again. “I think you’d like it. It’s about, well- A man turns into…an insect.” You simmer over the fact you want to share, let yourself believe that Eddie will be as willing as always to hear it. “It was written in German, and the word for what he turns into literally translates to, like, an animal you can’t sacrifice. Like, vermin?” Eddie’s watching you round off this information in a rush, smiling a little. “Kafka, the writer, didn’t want the actual animal to be specific. But sometimes it’s mistranslated and people say he turns into a beetle, or…or a cockroach,” you trail off, cringing at the sound of yourself. “I’m not selling it very well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answers. “Sounds suitably weird. Kafka, you said? I’ll get searching.”

Eddie disappears round the corner, leaving you to comfortable contemplation of the poetry selection. Rilke's entire works, some Wilde, some Shelley. You search for something new and land on a name you've never heard. Drawing it from the shelf, you peer at the cover, a silhouette of a bridge bathed in orange, with the Selected Poems by Marina Tsvetaeva printed above. 

You read a couple of the shorter poems, struck by her voice, her imagery. Turning to a random page, see the original Russian on one side, the English translation on the other. The title, asking the question, Where Does Such Tenderness Come From? Your heart pangs in recognition of her feelings as you read, the best part of poetry always finding yourself reflected back at you. 

You and your eyelashes - she writes. Longer than anyone’s, as if she knows about the eyes you wish you had the confidence to stare into without respite.

“Found anything?”

You jump, closing the book quickly as if you’d been reading something illicit. Eddie gives you a quick up and down look, keeping his distance until your shoulders drop their tension. “Yes,” you say, turning the book so he can see the cover. “I’d never even heard of her but I like her already.”

“Enough to kick poor Rainer off the top spot?”

You feel that strange warmth that comes with being known, the little reminder of things that Eddie has learned and remembered about you. “Not quite, but I’ll still give her a chance.” You glance down at the book in Eddie’s hands, glad to see he’s grabbed your recommendation. “You like it?”

“Seems weird as fuck,” he confirms matter of factly. “So it’s almost like I’m contractually obliged to read it, you know?”

He pulls the new book gently from your hands, retrieving his chained wallet from his back pocket. "My turn," he says with an unusual seriousness. “You want any others?”

You shake your head, lean up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, surrounded and sheltered as you are by shelves and books. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Nah,” he says, face a soft pink. 

Later, when Eddie has followed you perusing shop windows, and you are full up on drive through fries, eaten in the front of Eddie’s van as you listened to his story of negotiating $20 of payment between his entire band for their nights playing at the Hideout, Eddie drives you back, glancing over at you every so often like he wants to say something, but turning his head back to the road every time instead.

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You feel relaxed, content, sitting comfy on the couch outside of Eddie’s trailer. He popped his head in earlier and found Wayne still sleeping, so you settled here to read in companionable silence. You, discovering more of Marina’s voice, drifting back again and again to the one poem that makes your chest full. 

Eddie lies with his head resting on your lap, flicking through the short novella. You play with his hair throughout, curling locks around your fingers and stroking his fringe back from his forehead. Occasionally, you glance down at him, taking in his furrowed brow and eyes shining wet at a couple moments. 

“Well, that was fucked up!” Eddie cries, snapping the book shut and somehow managing to whisper a yell. “He just dies? And they don’t care?”

You close your book to focus on him, resting it next to you. You let your fingers tangle into his hair, scratching softly. Eddie, even in his indignation, tilts his head towards the satisfying feeling like a cat. “Mm. That’s the point. He was living his life for his family, but they didn’t really care about him.”

“Yeah, but there’s not caring about someone and there’s hurtling fruit at them,” he reasons. “That Kafka guy had issues, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

You crack a shy smile. “I think he’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie’s dimples tease you. “You’re a freak.” 

Your stomach flips at the affection in his voice, fingers stilling in his hair for a second before resuming their gentle caress. 

It hits you then, watching Eddie's pretty face, that you’re going to be alone with him again through the night, without interruption, and your throat lumps. As if he realises at the same time, Eddie sits up, hair still at angles from your exploring hands. His mouth opens, then closes again, his eyes flicking from your face to your hands where you’ve started fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

Forcing yourself to take on his example, you ask, “what are you thinking, Eddie?”

“Big question,” he says. “But uh, I guess, I never thought…I never thought sex was that important, you know? Hell, I lost my virginity in the bathrooms at the Emerson Theatre.” His eyes scrunch closed as soon as he says it, like he regrets letting that particular detail slip right now. When one opens, and finds you smiling at him encouragingly, he sighs with his whole body. “And, I hope you know that it wouldn’t matter to me if you had been with somebody else,” he continues, eyes wide. “Like, at all. But at the same time, I’m happy I’m first, you know? Cause I know I can look after you. I can give you what you deserve. Which, again, technically should be a big fancy bed and linen sheets, but some people have absolutely no patience, so-”

“Eddie,” you groan. But it has no bite. You’re already smiling at him, grabbing at his palm to play with his fingers, heart full. 

He clears his throat. “So yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. Also seeing you naked, obviously. But that takes up a good 30% of my brain pretty much all the time so it’s not entirely relevant here.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laugh, watching him clutch his chest in mock hurt.

“I just bared my soul to you!” He cries, watching your giggles incredulously. “Do’st thou mock me? Have you no heart, woman?”

You bury the rest of your laughter in his neck, feeling a kind of dizzy happiness that makes it hard to stop. Eddie’s chest shaking under your cheek tells you that he’s as affected, a hand coming up to stroke at your hair as the mirth fades. Turning to look at where your hands have started up playing with his fingers again, you think about what you want to say.

“Eddie,” you whisper, pulling from his neck, looking between his eyes and his forehead as you search for the bravery he has in spades, the ease to tell him that it always had to be him. 

Only, the front door of the trailer opens, revealing a sleepy looking, shirtless, Wayne. 

“Oh, Jesus, have some decorum, man!” Eddie yells, covering your eyes with his hand. 

“Evenin’, Eddie,” he says, followed by your own name. You wave, blinking to Eddie’s palm. “Get everything you wanted?”

“Yup, sweet girl bought me my very own Metal Heart,” he grins, tapping the album where it sits at his side on the couch as you wrestle his arm away. “Sleep well?”

“As good as I can.” He answers earnestly. “Just makin’ coffee then I’ll hit the road. You want anything?”

"I want you to put some clothes on!"

“No, thank you,” you answer over him, shaking your head and leaning into Eddie’s arm. When Wayne's gone, you glance up, find those soft eyes, those long dark eyelashes. Longer than anyone's. 

"What are you thinking?" 

You answer honestly. "That you're gonna look after me." 

"I will," he nods, sounding almost stern. "As long as you want me to." 

You wish it was easy to say, but all you can do is think it. 

Always, always, always.

Wayne leaves with a gruff goodbye, a reminder to Eddie that there's left over pasta in the refrigerator. You remember the first time you were here at the same time as Wayne, the almost desperate rush to get into Eddie's room the second he was gone. 

Now, you and Eddie stay, settled into one another for a long while after, until the sun has moved from high overhead to just behind the trees in front, turning the scene to a silhouette backlit with orange light. Eddie disappears, comes back with bowls of that pasta. You talk about school, and Eddie's band. He explains more about thrash metal, you tell him your new favourite German word you’d learned only yesterday. When the orange fades to blue-black, Eddie looks over at you. 

"Ready?"  

You wonder what it means, that despite the increasing thrum of your heart in your chest, you don't even have to think about it. "Yes."

He holds your hand all the way to his room, guiding you through like you don't know how to find his bed at the end. When the door is closed, sheltering you from the world outside, you wrap your arms tight around him, give yourself the comfort of hiding in his collar, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath. 

Eddie hums, his hand coming to that space at the back of your neck that eases everything in your body that you’re used to holding tight. “How you feeling, honey?”

“Good,” you mumble. Then, wondering if he can feel the heavy beat of your heart. “Nervous.”

“Okay,” he says, fingers stroking and squeezing at your tender skin. “What are you nervous about? Anything we can fix?”

You let that thought sit. You are still learning how much Eddie means it when he says things like that. Still practising the belief that Eddie wants you to share your worries, carry some of the burden for you. The responsibility of trying to shed the weight, the disappointment of knowing some of it just has to be carried.

You’re resigned to telling him, but finding the exact reason for the nerves twisting your stomach takes its own time. With anyone else, you’d be worried about pain, about what happens if you have to stop. These concerns float away on their own at the feeling of Eddie’s hand stroking at you, his lips pressing kisses at your temple. Then you land on it, and press your face deeper against the softness of his shirt.

“I don’t know, I guess- What should I do?” You ask, voice small. “So it’s good for you, too.”

You feel his sigh from the rise in his chest, the shake of his head from the brush of his hair against your cheek. 

“Will you look at me?” He asks, waiting for you to tilt your head to find him. “You want the truth?” You nod, chin still tight to his shirt. Eddie’s eyes narrow a touch, leaning down conspiratorially. “It will feel good for me,” he starts, his free hand rubbing at your waist. “If we can get your pussy all soft, first.” A surprised throb between your legs has you clenching down on nothing, close to whimpering at the gentle roughness of Eddie’s voice. “All soft, and wet enough that I can just slide in, fill you up easy. Making you cum on my cock, sweet thing. That’s what’ll feel good, for me.” Eddie gives you a wolfish grin as he starts walking you backwards towards his bed, raising his eyebrows in question. “Think we can do that?”

It’s easy, then. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm, my good girl,” he says, holding you with the backs of your knees pressed to the side of his mattress, his nose at your temple. “Can I kiss you?”

Even easier. “Yes, Eddie.”

His lips press soft across your cheek and down to your mouth, warm and waiting for him. He's gentle with you, none of the fierceness you've felt in Eddie's kisses more recently. Like he's restraining himself, learning how you like to be touched in the lead up to something new. Your hands find his shoulders, soft cotton of his shirt, and rub at the fabric. His tongue flicks subtly against your bottom lip, but you're already desperate to taste him for real, letting him press deeper without any more prompting. 

You feel it at the sound of his laugh, the sudden curve of his lips, the huff of air from his nose against your cheek. The addictive high of showing Eddie how shameless he makes you, the knowledge that he sees you as you are. Not a wallflower here, or a naïve girl. Not an ingénue, to be taken advantage of, or protected from corruption. 

With Eddie, you can be as you are. Inexperienced and desperate in equal measure, as nervous as you are sure. 

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, pulling away only to blink down at you for a couple seconds before he captures your mouth again, tongue pressing to yours, hot and wet. You whine slowly, rising in volume, your fingers clasping at him. "S'alright," he soothes, giving you another press to your pout. His hand rubs at the back of your neck, encouraging you to lean your head into his support, give him space to leave plush kisses down the side of your throat. 

"Eddie," you whisper, softer than you'd expected. Not a moan, or even a plea for more. Just to say it, to feel the shape of his name in your mouth again. 

"So sweet," Eddie says, voice a wonderful vibration against your sensitive neck. "Sweetest girl I've ever seen- fuck. Can I?" His hands tug at the hem of your sweater and you nod desperately, helping him pull it off over your head. His lips return to your skin the second the material is on the floor, a wet press down to the softness of your chest. You feel his smile, his excited breath. He sucks, pulls at your flesh until it aches and you squirm. “Mm,” he sighs. “Can’t help it. Wanna mark you up-”

Gentle hands peel your bra from your chest, the tenderness vanishing with his tongue finding the pert bud of your nipple, treating the sensitive peak to wet warmth and friction that has your toes curling. The quick scrape of teeth makes you bat at Eddie's shoulder even as your body tilts to follow his mouth when it retreats. 

He gives the other similar treatment, groaning when your fingers drift upwards to tug at his hair. Another little squeak at the graze of his teeth and he’s pulling away to look at you. Your heart jumps at the sight of him, hair mussed from burying himself into your skin, face a light pink, lips wet and kissed dark. The way his eyes flick about you, you’re sure you must be in a similar state. 

Eddie’s throat bobs. “Wanna sit up on the bed, there?”

You nod, letting him help you up to the mattress and stand between your swinging legs.

“Need to go over something else, before we really get started,” he tells you, walking you back to sit on the bed, legs swinging off the side. Eddie drops to his knees to take your ankle in hand and pull at your laces. He sets your sneakers to the side, pings your socks over after them. He presses tickling kisses up your calves, eyes all bright when you laugh and kick at him slightly. 

Once he’s back at your height, his hands move to your waistband, thumbing at the button of your shorts. “You know that any time you wanna stop, you just say, okay? I mean it, sweet thing.” He pops the button, pulls at the zip. When his hands smooth under the denim to your hips, helping pull them down, he continues. “Doesn’t matter when. Even if I’m making this face-” He scrunches his nose up and lets his tongue hang out in a gross approximation of his expression when he cums and you can’t help but cover your eyes at the image. “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not what you look like!”

“That’s right, you’re the expert now, huh? This better?” He asks, stretching his lips flat and crossing his eyes. 

“Stoh-op!” You cry, somewhere between giggly and mortified. Eddie’s face settles back into its regular pretty softness, all shining amused eyes and laugh lines. 

“That’s exactly what you say to me if you want me to, mm? Or slow down or anything else you want, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “Will you,” you swallow, playing with the neckline of his shirt. “Can you keep talking to me? While…”

“You say that like I'm gonna be able to stop talking. Hips up, sweetheart,” he says, helping you lie back so he can pull at your shorts. “Nah,” he breathes, hands disappearing to drag his shirt over his head. “You’ll be sick of my voice by tomorrow.”

Eddie helps you shuffle up the bed, your head falling easy to the good pillow. 

“Never,” you tell him, arms opening to pull him in. He finds your mouth again, kisses a little more desperate, already a touch breathless. Your fingers brush at the back of his hair, soft curls between his shoulder blades. 

Eddie’s hand dances over the soft skin of your stomach, pulling giggles from you when he hits ticklish spots. His fingers edge at the frilled waistband of your panties, waiting for your hips to tilt towards him to dip inside. 

“Oh, honey,” he says with a gentle pout, fingers meeting the hot wet warmth between your legs. “Should’ve told me you were feelin’ desperate.”

Your thighs twitch at the first gentle circle around your clit. Eddie’s thick fingers, the roughness at their ends that catches the sensitive bud so perfectly with each little rub. Already your mind feels light with pleasure, body sinking into the bliss of being touched by Eddie. You’re caught between watching his hand where it disappears, the impression of his knuckles moving under blue cotton, and pulling up the courage to stare back at Eddie as he scans every twitch of your face. He grins at you when you manage to turn to him, licking his lips quickly. The little peek of his tongue, the memory of all the ways it makes you weak for him, has your legs kicking and twitching.  

“Feels good, yeah?” He asks, eyes flickering to your lips as they open to let out a moan. “Want me to open this pussy up, sweet thing? Get you ready for me?”

You like that, enough that you nod desperately without thinking twice. “Yeah, want- please, Eddie?”

“Jesus,” he huffs a laugh, his fingers easing downwards only to drag slick from your pussy back up to your twitchy clit. “So fucking good, baby. Say please again?”

Your hips tilt up, chasing his hand though he makes no move to deprive you of it. Your whole body feels hot; from his words, his voice, as much as his touch. When you chance a look in Eddie’s eyes, all the warm brown has been swallowed up, leaving his gaze dark and intent on you. You curl your fingers into his shoulder, stare at the pick hanging from his necklace, swaying with the subtle movement of his torso following the pace of his arm. “Please, please, Eddie.”

You make a high noise of protest when his fingers pull away from your bud, shivers running up your spine at Eddie’s patronising coo, the jutting of his plush bottom lip. “Like I said, no patience. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He sighs, pushes at your thighs to catch a glimpse of the dark, sodden material between your legs. “Just gotta get these off you, give me space to work, hm?” 

Eddie disappears from your side, moving down the bed to sit between your legs. His fingers hook quick into your waistband to pull your panties down your thighs. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, rubbing the wet cotton between his fingers. “Maybe you can be patient. You been wet all day, pretty?” You watch him lean over, hooking your panties over the headboard.

“Eddie,”

He only flashes you a grin, hand strokes at your thigh, fingers digging into the softness to push your leg back. You feel the sticky split of your cunt as it opens up for him, the wave of cool air against your heat. 

“Fuck, look at her,” Eddie breathes, dropping down to his front. His wide eyes blink in near fascination, like it’s anything new to him, watching your cunt flex and shine. “You want two?”

You clench down at the thought. “Yeah.”

Eddie hums, nips at the skin of your leg as he drags his fingers through your slick. The first press inside is a good stretch, lacking the edge of pain that comes with three. They sink inside easily with a wet noise that would have you squirming away if you weren’t so fuzzy in the head, so desperate for the pleasure Eddie’s touch promises. The pads of his fingers find the spot at the end of you that he has mapped out, pussy fluttering around his fingers in protest every time they leave to press back in. 

“Feels good?” Eddie asks, rubbing his face against your leg. You hum. “You want another?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, craving more, wanting everything. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm. Open those legs just a little more, baby- yeah, good girl.”

Eddie gives you one final press of his lips to your thigh as he withdraws his fingers, stroking at you again to gather your slick across all three. You feel the blunt ends of his digits at your entrance, the first push and-

“Oh,” you whine, the familiar ache nothing compared to the euphoria of Eddie’s tongue coming to lap at your sensitive clit. Your hands fly down to his hair, clenching around soft curls as if there’s any possibility he might pull away. He groans, sending a pleasant thrum across your nerves. “Eddie, please.”

Your hips twitch when his fingers meet resistance half way deep, but Eddie stops his approach before you have time to register any discomfort. Clenching tight around his half buried fingers, Eddie lathes his tongue, wide and wet, from where his digits disappear inside to the top of your pussy. Your legs kick again, clit throbbing under his attention. He waits patiently for your body to relax into the pleasure, gently pulling his fingers back before pressing even deeper into your supplicating cunt. 

“S’good, Eddie,” you whine, thighs pressing at the sides of his head without your wherewithal. All you know is you can feel him everywhere you need him most. His curls in your hands, tickling the sensitive insides of your legs. His tongue on your clit, gentle sucks that feel like kisses. His fingers filling you, stretching you and rubbing just right at the top wall of your cunt to send tingles along your spine. Ecstasy builds everywhere you can feel him, from a aching twitch between your legs to a wave that passes over your entire body. 

Eddie’s name escapes you on repeat without shame. You hear him curse, feel the breath of it against your clit, as you squeeze tight around his fingers, pulsing with each peak of the high. 

You finally slump into the mattress again, boneless and tingly. You ignore the wet sound produced by Eddie’s hand leaving your pussy, focusing on how he grins at you as he crawls up your body to settle over you, eyes crinkled at the sides with his satisfaction. 

“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he laughs, leaning down to plant a breathless kiss to your lips. “Thought your thighs weren’t ever gonna let me up. Started planning a life down there, you know?” 

You giggle, but can’t think of anything clever to say back, caught up in the perfect view of Eddie above you. Pink and lightly freckled, lips dark, the entire bottom half of his face shining from looking after you until he drags your slick to his tongue with his thumb. His hair falls forward like a curtain around your faces, tickling your cheeks until you reach up to tuck it back. He leans absent mindedly towards your hand then, enjoying the warmth of your palm. 

As you caress Eddie’s face, he gives you a gentle, wide eyed look. “You still wanna?” He asks, a little rushed. “Cause we can stop right here.”

“I want to,” you answer, just above a whisper, but sounding as sure as you ever have done. “If you do.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he hasn’t quite registered the full meaning. Then, as if he’s taken it in, “yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Eddie climbs off the bed, leaning over his bedside table to search through the drawer, hands emerging with a box labelled TROJAN and a bottle of clear liquid. You watch him fumble a little with the box until it opens, and pull out a square wrapper that has your face feeling hot, as if the presence of condoms is any more illicit that how Eddie has been touching you already. 

“Look away!” Eddie jokes when he finds your eyes on him as he pulls at his belt. “Gotta keep my modesty in tact.”

You jokingly cover your eyes, hearing his laughter along with the clink of his belt, his zip pulling open. The mattress dips with Eddie’s return, and you peek through your fingers at him before settling your hands at your sides. Your mind fizzes at the sight of Eddie naked, settled on his knees between your thighs. Your eyes trace all the ink that decorates his torso, the softness of his stomach. The patches of dark hair on his chest, between his legs. His cock is a dark pink, swollen enough that the tip kisses his stomach. Eddie drags a hand over it with a soft groan like he’s been tortured by the wait. If he registers your staring, he doesn’t point it out, focusing on tearing open the foil wrapper and pulling a clear condom down over his length with a sigh. 

Your fingers pull at wrinkles in the sheets as Eddie squirts some clear gel from the bottle into his palm, dragging his hand over his cock again to spread it. “What- what’s that?”

“Oh, uh, lube?” Eddie says, throwing the bottle down on the mattress with a bounce. “Makes it easier to, like, move I guess.”

“But-” You’d press your knees together if Eddie weren’t settled between them. “I’m wet.”

Eddie’s eyes flash, lips quirking. “You are, huh?”

“Eddie,” 

“Mm. I know, sweet thing. But a little extra never hurt, mm?” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

“Okay,” he answers. “I think it’ll be easiest like this, probably?” He drags the spare pillow from his side, tapping your hips gently to place it under you, tilting your body up to him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. S’good.”

“Okay,” he breathes, shuffling forward. With one hand, he strokes gently at your thigh. The other finds your pussy, his thumb playing with clit until you’re feeling pleasured and loose, settled back onto the bed with fluttering eyes. “Still want this, Princess?”

You stare at him, heart sore as you take in his open expression. You can see the evidence of how desperate he must be, how much he wants this. But he looks at you, and you know he meant it when he said you could stop at any time, that he isn’t expecting anything from you, even now.

This body of yours is used to freezing up, follows a routine of tensing and shaking at questions less serious than this. You breathe, swallow, force yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you, Eddie.”

He watches you, searching for your certainty. You smile, a nervous thing, but real, and he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go slow. If it hurts, you say, yeah? Or kick me in the balls - whatever’s easiest.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him, your body feeling loose and relaxed by the time you feel the tip of him catch at your entrance. You make a soft noise at the back of your throat, wanting to watch him but also wanting desperately to keep yourself relaxed and open. You close your eyes, feel the softness of Eddie’s sheets under your fingers.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie murmurs, still circling your clit as the tip of him sinks inside. You feel the aching stretch of him, the pleasant warmth of Eddie’s cock under rubber. He’s saying something, talking to you like he promised, but you’re focused on your breath, on fighting the urge to bear down on him. 

He must be a couple inches deep when he stops and pulls back only to press forward again and you think, for a second, you will be able to lay back and take all the pleasure Eddie always gives you, but-

His thumb circles just perfect at your clit and your pussy flutters, the new tightness resisting the slow press of his cock. It’s a sudden, shocking hurt that has your hips flinching to another stab of pain. Before you can help it your body is tensing all over, a soft pained sound escaping your throat. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says, voice rough, and that the squeeze of your pussy must feel good doesn’t even register. You can only think that he must be as frustrated with your body as you are. Not in control, but a witness to it falling back into routine, pulling taught even as Eddie starts hushing softly. The more you tense, the tighter you feel, the pleasant ache of him pushing inside quickly turning to a stinging stretch that has you clenching fists in the sheets, tears springing to your eyes. 

Eddie pulls out from you, and your chest throbs.  

“I’m sorry,” you cry, wanting to close your legs and hide away from him. 

Eddie’s warmth doesn’t vanish as you fear. In fact it grows as he leans over you, an arm coming to circle your waist. You feel his free hand at your hair, stroking it back from your face. “Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, his breath a gentle caress against your cheek. “You’re in that head, mm? C’mon out.”

The tears that had been bubbling under your eyelids spring free when you open them, tracking down your cheeks as Eddie shakes his head. He wipes each of them away with his thumb until they stop coming. “Sweet thing,” he breathes. “It hurt, and you needed to stop. It’s okay.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again and you lean into it, resting your palm at the back of his hand as you sigh. Your fingers weave with his, everything better now that you can touch him, now that you can’t run away into your head away from his voice, so close to you.

“Wanna get dressed? We can watch something, mm?”

You shake your head immediately, feeling determined. “Can we try again?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to, Eddie.” You assure, hoping he believes you. You rub your cheek into his palm again. “But, can we stay like this?”

There’s a pause as Eddie blinks at you, then his mouth turns up. “Wanna change tactics, huh, Princess?” You nod, watching as he pulls away briefly to help pull the pillow out from under your hips, his hands pressing at your thighs so he can settle properly between them. You whine softly at the feeling of him, still hard and pulsing, between your legs. 

Eddie comes back to you with a kiss, lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, get your fingers pressed to his warm skin, playing with the ends of his hair. 

“Forgot who I was dealing with, didn’t I?” He says, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock drags over your twitchy clit. Your toes curl, the ball of your foot stroking a little at the back of Eddie’s calf as your legs curl round him. “My girl needs to touch me all over, huh?”

Eddie grins down at you, wiggles his hips just to hear you gasp at the friction of your clit, feel the way your digits dig at him, your right hand rubbing at a lock of his hair. Tension pours from your body at the weight of him all over you, the chance to watch Eddie’s joy at touching you, the pleasure he feels in tandem with yours at every roll of his hips.. 

He kisses you again, then both your cheeks and your nose and chin, peppers them in quick succession across your neck to get you giggly and soft. When he emerges, you watch each other. Eddie’s gaze flicks about your face while you count down the checklist of your favourite features; dimples and quirked lips, wrinkles at the sides of his eyes and laugh lines.

“Again?” He asks, one hand moving from your thigh to grasp his cock between you. You nod, press your digits into Eddie’s shoulder as his tip opens you up. 

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes through the first slow thrust, voice clear as day now he’s so close. “You’re so good, baby.”

Pleasant shivers run through you at the praise. When the stretch makes your body pull taught, your fingers press at Eddie’s skin, letting him feel your need to slow. When the sound of his shaking breath, the sight of his eyes fluttering at the tightness of your cunt around him, has you excited and pliant again, your fingers playing at the ends of his hair tell him that he can start moving once more. Eddie pulls back each time before pressing deeper, humming you through each new tender stretch until you feel the wiry hair above his cock tease your clit. Your hips tilt, chasing the delicious rub, and you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, face dropping into your neck to groan. “How’s it feel?”

Your cunt flutters at the strain in his voice. This time, rather than sending warnings across your body at an unpleasant sting, your pussy bearing down aggravates a dull throb. Like pushing on a sore tooth, it’s painful and addictive all at once, clenching down again for the satisfying feeling of Eddie’s cock twitching inside you, the sound of him groaning against your skin.  

“Good, Eddie,” you say honestly, fingers stroking through his hair. “Will you- can you move?”

“Yeah- fuck,” he nods into your neck, laughing softly. “Just gimme onnnnne second. Jesus. ‘How do I make it good for you?’ She asks, with heaven between her legs.” 

Your body shakes as both of you giggle together, cut off by another whimpering moan from Eddie. “Aw, shit, don’t laugh or I’m really gonna embarrass myself.”

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with his chin at your collar. His hips pull back, relieving your pussy of the ache until he slides forward again, letting you feel full, the weight and warmth of him inside you. It’s different than his fingers, which map out the best spots and play with them. Eddie’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along all of them at once. 

His face is so close by yours, watching desperately for every sign of pleasure, any hint of discomfort. You open your mouth to reassure him, but all that escapes is a soft, pleased sound that makes his hips stutter.

“Feels good?” Eddie gasps, nodding like he wants to encourage you to agree.

“Yeah, s’good,”

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re gonna want this all the time now, yeah? Need your pretty cunt full of me?”

Pleasant tingles of shame dart up your spine, and one of Eddie’s hands slips between your bodies to rub at your clit again. 

“Yeah? Say it, sweet thing.” He groans, hips stuttering at a clench of your cunt around him. 

“Like being full of you, Eddie,” you whine, fingers tightening in his hair. “Want it all the time.”

“Jesus- Christ, you’re so good,” he breathes, his fingers bullying your sodden clit. The ache of his cock falls away in comparison to the onslaught of stimulation there, leaving only the satisfying resistance to your cunt clenching down, the sweet fullness, the friction against your sensitive walls. “You’re so good, letting me hear you. Your pretty voice- fuck. Just for me. Think you can cum?”

“Uh huh,”

“Yeah? Like this? Just like this?”

You nod desperately, hips twitching towards him. Chasing the rub of his fingers, the feeling of being stretched full when he presses deep, the throb of his cock inside. 

“You cumming, sweet thing?” He asks, as if he can’t see the flutter of your eyes, feel your body clasp around him. “Yeah? Holy-”

Your high is a gentle thing, compared to what you felt with Eddie’s fingers and tongue. A quick rise and fall focused at the top of your cunt that shifts quickly into the numbness of overstimulation. The lasting ache is too present for anything more, but it feels like a promise, a hint of how good it can be with Eddie, if you do this with him again. 

You feel boneless and tired while he finds his pleasure, staring down at your warm, satisfied face as he groans. You can feel him inside, the twitch of his cock as he groans, the sudden warmth behind rubber. 

His body half collapses on yours, sweat slick skin sticking together. You wrap yourself around him, foot stroking at his calf, hands scratching at the back of his scalp while he tries to catch his breath against your neck. You can feel the pound of his heart where your chests press together, know he must feel yours. When they slow in tandem, beating together, you find Eddie’s wide, soft eyes. 

“That-” his voice cracks, his throat clears. “Was that okay?” When you nod, offering a tired smile, he strokes some of your hair back. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” He says, waiting for you to nod again. 

You take a shaky breath as Eddie’s softening cock pulls from you, stealing all the soothing warmth inside and leaving you with a sensitive, fluttering pussy. You whimper softly at the tender feeling. “I know,” he breathes. “I know, sweet girl. Gimme one second.”

Shivers run up your spine when Eddie disappears briefly to deal with the condom, a little prickle of something unpleasant at your neck. You’re only starting to replay everything you just did and said that might be shameful, embarrassing, in your head when he returns. Eddie wipes warm damp cloth between your legs. He smooths away the uncomfortable, cooling stickiness. Predictably, he tosses the cloth over his shoulder to fall back into bed and pull you into his chest. There, with his arms tight around you, his adoring gaze set on you, any shame your mind could convince you to feel falls away. Why would you dwell on it, when you can let yourself feel all the warmth Eddie brings? 

You lie together for a few minutes, tracing Eddie’s tattoos. Over and over, you drag your pointer finger over the lines forming CORRODED COFFIN under his ribs, letters on Eddie’s skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur eventually, watching Eddie’s eyebrows pull together. You kiss his chest. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice breaking a little at your immediate nod. “Well, uh, thank you for trusting me, sweetheart.”

You lie together until the sweat on your bodies is cool and sticky. When the first shiver runs up your body, Eddie helps you stand from the bed like he expects you to be walking like a new-born deer. You manage into the bathroom by yourself, emerge washed and clad in cosy pyjamas, his soft hoodie. Eddie takes his turn, and returns to bed with steamed warm pink skin and dripping hair that sprinkles droplets on your face when he shakes it out like a dog.

You drift asleep with Eddie’s breath at your ear, his fingers stroking steady at your waist.

You wake the next morning to that same sunlight through blinds, the same dog barking in the distance. If it weren’t for the new ache between your legs, you might have thought you’d dreamt the entire perfect day, woken up to find it was Saturday again.

You turn yourself over to Eddie’s side, find his long bare back, pale and dusted with freckles. In a second, you’ll curl yourself around him, wrap an arm over his torso so he can wake up feeling something like the way you feel when he holds you. 

But now, your rapid pulse pounds in your ears. Even as he sleeps, your body won't allow you to say it, or even whisper it. Your throat closes up with the thought of too much, too soon. 

But you ache to do something, to let the feeling out somehow. Caught between your throbbing heart and the worries that have kept you quiet your whole life, you shuffle forward, reach out, and draw eight letters, one after the other, on the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder. 

I L O V E Y O U

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

Next Part

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!

I'm back to crack posting about my favourite shows and/or characters! =D

We Are ep 8 was gold. It had comedy, friendship, silliness and romance in the absolute perfect amounts.

Warning: long post 😊😅

This scene with Peem and Matt is peak comedy. I rewatched it so many times hehe

Phum: I'm gonna ignore every inch of space to stand right beside you. <3

Peem: *bombastic side eye*

Also Peem: *leans into him*

Khaofang woke up today and chose violence 😭👍🏼

Let's be honest though, that was not the sibling we'd expected to throw fists.

Meanwhile, Toey: that's my hia Fang 😊

Isn't that the million dollar question Mick 😭

If they got together already, how would the series run for 16 eps 😭

Toey with his hias ^ (also Matt edging him on like he's in a competition I'm dying 😭)

Toey with his P'Q:

However savage Q may be, he still shares the same braincell with his friends 😭👍🏼

IT WAS SO MEAN OF THEM TO MAKE MATT PAY WHEN THEY'VE HARDLY EVEN TAKEN A SIP! T-T

Peem before, when Phum even touched him: LET GO YOU ASSHOLE

Peem now: *fond, indulging smile* what do you want to do?

*shakes head with a sigh* boys in love ay

The motorcycle 'hold me tightly' trope being reused with a bicycle aka how to make them sit even closer

Peem saying so-so when Phum asks if he looks handsome: Peem, babe, you were the one who called him handsome first remember? 😭

What secretly. Phum was about as subtle as a football directly hitting your painting (yes I think I'm very funny).

With all due respect, please get the f out and let my boys be. Please and thank you. :)

^This is the answer to any question about Pun. 😭👍🏼

This scene is so, so beautiful. I am absolutely loving how they’re giving friendship/platonic love as much importance as romantic love because yes. I've been waiting for a bl like this forever (or at least since I got into bls hehe-). Bad Buddy and MSP came close, but We Are took the trophy. They love each other so much. Kill for each other? Nah, they'd go together and make that person's life living hell, and that would make my day.

I really really love that they're still so silly with each other in college, and are close to and comfortable enough with each other to be able to be childish and play in the middle of the day, to be each other's safe space.

This friendship is so precious and close to my heart. Even more than the romantic parts of the story, this is what makes me want to watch this series every week to see what new shenanigans they've got up to.

I love them. So much.

Beer is me, I am Beer.

Smiling at them so softly. Oh, he knows. And he ships. 👍🏼

This scene was also so beautiful.

They've finally started acknowledging that there's something between them.

I think more than Phum being unable to express himself, he's taking small steps to guage how Peem reacts. He wants them to be on the same page before he takes the next step.

Like with the kiss, he didn't hesitate to talk about it, to tell how much it means to him and then kiss Peem again. But he waited until Peem kissed him first, and till he was sure that Peem wanted to talk about it.

I really like this about him. He's not taking a step back per se, just making sure that when he takes a step forward, he's not leaving Peem one step behind.

Phum explains again and again how Peem is his safe space (his dialogues this time reminding us of Peem's little speech to his own friends and Fang talking about why he likes Tan with Phum), to make sure Peem knows.

It's already been told to us how alone he's been most of his life, so Peem and his ragtag group of friends is very new for him, but it's fun, and it not only brings him closer to Peem but also a friend group - a support system he didn't really have before. Sure, he has Fang, Beer and Mick, and Tan, but it's nothing like this silly little group that puts paint on each other then plays with water and gets almost black out drunk on a regular basis.

Also, did anyone else notice the two matching rainbow coloured jars behind Peem here? No? 👀

Simp. (affectionate)

I always love these call scenes where one of them somehow travels through his cell phone to land in the other's bed hehe

Peem is so done with Phum and his branded fashion outfits 😭😭

"You were born in Thailand."

Pond and the "I'm Thai" meme 😭

wait.

A bl lead realising he likes someone (his romantic interest) all on his lonesome??

Colour me surprised!

I actually didn't think I'd get to see this happen ever in a Thai bl, but good for him lol

So that's that for this week! If you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a bubble tea 🧋

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

Good friday y'all. Welcome back to a new fortnight of fics that I’ve read and loved recently. I took my first holiday of the year and IMMEDIATELY caught a cold that knocked me out for the week but at least it meant I got reading done. Save me, destiel, save me.

If you want to find more you can see my previous rec lists here!

29 March 2024

virga(e) by @shineforthee (art by @neversleepuntilfive) has gone straight to the top of the favourite fics ever pile, oh my god you guys, please read it immediately and admire the art that inspired it as part of @deancasreversebang. This fic is a thing of beauty from start to finish. In one version of the story of Dean and Cas, we find Castiel perpetually waiting in the desert, when a 26 year old Dean stumbles upon him drawn to the location mid-hunt. They must learn to trust each other, to figure out what's causing the push and pull that bonds them. The poetry of this fic, run through with this yearning devastating emotion on their journey together, coupled with the incredibly evocatively descriptions and research into the setting, come together to make the most gorgeous picture, the desert a place that seems desolate but is teeming with life. Much like the slowburn romance that flourishes between them. It also links back to post-canon in a way that is seeded so carefully and cleverly, and made my heart explode. It's funny, romantic, devastating, emotional, moving....I can't do justice to this fic with such a short snapshot, please read it for yourselves and come yell at me about it. It's so beautiful. shineforthee also has a great 9x06 fanfic gap one shot and an ongoing wip now too and I can't wait to read that! (Somehow need any more convincing? Check out @bloodydeanwinchester's Virga(e) liveblog).

It's all very complex by artichokeflower okay that was all very serious, so let's turn to a short and sweet smut fic that had me giggling gleefully throughout. 'After walking in on Dean's private time, Cas decides to do a little research and experimentation of his own and gets magically trapped in a book about sexual fantasies. And if that means Dean has to go in after him, well what are buddies for, right?' The thing that is just GOLDEN about this fic aside from the hot smut is the dry sense of humour, borderline French Mistake parody level porn and dialogue between Dean and especially Cas which just gets them so well...the cowboy scenes in particular. Glorious: “I’m sorry, Dean. That’s the end of the erotic violence. Are you hurt?” “Is there going to be any sex in your sexy fantasies?” Dean wheezed. “Not that the whole shoot out wasn’t fun. I just wasn’t expecting as much plot is all.” He coughed. That had probably sounded too eager.

Just Being and Just Having by Englandwouldfall I have recced before but is now complete!! This the post-canon fic series delves so incredibly beautifully into Dean and Cas’ history of miscommunication and gives them the chance to truly talk things out, finding themselves falling more deeply in love as they do so and understand their own mistakes but also what makes them work so well together when they’re no longer under Chuck’s thumb. Each chapter feels like therapy and a brain and heart massage! It sticks the landing so well and I just love these boys so much.

Something Happening Somewhen by allthismusic (@folkbloodbaths, art by @eggchef) aaaahhh time travel young Dean brought to the future to meet older Dean and Cas fic trope my beloved. A @deancaspinefest fic, Allthismusic is a fan of the trope too and this fic is a gorgeous tribute to it and the fics that came before. Cas saves 24yo Dean from an accident and brings him to the future when he witnesses what his life will be. Will Cas have to remove his memories to stop a paradox? Sweet and heartfelt, a joy to read.

Books, Pies, and Roommates by @seidenapfel (art by @kitshay) is a @deancaspinefest two-person love hexagon, with some excellently farcical misdirection. Cas moves in to the spare room of Dean's house, but he doesn't meet him, he meets Sam, as Dean is busy working. Cas is professor but helps his cousin out as a barista and his favourite customer is Deano. Dean's intrigued by the barista but he's not his online penpal and best friend Angel. Lines blur, connections are made, and hearts are gonna get broken...or are they?

Tag list under the cut, let me know if you'd like to be added! Please reblog <3

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

[featherlumina]

Genesis Headcanons: His Wing

Hooboy, I have so many thoughts and feelings about this boy's extra feathery limb. Here we go!

His wing is huge. I did measurements once but the thing is like, at least twice as long as he is tall, which makes it near 4 metres / 13 feet (welp, this is more of a fact than a headcanon, but there ya go.)

Instead of preen oil, he has powder down feathers (like cockatoos or pigeons), that he needs to consistently apply. Gen's a dusty boy.

He does a full feather moult once a year and is always impressed at how freaking huge his primary feathers are, despite how he might otherwise feel about his wing.

When his wing first bursts from his back, he is able to both hide and manifest it at will. However, each time he does, it becomes increasingly painful, and it becomes permanently part of him after Modeoheim. Clothing modifications become a must after that.

Once he's healed he regains control over manifesting it, but the longer he leaves it hidden, the more uncomfortable it becomes - like a deep, burning ache mixed with itchiness. My post-DoC headcanon is that he ends up leaving it out nearly all the time, as a way of openly accepting who he is and what he's done.

The little feathers at the top of his wing are extremely soft and velvety and I want to pet them oh my god-

Preening and maintaining his wing takes up a lot of time. His relationship with it might be fraught but he can't make the most of it with it in poor condition. It becomes something of a calming, grounding ritual as the years of degrading wear on. Also, his copies help. If he's feeling charitable or in a good mood, he helps them too sometimes.

If Genesis is in good health and his wing is properly maintained, his feathers are gorgeous. Mind you, they really start to show stress bars, break in odd places and disintegrate far more easily the worse the degradation gets.

He definitely uses it as a blanket or shield from the world when he wants privacy.

At the place where his wing merges into his shoulder, the feathers also sprout towards his spine, down his back and over his shoulder. There's a sort of radius or gradient of feathers that get smaller the further you get from the wing itself.

Early on, he refined his flying skills by studying monsters, especially griffins.

He's a bit miffed that his wing doesn't have any interesting patterns or colours like those of hawks or owls (he especially wishes it looked a bit flashier like Phoenix) but he's always had a fascination with ravens, so he can't really complain.

His favourite time of day to fly is night, as he's far more inconspicuous and blends in to the sky - and his night vision is excellent, given he's a SOLDIER.

At one stage, he fashions one of his feathers into a basic quill. He uses it specifically for writing LOVELESS notes.

I probably have more, but this post is already rather long. XD Hope you enjoyed!

[quotidian-oblivion]

Wouldst THou be okay with questions???

What’s your favourite thing to do at 2am (follow up question, fic recs??????)

Love

'Course! I has puts blanket permission it on le pinned post.

Read/write fics. Unquestionably. And eat junk food (like ferrero rochers *cough cough*). If i was alone in the house at 2 am, i would probably be singing out as loud as i could.

But *sigh* I end up doing schoolwork half the time. The other half I'm laying in my bed, and sleep-deprived me takes over and magically produces a fic and its outline leaving daytime-me to write it out and expand on it.

Fic recs... hmmm... Lemme go visit my bookmarks and link the links here.

Okay, so Repletion by sardnoic-sprite is rlly good. Actually lol, im providing analyzations + some minor info and ideas on the 2.0 version of the fic to sprite rn. In this one, Uncle Edward does exist and is a certified asshole and abuser. He tries to control Tim and keep him away from the Bats and threatens to hurt Tim real bad if the Bats try to contact him.

Zugzwang by sardonic sprite is rlly good too! Very hurty. Much angst. Ra's captures the batfam and challenges Tim to a game of chess. Each move is dangerous. A small mistake puts any of the Bats at risk. And Tim has to predict which batfam member will get hurt depending on which chess piece he moves.

And the whole series of Celebrity Batwaynes by sardonic-sprite is rlly good too! It had me cracking up so much. But ofc there's angst there too, but mostly crack and i adore this series with my life. It's about the Gotham vigilantes, some rogues, and the Waynes doing internet challenges like Buzzfeed quizzes and other stuff too.

My Mummy Has Tattoos by I_is_a_fangirl_yee is v v angsty. And yes, im being prejudiced rn but what im not being prejudiced abt is the fact that i screamed out loud in class while beta-ing this fic.

Now, The Dream Of Flight by A_Canceled_Stamp is an excellent fic I will never stop yakking about. The plot is literally just Tim falling off a building. But the writing? The emotions captured within the writing, the pure act of storytelling through actions described by text is something out-of-the-world.

I adore Instead Of All The Colors I Saw by SilverSkiesAtMidnight. It deals with Tim dealing with the aftermath of Titans Tower and his relationship with Jason and oof- the angsty dialogue is PEAK.

All of Vamillepudding's works. Well, at least the Batman ones, those are the only ones i've read. But they are all. Just. So. Good. The writing and oh- the ideas especially. Definitely some of the greatest Tim joins the batfam early fics to ever have existed.

Living Dead Boy by Terranphuem. *SCREAMS*. This fic. Let me tell you, this fic. It reached into my heart, grabbed it and teared it out then bandaged it and put it back in again. It's about Tim encountering Jason from when he just rose from the grave. And Jason's catatonic and everything and Tim helps him all by himself (with special help a little later) to make him "good enough" to return back to Bruce. SUCH A GOOD READ ISTG.

untitled titan's tower fic #89268439 by Ashynarr. It's, as the title says, a TT fic, but in this one, Jason finds Tim's old fanfiction account and tortures him by rereading some stuff from there to Tim XD Doesnt get the attention it deserves imo.

come back home please by PurpleHeartsOne. Gosh, the writing in this one... it is Up There with the Greats. I love how the emotions is captured so well here and also how smoothly the progression of chapters goes! The character development and- oh! The character reveal! Ahhhhh! Please do mind, it is still incomplete 8/10 chapters rn.

sipping the piping hot tea by BlueTee. In this one, Tim sips tea and destroys Jason instead of Titans Tower happening. Gosh, i loved the nonverbal reactions so much 😂

Conference Room 2B by motelyfam. It's part of a series, but it's so good, it deserves its own special appearance. Big bro Jason Todd! And theater kid Jason Todd! They're both in here!!

of crime lords and literature by adelfie. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! The writing! The fucking- *slams table* THE WRITING!! It's a TT AU where Tim asks help from Jason for English h.w. There's more obviously, but that's where the plot starts. It is. so good.

don't drop the baby (i'm the baby) by Ms_Trickster. I will never ever ever shut up about this. I read this twice and both times I teared up. Both times. This fic means a lot to me on a personal level. Basically, Tim accidentally time-travels and meets a baby version of himself.

Late Night encounters by paperxcrowns. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh! I adore this fic! Not only is the writing especially good, but the story line, the slow and smooth and excellent progression of events and character! Ahhhh! It's about Tim meeting Jason accidentally at a cafe and him somehow accidentally helping Tim with his homework and becoming friends.

just be there by TaraLaurel is so so good. I wrote a fic inspired by it (it's Shiver btw, the title of the inspired fic). Heck, I love all the batfam fics written by them (I haven't read the other fandom fics). This one is touch-starved tim drake and who doesn't love touch-starved tim drake! But more particularly, the writing. The fucking- writing. I'm like, the person who reads fanfics, but the ones with good fucking writing become my favorite cuz then i can kinda read it again and learn from it yk? It's like, looking up to people. And I look up to this author. How they describe emotions through nonverbal actions and verbal actions and subtle actions but also the inner monologue as well. Love it all.

Lastly, I've been saving this for the end. Rebel Without A Clause by DangerBeckett. This fic covers topics like classism and has Deep Stuff in it which is so so fun to read! I started commenting from the third chapter. Then by the fifth chapter, my two-sentence comments turned to two-page comments. As did with so many other commenters. I love the author and their writing. It is truly top tier. I love the character development going on too and the retrospection of topics and events through fiction and fandom. Truly excellent. Honestly. I can go on and on. And I have! It's about Tim meeting the batfam through galas and slowly getting adopted by them. It's in-progress still.

Those were too many fics probably lol. But I kept going through my bookmarks like "Oh! I forgot about that one! It was so fun". Happy reading! Thanks for the ask! ^^

[kotopeachii]

if you had to punt exactly one playable persona character into the sun, who would it be and why?

i have to pick just one? aww...

well, i classify my urge to punt someone as how much i hate and despise and fucking loathe them. but my reasoning behind hating a character is based on multiple factors;

do they have/learn good skills/abilities?

are they well written in the story?

are they well written in their social link?

writing aside, do i like them as a person?

now, the only games i have played out of the persona series are 4 & 5(NOT ROYAL). i read the p1 manga and am only watching playthroughs of the game, so i am not at all in any place to cast judgement on those guys, nor do one of those factors even apply to them... so that already narrows it down a whole bunch. i would never punt a single p1 character. they're all great (except maybe kei just for the 4th one) (but he's great. i love him. i think about him and get sad)

and i'm also eliminating the protagonists for obvious reasons, so we've already disqualified 11 characters. and with that out of the way, we can officially begin...

PERSONA'S PERILOUS PLAY OF PUNTING POTENTIAL!!!! (contains spoilers)

every character will be able to score out of 3 in each factor, and the one with the least amount of points wins the game as the Most Puntable. it's kind of like golf, which is funny, because i also want to punt golf players into the sun.

our first contestant is YOSUKE HANAMURAAAA

now, i was going to grab a fun little image of him to provide this post with visuals but i always forget that 90% of his search results on google are. uh. hm.

well, this is our situation. can i give him a pity point for that?

for number one, i can say...... 3/3. he was ALWAYS on my team during the whole game and i built him up well. like i was raising a son... sniffle... they grow up so fast...

i have to admit, it was a little annoying when he kept missing crits on the golden hand but is that his fault? no-hohohoooooo, it's merely a turn of fate... (and his fault. fuckyouyosukefuckyoufuckyougaaaah)

for number 2, i rate it 2. he's an ooooookay character in the main story, a lot of his harassment of the girls and kanji really tick me off and there's literally no good explanation as for why he does that other than just being an asshole, but. i guess being an asshole is just part of his personality.........?

EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THERE SHOULD BE GREATER CONSEQUENCES FOR HIS ACTIONS BECAUSE COMMUNICATING THE IDEA THAT BAD PEOPLE GET OFF SCOT-FREE IS TERRIBLE FOR A NUMBER OF REASONS. i don't give 2 shits about fanservice as a whole (in regards to harassing the girls, not the homophobia, that's just annoying) but can we stop making the grounds for it being sexual harassment

number 3 gets a 3! his social link is AMAZING and i CRIED and hes GAY and LOVES HIS FRIENDS!!!!!! if i wanted to do a character analysis on him then i would write a different post, but this is me trying to figure out who i would punt into the sun. so. moving on

number 4......... 1/3. for the previous points in number 2, he is an absolute dickhead and no amount of people-pleasing habits and homoerotic chemistry will make me like him. every person who is mean to him is right.

oh boy, just yosuke's section was reaaaaaaaaaally long... i'll try and shorten it for you, okay?

up next is chie satonaka, my personal favourite persona 4 girl if that sets the baseline for anything.

look at her :] she's so silly :]

for number one, i'm sadly going to have to rate her below 3... like. 1.5? is that allowed? i'll say it is.

she's the party member equivalent of a burner phone. unlike yosuke who's by my side forever and ever, chie is only good until teddie gets a persona and then she's so publicly humiliated that she accidentally misses every single hit. galactic punt YOURSELF MOTHERFUUUUUUUUUCK

number 2, 3/3. no explanation needed, literally just her shadow boss fight and the beauty pageant and her friendship with yukiko and her everything.

number 3... also 3/3. a lot of people give her flack for deciding she wants to be a cop, which i get because acab fuck yeah, but where adachi is a cop just to get attention and a gun, she actually intends to protect people. chie learns to help herself so she can help others... augh... AUGH CHIE I LOVE YOUUUUUU

ahem. number 4, 2/3. she's definitely a sweetheart and she seems fun to be around but i have to admit she's definitely a little annoying sometimes.

and now it's time for chie's bestest friend ever, yukiko amagi!!

she gets a pity point for being a lesbian... not just a lesbian but one having a crush on a straight girl. we've all been there hunny bun. let's watch romcoms and eat ice cream together while crying ok?

number 1..... 3/3 fuck yeah my main healer always coming in clutch!!! after a certain point she stops being the main fire user and the player is supposed to take that role but then she has KICKASS HEALING ABILITIES!! support characters are always my favourites (which might foreshadow my rating for haru.......)

1/3 for number 2. that might sound harsh, but! but but but!

they kind of sucked the life out of her after her dungeon. the only real defining personality traits she has are in her social link, which is unfortunate because so many people hate it!

i don't hate yukiko. never

3 gets a 3. it's a good story actually, and like i said it helps me see yukiko as. like. a person. and a lot of people say it's bad writing that her story ends with her deciding she wants to manage the inn, but let me put a lot of emphasis on 'deciding'. she chose that path for herself after being told she was allowed to do what she likes, and y'know what? i don't think that's bad!

nobody likes being forced to do something. i know i struggled a lot with doing homework because i always felt trapped in those deadlines and expectations, but i didn't just give up on school. improving my grades was my own choice, and i realized that i had potential to change myself despite my situation and succeed! that's what yukiko's social link is about. not giving in to other people's expectations, but thriving in the environment you're given...

i just said i wanted to shorten everything and now i'm ranting. always number 4 is a 3/3 she's literally just a girl and her laughing thing is cute idgaf.

KANJI TATSUMIIIIIIIII

subtracting a point for those shoes. get out.

number 1 is a 2/3. he was cool, but nobody ever compares to yosuke. i mainly used him for his physical skills rather than magic because yu took that role very easily, and when paired with teddie or yukiko he's just a boss. but he's not my favourite party member in the world

number 2, i'll be blunt, 1/3. WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY DO TO YOU MAN. we all saw how yosuke and everyone else and the whole damn story treated him. we all saw the line where he asked naoto to be femme so they could "make him a man". shut the fuck upppppp

number 3 is his saving grace. i know some people don't like that they never elaborated on the sexuality thing (or the... sexism..??) and i get that, having a character who's canonically mspec but only vaguely mentions it once and never again is really annoying and a half-assed attempt at representation. though i interpret his reconciliation with his sewing hobby, an aspect of him that everyone thinks is unmanly and should be shamed, as a metaphor for his own sexuality. similar to daisuke and soccer being a stand-in for his anxiety around romance and girls. in that case, it's a 3/3.

(plus there's the line "it's so cute it'll give you diabetes" and... kanji... *facepalm*)

number 4. he's cutie. a little weird, but cutie. 2/3

and now, a girl who needs no introduction.

god my feelings for her are as mixed as my auntie's desert lasagna. ("let's mix it up," she says...)

i don't have anything against the navigators. they're pretty good. i say 3/3.

however i hate rise's writing. -4/3. negative numbers are cheating? I DON'T CARE!!

her dungeon is a STRONG start to her character, like with everyone else. i love rise reconciling with the fact that there is no "real me" and everyone has different sides of themselves that they need to make it through life... and the fact that it ties in with teddie's conflict of feeling hollow, like an alien or an impostor only pretending to be alive........ oh my god! hiiiiii!!!!! love it!

and then rise's main bit in the story is crushing on the protagonist.......... sigh.

i really really REALLY hate that about her actually. i really hate forced romances. and before you go calling me a hypocrite for liking souyo and not yurise even though souyo has the exact same amount of flirty moments between them, that's because those two are really subtle with each other and have a really good initial friendship to back it up and also ties in with their actual personalities.......???? (we can debate forever and ever if yu has a personality but i say he does. he's consistently portrayed in other adaptations and spinoffs. he's got so much in common with yosuke)

but rise just kind of sees yu and goes "hey handsome. killing shadows all by yourself?" and it's like eeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhh.... 90% of the time she's on screen it's to flirt with yu and the other 10% is serious moments or when she's with anyone but yu. there's no moments where she gets to be casual and friendly with HIM, where we get to see DEPTH to their relationship, it's just purely flirting. and i hate that. so much. is this a one-night stand? no? then give me some actual fucking chemistry

and i feel like all of that smushing-dolls-together time takes away from a lot of genuine scenes with rise where she....... yk.... shows off her personality?

the hot springs and the trip to tatsumi port island are held dearly in my heart because rise DOES SHIT. she's silly and goofy and playful and maybe she says some stuff that's a little perverted but it's not to the yosuke degree. i like the idea that rise flirts with ALL of her friends, not just yu; it makes her feel like she's really part of the friend group, which is the investigation team's strongest suit.

rise and yukiko both have any personality ripped from them in favour of dumb bits that aren't even funny and that post of mine analyzing their dynamic during the school field trip is so everything guys they're so great as a duo i need to see more of them pleapelpslepalpelspes.......

...whoops. i ranted.

number 3 gets a 2/3. it's kind of just a rehash of what she learned in the main story, which is fine, but not ideal.

rise as a person is 3/3. absolute silliness all around. love her

KUMA KUMA KUMAAAAA

look at this fucking guy. ridiculous. i hate him. he's so annoying and dumb and he sucks

3/3 on party member he's totally goated

3/3 on main story he makes me feel the whole spectrum of emotions and then some

his social link is automated so technically thats a 3/3 too

3/3 person he might be an annoying little shit but i have 2 younger cousins. i understand yosuke. it's endearing to me

teddie is peak. i would never punt him.

now............to.

entirely honest, i'm on my second persona 4 playthrough to complete the social links i never finished and... naoto is one of those. so i will be unable to determine the rating for one of the factors. but luckily i'm not shit at math so it'll work out in the end

for 1...... honestly they're a good party member as well, but because i didn't get very far in their social link, i didn't unlock that ability where she's able to withstand a deadly blow meaning he would just be constantly dying. like. constantly.

but that's kind of the only thing i like about naoto. i have to rate their main storyline a 1/3. it's absolutely shit and the gender plottwist (ughh) is so badly done. i'm personally thinking up a rewrite for his character because i think they were onto something with the message about misogyny in the workplace but she's so SHITTILY executed that it's just muddied

naoto as a person is..... ok. 2/3. i don't find many things about her that exceptional or fun. i don't think about them often. if this were my rewrite of him it'd be waaaay deep down in the negatives because they are an ASSHOLE but i love them way more :3

and next is ryu.............uh........ actually, this is way too long. much too long than you probably anticipated... um... maybe i'll cut it short, make a part 2 later.

until next time........ on PERSONA'S PERILOUS PLAY OF PUNTING POTENTIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies~

Some of them are related to our OruVil comic from yesterday, some related to our headcanons, the rest are about various characters and ships :)

Anonymous asked:

I would love to thank you again for the Oruvil content!

It makes me happy seeing art of them even if it's not all romantic.

I REAALLLLLY adore seeing your art of them! 🌟💞

Thank you so much, Anon!! <3 I really appreciate the love they’re getting, they absolutely deserve it.

I would love to draw more stuff with them, both neutral and romantic…

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Ortho would also do this to Vil

I low-key see him having an argument with him and suddenly he would repay a video of Vil and him boning and Vil moaning just what he's denying or if like Vil's refusing to admit he was with Rook last night and Ortho just projects a video of Rook and Vil making out

Oh Ortho, you’re way too powerful to have any relationship with – it’s impossible to win an argument with this boy… it also sounds like an episode of Black Mirror lol

I feel like Vil would know better than to lie to Ortho though – not only Ortho always has A VIDEO BECAUSE HE STALKS PEOPLE 24/7 JESUS CHRIST- but Idia was also smart/dumb enough to give him the lie detector thing, so even if Ortho has nothing to show… he still has all the proof needed to see that his lover is lying lol

Anonymous asked:

Thinking about Silver on the receiving end of a condom-user for the first time getting surprisingly disappointed by it lol like he went into it with his partner's preferences on the full front of his mind and agreed with the safety concerns for it, but by the end, he kind of wanted to feel when their pleasure peaked and filled him.. like with his father 🥰

...... the only top I could think of that (properly) used condoms off the top of my head was ortho, so that made a whole different funny image to think about hehehe

(this is related to our condom hc post lol)

Not gonna lie, when I was reading the second part of your ask I thought “oh, Trey I guess?” and then you hit me with Ortho and I screamed. A boy who only uses condoms because he finds them sexy and has no other reason to wear them whatsoever because he is a robot + a boy who should use condoms but got so used to being taken without them that he feels underwhelmed and sexy when it’s used. What a combo indeed. It also reminded me about that one Ortho vignette in which he gave Silver his medical attention…

But also, poor Silver! Of course he wouldn’t like how it feels… thank you for your training, Lilia, way to ruin his life again 😔

Anonymous asked:

I remember the overblot ships asks, how about something else? Phantom Ortho and Overblot Vil?

Sorry for the late reply, Anon! And probably for a disappointing one.

I thought I would come up with something more interesting, but to be honest combining Overblotted boys with each other is a bit difficult to me; it’s much easier to imagine them visually, but coming up with possible interactions is more tricky, especially considering the nature of the whole overblot thing and Ortho’s phantom specifically – his whole being is way too attached to Idia (literally). Maybe I’m overthinking and overcomplicating it though, I tend to do that…

Maybe Phantom Ortho could trigger a relapse in all the previously overblotted boys. And Ortho did seem upset when Vil denied his invitation to join his and his beloved Idia’s new world…

Visually though, it would look pretty good; their designs are two of my absolute favourites :(

Anonymous asked:

Idia and Azul having a double date with Vil and Ortho. Basically disaster...

… Mostly because Azul just keeps talking and talking and talking and talking and it’s painfully obvious that he uses this double date just to make sure the great actor Vil Schoenheit considers him family, because technically he is family, since both him and Vil are dating the Shrouds, which means they have so much in common, which means-

Idia and Vil would be so utterly annoyed. At least Ortho is having fun!

Anonymous asked:

Does anyone else really not like the 'VilRook as Epel's parents' trope?

Some people probably don’t; we personally like it, despite usually hating on this type of trope. We are huge haters of the whole “aww they’re family” thing in general lol

But with Pomefiore it hits different somehow. Maybe it’s because the family thing is not the only thing that they have + their interactions and relationship between all three of them in general are complex and interesting, and the family trope doesn’t simplify any of it (Plus, this won’t stop us from liking Rook/Epel...) I won’t talk too much about it though, since this doesn’t exactly answer your question.

Anonymous asked:

There’s an animated series (it’s Scott Pilgrim but different idk the series) and one clip keeps popping up on my socials involving actor characters where one suggests to the other to “go over the lines in your trailer” and it cuts to the trailer shaking. I just wanted to mention it because it reminds me of Neige/Vil (especially with Vil trying to keep everything under wraps) every time it pops up and it’s your fault <3

Anooon I’m so glad whenever someone’s blaming us for a ship they think about lol <3 You’re very welcome.

I really love that Vil is 100% professional and keeps his personal life as private as possible, but he could also get horny and try to find a compromise, and sometimes a compromise is go to the trailer and “go over the lines” lol I approve of you associating this scene with him and Neige.

Anonymous asked:

New headcanon: Jamil knows how dangerous otters can be since he had to do research on what animals could be harmful to Kalim, so the first few times he heard Floyd call Kalim 'Sea Otter', his reaction was like that one meme of the confused lady doing math.

(this is related to some of the previous replies)

LOL poor Jamil. His life is full of unfortunate and unpleasant surprises, but this? This is simply confusing. The sigh of understanding an relief he would let out when he hears that Floyd’s reasoning is simply “’cause he’s cute”. I guess Jamil gave the merman too much credit in how he picks his nicknames…

Anonymous asked:

What do you think the relationship between Floyd and Chenya would be? I've seen everything from being besties who love to annoy Riddle together to enemies who're fighting over Riddle, so I'm curious about what you think!

You know, Anon, I think there is a reason why we don’t see these two interact: the Universe won’t let them, because we won’t survive this lol Both are so chaotic that you’d never guess how exactly it would go with them. Just like you said, they could annoy Riddle together and get along surprisingly well, but could also act like two boy hamsters in one cage if you know what I mean.

A lot of it depends on Floyd actually. I feel like Che’nya is pretty chill and playful all the time, and if he gets bored he just leaves. But Floyd gets annoyed and fussy… So if he likes the weird partially invisible flying dude, they would become besties. But if he doesn’t, he would be super irritated by him lol

Anonymous asked:

do you think floyd would ever do riddle or epel in his mer form or not because they’re too….small

Oh come on Anon, as if their smallness would stop him~ If he gets a chance and he’s in the mood, he would very gladly hunt down both Goldfishie and little Guppy~

[chaotic-guinea-pig]

I love your SOT fic! I was wondering if you have any fave style fic recs? 🙏

AWW THANK YOU! <3 I'm glad you're enjoying my fic! And boy, oh boy, do I have some Style fic recs! I'm not sure if you're looking for a specific flavour (i.e. angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, certain AUs etc) so I'll just recommend you something from multiple categories! I'm happy for you or anyone else to send asks for fic recs for specific flavours, though.

These are just some of the fics that came to mind. Someday, I will make a masterlist of my fic recs. I'm also going to assume you heard of the classics like hollycomb etc so most of these are ones I don't see get talked about as much in the fandom (at least to my knowledge - I don't interact with other style shippers that much ;-;)

Starting with ongoing fics to give my fellow WIP authors some love <3

Alter Ego by butterstotchcandy: Ongoing, but a REALLY GOOD TFBW + COLLEGE AU!! The basic premise is that everyone from South Park lost their memories during some mysterious amnesiac epidemic, and it's up to Kyle - who has recovered memories of his superhero identity and powers - to find the rest of the gang and the culprit. Everyone's characterisations are so well done here. It's the perfect mix between fluff and mystery and I'm so hooked and excited to see the plot unfold + Style's relationship grow! There's also bonus Creek here. :)

War Games by CiceroProFacto: Also ongoing, BUT THIS IS DELICIOUS ANGST. It's a modern world and Stick of Truth swap AU where both of the Kyle's have swapped worlds. Stan and Kyle are also bitter ex-best-friends so this is a must read if enjoy reading messy Style where they hate each other. :) I really love how the author characterises both the modern and Stick of Truth versions of our two boys.

Entries from the Past by ViviBaby69420: Ongoing! Wow, this one blew my mind when I came across it?! It's a really cool take on the Stick of Truth AU where King Kyle and Ranger Stan Marshwalker meet in the forest during the war. The worldbuilding is super detailed. Read this if you're more in the mood for a something reminiscent of classical novels. It's also the best execution of first person POV in all my time of reading fanfics (alongside Strider's Edge from Homestuck)

Mood Ring by HedgehogSquadGoals: Ongoing. Honestly, I'm not sure if the author is still in the fandom as the last update was in 2020, BUT STILL, I'm happy to have read this fic anyway, abandoned or not! <3 It's a very sweet and hilarious romcom of Stan being wildly in love with Kyle, who is so terribly oblivious his affections... and everyone else watches on in pain. The banter between everyone is on point and this is one of the few high school Style fics I adore.

Now for some complete ones:

Supportive Parenting by PervertCinnamonRoll: Complete and short fic in which Randy and Sheila try to get their sons together. :) Both of their characterisations are perfect - the most in-character Randy POV I have ever seen.

Sincerely, your super-best-friend Kyle. by cocoacremeandgays (part of a series called 'Three Sides') Oh god... this one, right here. It destroyed me for days. It is the best portrayal of mental health issues and ah, my heart hurts. :( BE VERY CAREFUL THOUGH if you're triggered by heavy topics. **Read ALL the tags and content warnings in full first, please; this one can be distressing.**

Sleeping Lessons by sleep2thefr33zing: One-shot of Stan struggling to sleep after Kyle gets accepted to Harvard! Very sweet and unique. I adore all of this author's works, actually - one of my inspirations from this fandom.

I Thought Soulmates Were Supposed to Be Easy by Anonymous: My favourite take on Style in the soulmates (name on wrist) trope! It shows a more complicated but 100% realistic side of the soulmates trope.

burning apart by clovariia: One-shot of high school Post-Covid timeline - a very sad one-shot of Stan's life during his teenage years, and Style is absolutely bittersweet :(

Connection Lost by VinnieDakota: Another Post-Covid one shot, but this time before the events of the specials! Kyle gets a drunk call from Stan after decades of not speaking to each other and it goes just as well as you would expect. Damn...

Hope this is a good start! Let me know if you would like other recs. :)

[squishy-mochi-is-bright-pink]

Ew The Freak’s Sister

summary: Y/N is a transfer student living with Eddie who has joined the cheerleading squad for her college application. This is where she met arguably her least favourite person, Jason Carver. The pair bicker constantly, but to everyone other than them there seems to be tension behind it.

warnings: slight cursing, none others

Word count: 2642

A/N:Written because there is a criminal lack of Jason x reader content and I am here to provide. Might be cross-posted to ao3. This is a part of a larger self-insert fic I'm working on with my friends but can be enjoyed separately. I might end up writing a second chapter if I feel like it, or there's literally any demand at all. also, I put Chrissy with Andy because I didn't want her to be single. In this AU Chrissy and Jason never dated so there isn't any bad blood.

“Sorry Nance, as much as I would literally love to get this homework done early, I've got practise after school” Y/N complained thinking about the two hours of jumping about in the autumn heat they had to look forward to.

“I’ll probably stick around in the library anyway and meet up with you after practice, I might actually be able to focus. It’s impossible to get work done with how chaotic my house is.” Nance explained as the two got closer to their last class of the day, psychology.

“You're a lifesaver Nance. Meet me by the front of the school when you’re done. I think Eddies picking me up so you can grab a lift with us.” This had become a semi-regular routine for the girls where whenever one had an after-school activity, the other would find something to keep them occupied until it was over. Then they would catch a lift to one of their houses (very often the trailer) and hang out for a while. After their plans had been settled the two took their seat and got ready for a long hour of note-taking.

After class Y/N bid goodbye to Nancy and walked down the halls towards the locker room to stash their bags and emotionally prepare for a long practice. 

“Hey Y/N,” Someone said the locker next to Y/N’s opened and things began to be placed inside.

“Afternoon Chrissy.” They replied changing into a pair of trainers, “You have any clue what we’re doing today? We’ve run more than enough drills, we’ve gotta be on to choreo soon.” Y/N guessed as best as she could while they finished tying her laces.

“I don’t know what we’re doing. But, I do know we have to share a space with the basketball guys today” Chrissy casually mentioned. Y/N paused for a minute to process the terrible news she had just been told as if it was nothing was wrong. However, according to Y/N, there was a lot wrong with having to share practice space. Practically speaking it seriously limited what could get done at practice. Arguably worse than reducing productivity was the fact that Jason would be spending the entire practice making Y/N regret showing up. 

“Chris,” Y/N paused for a second. “Please tell me that you’re joking. I’m begging you, tell me this is a joke.” the desperation in her voice was palpable.

“Nope,” Chrissy said popping the p and turning around to face a distraught, fully ready Y/N, “ I heard it from Andy at lunch. Why?” Before Y/N could rise out of the little pit of despair they had dug themself into long enough to respond Chrissy answered her own question. “Oh, Jason. You two are always fighting, right? I'm sure he’ll be too busy with his practice to even notice you’re there”

He was not, in fact, too busy to notice her. Nor was he too busy to bother them.

In fact, since Jason had heard about the change in practice location from his coach at lunch he had been looking forward to some entertainment. Y/N was oh so easy to piss off on a regular day. During practice when she has to run and jump about for an hour in a skirt even Chrissy complains about being uncomfortably short Y/N’s buttons were going to be easier to push than the keys on a keyboard. 

Meanwhile, in the boys' locker room a very similar topic was being explored. 

“You guys think we’re even gonna get anything done if we have to share a practice space?” Andy asked the other guys as they got changed.

“I honestly have no clue. I mean cheerleaders cant take up THAT much room. It's not like it's a real sport or anything.” Chance replied. Chance had a bad habit of blurting out the first thing that pops into his head. There was never any malice behind anything he said, he just always blurted out the wrong thing. Sometimes this landed him in sticky situations, sometimes it earned him an eye roll and more often than he would like to admit it landed him in lunch detentions. This time it got him a light smack to the back of his head.

“Chance shut up you airhead. You try jump about non-stop for an hour.” Andy, who had delivered the smack, countered. Everyone else got the sense that Andy was just repeating back a conversation Chrissy had very clearly had before. Generally when Andy came out with something that well reasoned it was copied verbatim from Chrissy.

“I don't know how much we’ll get done, but it should be a pretty entertaining practice,” Patrick added pulling his practice uniform on. 

“Huh?” Jason looked to his friend for clarification.

“Oh yeah!” Andy said from Jason's left, making him feel like he was the only one out of the four who didn't get the joke. Even Chance is nodding along. Whether or not he was in on the joke, only he knew. “Jason’s favourite person is gonna be there. She's on the cheer team.” Andy continues. He emphasised favourite person and laughed a little under his breath. 

“Oh yeah, I guess she will be.” Jason knew exactly who they were talking about. This line of teasing could only be about one person, Y/N. He and Y/N had been trading back and forth insults almost every day since she arrived in Hawkins. When she first got here they bumped into each other in the halls and while she apologised he laughed a little and the seemingly sweet shy girl in front of him, mainly because he had no clue who she was, before showing her to her first class. This sweet introduction was promptly ruined when Y/N happened to find Jason shouting at Eddie from the other end of the hall calling him a freak.

The seemingly shy girl turned to him and began berating him in the corridor in a thicker accent than he had heard her use all day. She called him every name she could think of and asked him what on earth got into his head that raised his ego high enough to call other freaks. Jason was shocked, embarrassed and a little confused why the newest cheerleader was so insistent on standing up for the freak. He later learned she was his roommate and host-sister. Y/N and Jason hadn't been able to be in the same space for more than thirty minutes without a fight breaking out since.

These little fights had become a serious source of teasing for Jason amongst his teammates. Most often just found the sight of her on her toes, finger in his face while she ranted quite funny, they found it even funnier after he found out that the best way to rile the girl up was to not respond and just look at them smugly. This led to Y/N getting more and more worked up until they inevitably stormed off, cheer-mandated ponytail bouncing with rage. 

In short, Jason was looking forward to someone to aggravate for an hour. Jason began to zone the others out as he got ready he heard snippets of the conversation around him. He zoned back in occasionally to comment but he was mostly in his own world, up until he heard some of the sophomore bench warmers turn the conversation towards how they were excited to see the cheerleaders and their skirts at practice. That was when he put an end to the conversation and ordered the boys to meet him on the court in two minutes. 

That was a line Jason wouldn't allow to be crossed, not on his team. Obviously, being captain Jason was first on the court and met Chrissy who was organising the girls for warm-ups. Y/N was indeed there with the others tightening her ponytail before the warm-up jog. When she looked up and accidentally made eye contact with Jason their eyes rolled so far into her skull that for a second he worried they might get stuck. Jason rolled his eyes at her just before she jogged off. Sometimes, scratch that, most of the time, he found her to be obnoxious, annoying and a bit of a bitch. He had to admit she looked prettier than he wanted to admit in her uniform.

Jason spent more of that practice than he wanted to admit distracted. However, this may just be the best he has performed at practice all year. His teammates had noticed the improvement in his playing and a few theories were spun. Some of the younger ones believed that Jason had a crush on one of the cheerleaders and was showing off to get her attention, guesses on who it was varied pretty heavily. One extremely creative freshman guessed it was Chrissy and he was trying to impress her into leaving Andy, he was of course wrong. Jason’s friends assumed it was something to do with his spiked blood pressure from being around Y/N. Patrick had a feeling that it wasn’t just annoyance pushing him to play this way. Maybe somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he was actually showing off. It had gotten to the point where Patrick genuinely had no clue if those two still hated each other or just had two years of tension that needs to be worked through. He had a sneaking suspicion that neither of them was ready for that realisation.

Y/N’s practice was relatively normal. The biggest point of difference was that anytime she made eye contact they would flip him off as subtly as possible to avoid getting in trouble with her coaches. This fueled Jason’s fire, causing him to play better. Him playing better meant him looking over to her more every time he scored to silently brag. Triggering them flipping him off, and continuing the cycle for the rest of the practice. 

Jason’s effort made her want to try harder so as to not be outdone by him of all people. This led to both of them lying on the floor in a puddle of exhaustion by the end of practice, having worked far harder than a random Tuesday required. Neither team was happy about the sudden burst of energy as they all had to try and keep up with it. Most of cheer was spent on drills and the boys spent most of the day on practice matches.

By the time Chrissy managed to drag Y/N back into the locker room to get changed she was panting like a dog and Chrissy had questions.

“So why were you trying so hard today?” Chrissy was very clearly trying to sound casual.

“No reason in particular. Guess I just had a lot of energy.” They replied under their breath with her face deep in their locker, trying to dismiss this line of questioning. As lovely as Chrissy is there is no way she is going to take “I spent the whole practice competing with a boy for no apparent reason other than our tension-filled year-long rivalry” as a valid explanation that needs no further probing. 

“Are you sure? Because if you were maybe trying to get the attention of one of the basketball guys, I could help. I mean I’m dating Andy and he's friends with all the seniors, so-” she paused to fix her shirt “you know I could probably set you up.” Exactly what Y/N expected. 

“Nope Chris. I swear I’m good.” they replied as they gathered stuff for a quick shower, “I’m not particularly into eejits or cocky assholes.” The last bit wasn’t fully true but Chrissy wasn't close enough to know that. In fact, Y/N’s attraction to cocky assholes was not only well known amongst her friends, but often a source of friendly mockery.

Nancy had finished up in the library about ten minutes before it closed and took the spare time to grab a can of New Coke for herself and a bottle of water for her friend, who had an awful habit of not bringing any water to long practices. Before walking slowly down to meet her outside the locker room.

As Nancy arrived at the locker room practice had just ended, meaning she had at least ten minutes probably fifteen or twenty to wait for Y/N to get dressed so Nancy sat down on the floor and pulled out her well-worn copy of Carrie by Stephen King. If she was going to have to wait, she might as well be as comfy as possible while doing it.

After about ten minutes the boys started to slowly trickle out of the locker room. Lucas was one of the first and stop to chat with Nancy for a bit. Just exchanging pleasantries. Nancy hadn’t seen him much since summer ended and hadn’t found the time to congratulate him for making the basketball team last month.

By the time she was nearly done with chapter seven of her book, she was rudely interrupted by a loud scoff. An annoying scoff that could only come from one cocky blonde basketball captain.

“If it isn’t Wheeler number 2,” he said and when she looked up she noticed his blonde hair was still damp from his shower and falling messily into his face. He looked more tired than anyone else did coming out of the locker room and even Lucas had looked a little worse for wear.

“If it isn’t a waste of sperm.” Nancy retorted looking back down at her book. “You look more disgusting than usual than normal Carver, was it a long day of tossing balls into laundry baskets then?” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. If Jason had an offended look on his smug face she didn't care enough to look up and appreciate it.

“What are you even doing here Wheeler? Last time I checked this isn’t the editing room.” For some reason, Jason seemed to believe that his spot on the basketball team made him more important than the work she puts into the school paper. Social hierarchy bullshit and all that.

“Piss off Jason. I can sit where I want when I want.” her eyes rolled behind the book.

“You know, if you really wanted to check out the guys’ that badly you could just talk to us. It would be an improvement from whatever you have going on with the pervert-”

“Fuck right off asshole. She’s here to get me not stroke your mates' fragile ego” came Y/N’s voice from the door to the girls changing room. They turned to their friend “sorry I took so long, you good Nance?” clearly she had been in the shower because her brown her was tied back with damp strands framing their face.

“Yeah all good, just an annoying noise in here,” she said packing up her bag and ignoring the pissy toddler standing next to her. “Eddie still picking us up?”

“He better be or I’m calling Steve, no way I’m walking home after that practice.”

“Harrington? Please don’t tell me you guys have dragged him down to your cult nonsense” Jason seemed genuinely horrified that his old role model Steve “the king” Harrington had fallen to the level of Eddie Munson and his freak crew.

“What about it? Jealous you don't get to kiss his ass anymore.” Nancy teased having witnessed the puppy dog-like expression that Jason would often follow Steve about with during his earlier years at Hawkins High. Unfortunately, Y/N hadn’t moved to Hawkins at the time and missed that phase, meaning less material for mockery.

“You two suck.” Jason said as if it was the best comeback of the year.

“And you swallow” Y/N responded as the two walked out to the car park.

[somekindofadeviant]

Darla and Spike, the rarest pair in the polycule. The wonderfully caustic blondes. I think this might be one of the rarest non-crack pairs in the fandom, honestly, though they lived together for at least 20 years. We might not see them interact much with each other on-screen but we know they absolutely DID away from our view. There's so much room to fill in there in that negative space, and with two characters who have such compelling forces of personality.

Here's some of my favourites from what exists.

Warning: Some of these fics are hosted on old archives, warnings may be absent or non-exhaustive. They may contain, amongst other things, noncon and torture and oodles of murders. If you want detailed or specific warnings for a fic, please DM me or ask in the notes.

Sinews of the Heart by icemink - After Angel refuses to turn Darla, she goes looking for another member of her family to save her from the illness that is killing her. Gorgeous. Beautiful characterisation. I would happily read 5 million words more of this if it existed. Rating: Explicit, Era: A:tS Season 2/BtVS Season 5 Fearful Symmetry by icemink - Oh hey more DOES exist. This is the continuation of Sinews of the Heart. Sadly it seems to be a perma-WiP at 15 chapters, but it's still very worth reading. While Sinews is pure Spike/Darla, this one's working towards a Spike/Darla/Angel pairing. Rating: Explicit, Era: A:tS Season 2, Incomplete Lessons on a Ledge by icemink - A fun little smutty romp. Spike's troublemaking leaves Darla and him stranded, however will they pass the time? Rating: Explicit, Era: 1880

Family Reunion by Glassdarkly - Darla was afraid that without a soul she wouldn't be able to love her son. What if she was wrong? Or right, depending on your perspective. I'm beginning to think I'm unable to do a rec list without at least one Glassdarkly fic. Family Reunion is brutal, dark, and enthralling. When this author warns you it's one of their darkfics, you better listen to them, they're a master of the craft, it's a horror tale that will stab you in the gut then twist the blade. The location setting in this tale is one of my absolute favourites, it's so perfectly detailed you feel present there with every sense, it's as much a character as any of the humans or demons. Rating: Explicit, Era: 2007 (mostly) Paternity Suit by Glassdarkly - Did I at least one? Make that a few. This one sees Darla tracking Spike down after The Gift/Heartthrob with a task in mind and hoo boy does it hit right in the soft places. Darla at her ruthlessly cunning bestworst, and Spike at his broken apart inside crumpled up bestworst. Rating: Mature, Era: AU Post-BtVS Season 5 Brief Encounter by Glassdarkly - At a time of change and a final parting of the ways, a long-kept family secret comes to light. A post-war piece that, among other things, answers why Spike was so suspicious of Angel in School Hard in contrast to their time on the submarine. Vividly evocative descriptions and atmosphere as always, fantastic historical detail too. Rating: Mature, Era: 1947

Revenge by DeborahMM - Darla grows tired of Angelus's attentions to Drusilla and decides to take her revenge. Exquisitely naughty and a bit bloody. Rating: Explicit, Era: 1880 or 1881

Giving Him The Moon by Peasant - Okay so this is actually a Fanged Four piece, and the primary ships in it are Angelus/Spike and probably Darla/Angelus, but damn if it doesn't have some of my absolute favourite Darla and fledgling Spike interactions, and it's a lovely take on Darla in particular. It's Spike being forced to learn Fyarl and a nice take on the frustrations of struggling to learn a new language. Rating: Explicit, Era: 1887

Triangles Are Falling by lillianmorgan - A delicious messed up encounter between punk Spike and Farrah-hair Darla that has some gorgeous character voices and a sneaky lil sting in the tail. Rating: Explicit, Era: 1977 Entertainment and Spectacle by lillianmorgan - A double drabble. What Darla sees in William, and what William sees in Darla. There's something so vividly intense about the dynamic Lillian crafts between these two. Rating: Teen+, Era: Victorian Cracking the Code by lillianmorgan - A lovely little moment on the way to the theatre. The language here is just a delight, derring-do indeed! Rating: Teen+, Era: Victorian Raging Against the Dying Light by lillianmorgan - Ah, poor dumb Spike all hopped up and out of his head on Slayer blood and on his most gloriously dumb shit vs Darla at one of her worst moments bound up in loss. Rating: Mature, Era: 1900

Cold Comfort by ash_carpenter - Spike recognises that he and Darla are alike in envy and the craving of attention/affection from the other two, and gives her a little comfort or something akin to it. Bittersweet and beautiful. Rating: Mature, Era: Victorian

Idle Threats Does Not A Greatgrandsire Make by FemailoftheSpecies - Just working something out. Conflict resolution. A lil bit of brutal fun. Rating: Explicit, Era: Victorian Creative Differences by FemailoftheSpecies - William and Darla don't see eye to eye. Darla and Angelus, but it's all about William. A funny lil ficlet, with poetry. Of a sort. Rating: Mature (after a fashion), Era: Victorian

Waiting Room by loraineee - A liminal encounter. Just a conversation in the space between. Brief yet intriguing. Rating: Teen+, Era: Post-B:tVS Season 7, Pre-A:tS Season 5

Decadent by Kate Bolin - Darla deserves worship. Spike is barely worthy. A gorgeous fragment of reverence. Ecstasy and agony. Rating: Mature, Era: Unclear

Static by Foxinator - Another between-seasons piece in the summer following Season 5 of BtVS. Darla's looking for Dru to get some insight into what's happening to her body, but she runs into a grieving Spike instead. Just a moment, a conversation, but it captures the characters at a time so strange and pivotal for each of them. Rating: G, Era: Post-BtVS Season 5, Pre-BtVS Season 6

The Queen by aliceinsunnydale - The Illustrated A to Z Guide of Sex Positions for Women explains The Queen as: Get your subject to kneel at your feet and don't give them permission to rise until they've earned either a knighthood or your royal approval to stay for the night. A delicious pwp in a tailor's shop. Rating: Explicit, Era: Victorian

Sitting Together, Simply Observing by aliceinsunnydale - 'More often than not, when in court, Darla and Spike could be found sitting together, simply observing.' A quiet moment of bonding, quite sweet. Rating: G, Era: Victorian Spike/Darla - Five Times Kissed by aliceinsunnydale - Just as the title says. A nice series of snapshots mapping the changing ways the two see each other. Rating: Mature, Era: Pre-Series (Victorian through 1970s)

Home Sweet Home by Rebcake - When Spike is introduced in School Hard, it's clear he's been in Sunnydale before. Rebcake is a master of drabbles, and this is no exception. Rating: Teen+, Era: 1950s

Lessons from the Lady of the House by joycometh - Darla gives William a sorely needed education in a certain subject. Both delightful and amusing. Poor clueless Will or, rather, poor Drusilla. Rating: Explicit, Era: 1880

A Brighter Shade of Darkness by brutti ma buoni - Spike can learn a lot from Darla. He doesn't always enjoy it. A rather illuminating lil ficlet. Rating: Teen+, Era: 1893

Bloody Unnatural by snickfic - A missing scene, a moment of connection. Warm and caring and quite lovely, in a bittersweet way. Rating: Teen+, Era: BtVS Season 6 A Right Sorry Couple of Vamps by snickfic - Alive and human again, all Darla wants is the brief illusion of freedom, and maybe a beer. Naturally, she's just thrilled when she finds Spike, too...Another one that's quite sweet and caring, in an odd way. Rating: Teen+, Era: AtS Season 2

I'm Not Supposed To Be Like This by spuffyduds - Another missing scene in the summer of Buffy's death and Darla's pregnancy. This one may not be so warm and caring, but dang if it doesn't have some brilliant and funny moments instead. Features the Buffybot, too. Rating: Maure, Era: Post-BtVS Season 5, Pre-BtVS Season 6

The Point by carlyinrome - A neat little drabble. What is the point in William? Rating: Mature, Era: Victorian

Waiting For Alice by thawrecka - He is not afraid. She is not bothered. It is not real. When Spike is dragged over and over to that place, she is there. They cling to each other. Beautiful and bleakly arresting. Rating: Teen+, Era: A:tS Season 5

Vantage Ground by _-SuN-_ - Vivid imagery and lush lyrical language. Darla in the aftermath of her loss, spiralling, as she travels with the two children of the family. Rating: Mature, Era: Victorian

Adult Education by Vampire_Penguin - Darla teaches both her boys a lesson. Darla/Spike with Angelus kinda in the mix or, at least, very much adjacent. Wantonly wicked in the best kind of way. Rating: Mature (pushing Explicit), Era: Victorian

Darla: The Series by dessert_first - Okay but what if Angel Investigations but it was Darla's show instead of Angels, post-NFA instead of an AU, key roles gender-flipped, and yer dead favourites got screen time. Sadly this is a WiP last updated in 2005, but it's worth a read for some awesome moments and a brilliant set-up. Mostly ensemble with a lil Sparla in there. Rating: Explicit (in ch5), Era: Post-A:tS Season 5

[shinescape]

Always

Idol Jun x Best Friend Fem Reader

tw/cw: mentions of food, playful banter and reader is mentioned as smaller than jun (once?) so if you're not comfy with that then yeah just putting it here :]

note: posting this for my best boy wen junhui and my apologies if there's errors around. also this blog lacks seventeen content (i am guilty of it as well) so do request them to fill up the space. enjoy the read!✨

The boys were gathered in their meeting room. Some were either eating, goofing around or just napping. They came back from recording a reality show and it was tiring yet they had so much fun. While they were minding their own business, you stepped inside the room after knocking a couple of times. You tried to not get any attention but one of them spotted you. 

"Oh my god!" Dokyeom screeched as you told him to quiet down but to no avail he screamed for the others. 

"Look who’s here, guys. Jun, your friend is here!" The group’s sunshine purposely emphasised the last part. It's not like you had a crush on him or anything, why does Dokyeom make it sound otherwise? Everyone greeted you and even Jihoon who had his eyes closed gave a lazy salute. You were never getting used to this even after meeting them quite a handful of times before. 

"Hey, it's been awhile. Gimme a hug." Jun had his eyes closed as he opened his arms wide but nothing came. He blinked his eyes open only to see that you were happily talking to Seungcheol about something. He wasn't jealous. Nope. It was definitely not jealousy until he saw Dokyeom back hugging you and swaying you from side to side. 

I thought he clearly said that I was her friend. Jun thought iritately as he stomped his way over and pulled you away. "Calm down, her arms aren't like yours." Seungcheol piped in until he noticed the expression he wore. That’s when he knew something was up.

Jun hastily let your arm go and asked you. "What brings you here?" You showed the bag on the table and gave a small smile. "I brought some food. Dig in guys." You announced to the whole lot and as expected cheers came after. It’s still funny to you how they became extra hyper every time food was mentioned. You made rather simple dishes, yet they acted as if they were some high class dishes.

"This is really good!"

"Look at Mingyu, he's not stopping."

"It's his favourite, let him."

"Hey, don't be greedy Jeonghan! These are made for us, not just you."

You turned to Junhui who had an annoyed look and tapped his shoulder. "Here. Go eat somewhere safe from these hungry men." You gave him a different bag, smaller but it felt heavier than it looked. He couldn't help but smile and went off to eat elsewhere. 

While they were busy eating, you busied yourself on your phone. A low grumble came from your stomach. "You can wait." You mumbled as you lightly patted your stomach. After quite some time, they helped you clean up the containers and placed them back in the bag. They didn't forget to thank you and asked where the dancer ran off too. The said male walked back in the room seconds later with his mouth still full. 

"Hey, how come you get a different one!" Soonyoung pouted as the others gave him strange looks.

"Guys, It's the same. At least some people get to eat." You stood with arms crossed over your chest. Only then they realised, you didn't eat anything but stuck your nose on your phone all the while when they happily filled their stomachs. 

"We're sorry." Joshua apologised as he nudged the others to do the same. 

"I'll eat later, no worries. Heard that all of you needed to go somewhere. I'll take my leave then." You bid goodbye and waved at the boys. 

"Wait!" Jun jogged over and passed back the empty case to you. "Thank you. It was delicious as always." He unconsciously nibbled on his lips, feeling nervous all over. You couldn't help but look away from his actions. Always making things awkward, you thought. "You're welcome. Well, see you when I see you. Bye." 

You stepped out of the room only to have someone following from behind. You knew who it was. You didn't want people to think that something was going on between you two but not that you cared much about it anyway. "Yes, Jun?" You turned and looked at him for a second before averting your eyes away when he looked up. 

One of the things you’re not good with is eye contact, it makes things awfully difficult for you. Not that Junhui was any better than you, it was fake bravery for him as well. The real him was a bit far from that, at least he's getting better. 

"Can we meet tonight?"

"Tonight? Don't you have schedule later?" 

You cocked a brow at him. Knowing that he sucked at being sneaky and can fail at times. Unlike you, who wouldn't mind sneaking out and successfully gets away with it. Meeting secretly could be dangerous but thrilling. 

"I'm free tonight. So can we?" You hated when he pleaded in that tone of his. Like it's pleasing to the ears but you feel like punching him at the same time because you know that saying no wasn't a choice anymore. 

You heaved a sigh and answered him straight away. "Fine. I'll bring food, knowing that you'll take the most time to get here anyway."  

"Thank you!" He exclaimed and wanted to give you a hug but you backed away almost immediately. You gave an apologetic smile to which he understood why. 

"See you tonight then." You left right after exchanging goodbyes.

It was almost 9 p.m as you boarded the bus from your place. Like you had planned, fifteen minutes later you arrived at the familiar part of town. Three boxes of pizzas should be enough, you shrugged at the thought. It was cold that night, the usual weather. You sped up your pace to avoid the strong wind hitting your face. 

The familiar building was in sight but you knew better than to use the front doors like everyone else. Your head hung low as you walked faster, passing a small crowd that was surely waiting for something to happen or rather someone to pass through those glass doors. 

"I saw him!"

"Good thing we stopped by right?"

A smirk made its way on your lips. You made sure no one was at the back and prayed so that the metal door wasn't locked. With one push, the door easily clicked open and you sighed in relief. Walking inside, you head up the stairs all the way to the second floor. It was tiring but it was the best option available for you.  

"Finally!" You sighed loudly and almost caught the people’s attention who passed through at the end of the hallway.You halted in front of the silver painted door with the words 'Studio C' written in bold letters. You gave a few knocks before entering the dimly lit room. A sprawled body on the dance floor greeted you. 

You walked nearer and sat by his legs. Coincidentally, both of you were wearing all black from top to bottom. You patted his thigh and no response came. "Urgh, such a heavy sleeper." You pattered a few more and chose to squeeze his thigh in the end. He jolted up and ruffled your hair out of habit. You didn't say a word but slightly pushed him. 

"Too close."

You placed the pizza boxes out and were about to get up. Well, you didn't want to be found dead in the morning because you choke on pizzas and decided to get drinks by the vending machine. Jun pulled you back down. "I'm getting the drinks." You frowned at him. "I brought them." He pointed out then started eating straight away, happily shoving a pizza slice in his mouth.

"Eat slowly." You then followed suit. Both of you ate in silence until someone's phone rang loudly. It went off and rang the second time.

"Yeah?" 

"I'll be back before then." 

"...okay bye."

You looked at him with raised eyebrows. "They knew I'm out." He sighed dejectedly. You kind of felt bad but apologising won't change what happened and it was his idea in the first place, you just went along with it since you were free. "At least they don't know your whereabouts, right?" You wiggled your eyebrows, trying to lighten up the mood.

He only chuckled and ate more. After cleaning up everything, you then leaned against each other and stared at your reflection through the mirrored wall. Jun casually pulls your head to rest on the curve of his neck. 

"How's life?"   

"Bearable." 

"Have anyone that-" 

"No." You glared at him through the mirror. 

He suddenly pinched your cheek, hard enough that you smacked his torso in response. "Also, stop working out so much. You're gonna turn into a rock one day." You rested your head on the side of his arm. "Just say you're impressed with my body." Jun added. "Please, not my type at all." You retorted back at his overly confident words to which he chuckled back. 

"Wanna take a photo together?" You quietly asked. This was out of the blue and knowing how such a request was a very rare chance. He agreed.

You and Jun smiled through the front camera and took a couple of shots. Until he snatched your phone away. "Let's take from the back camera." He suggested that you had no choice but to agree. "How about we hide our faces?" You were sure he was getting weird by the day. Like why would you even do that? Usually couples do it, but why would he, all of a sudden? 

You agreed nevertheless, knowing how persistent he could be. After numerous shots, the last one surprised you. It happened so quickly and before you could say anything, he got up and left the room. 

You sat there, dumbfounded than ever. "What was that?" Your fingers traced the warm sensation that still lingered on your right cheek. The thought of him placing a kiss on your cheek clouded the fact that he took your phone away. 

"No, it can't be. Jun is just being weird...like always." You stood up and dusted your jeans. It was probably best that you headed home seeing how late it was getting. But then you remembered that you owed him something.  

Jun came back and you briefly locked eyes with each other. "We should head home. It's getting late." He walked closer and passed back your phone. His eyes were looking elsewhere but you. "We should." He just loves to make farewells awkward or it's probably just his way to get over it afterwards.

"Come here you." 

You suddenly pulled him for a hug. The warmth his body emitted relaxed you instantly. You missed this. You know that nothing is normal when you befriend an idol. A widely known idol at that too. "I miss this." He said through your hair as he tightened the hug. You said nothing but held onto him. You both swayed your bodies for a while before releasing each other. 

"You know, you're the only person I don't mind being this small to me." Jun embraced you again before letting go right after. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be happy about that, Wen Junhui." You punched his arm before collecting the garbage bag that needed to be thrown away. 

Both of you went down the same way you came earlier. He had a confused look and you knew it was coming. "I'm going to use this door more frequently. Thanks for sharing your escape." He hugged you. "Jun, you do know that this is your company's building, right? I'm surprised you actually don't know about it." You rolled your eyes. 

"Thanks for tonight. You don't plan on telling anyone right?" You questioned nervously. He shook his head and zipped his lips with his thumb and forefinger. "Good, the last thing I want is rumours and you getting hate. Good night then, Jun. Get home safely." 

You poked his cheek. "Don't be sad, we'll meet when we can, alright?" 

"I never liked letting you go home by yourself. I'm sorry though." He frowned.

"Don't apologise, I understand. I'll be fine." You assured him. It felt like a forbidden love story. But you knew better to not have feelings for him. You knew he doesn’t feel that way towards you. It was best to keep those feelings hidden. Feelings you didn’t know were there before. 

Jun saw how you suddenly went quiet and took the chance to softly place a kiss at the corner of your lips. He pulled back and observed your features. Your eyes widened but not a single word escaped your lips.

"Good night." He lightly ruffled your hair as you slowly took the chance to step out of the door. Heat rushed straight to your face as you left the building, even the cold winds couldn’t make it go away.

Maybe, the feeling is mutual.

Jun took off his cap and messed up his hair. He felt a churned in him, unsure whether it's a good or bad thing but it sure was disturbing. 

The next day, you went to work and saw how your co-workers were giving you smirks and odd smiles. 

You ignored them and stood by the cashier, putting on your apron. "We didn't know you have a boyfriend, kid." A senior worker lightly nudged you by the elbow. "Huh, what are you talking about?" You had a totally confused look written over your face. 

"We saw your Instagram. Late night dates, huh? How sneaky." Another colleague snickered by the table in front of the counter.

Once they went away, you instantly opened the said app and saw the posted photo. It was the one where he kissed you. Good thing, our faces were covered though, you thought calmly. "Wait, I'm supposed to not be okay with this. He went through my stuff! That guy-" 

"Look at you getting worked up. I bet he's cute." You scoffed and put your phone away. He's going to get it when I see him, you clenched your fist tightly. 

"It was a cute post. Even the caption was cute."

You decided to not care about the conversation or how openly they were teasing you. But you had to admit, what he wrote was very cheesy indeed. Although it was only one word. But the meaning could be anything.

The photo came back to mind as the word passed right after. 

Always

[leviadraws]

helloo i must ask you. your thoughts on yuki (the dra one)

Oh boy, he's a tough one for me, so I'll try to splruge some thoughts. (Sorry I've been slow with asks lately, I promise I'm working on them, also I really need to rewatch DRA at some point but I am tired atm so there may be some inaccuracies).

(under the cut, DRA and some SDRA2 spoilers throughout).

So DRA Maeda is honestly my favourite protagonist in canon and another. Due to the whole reveal at the end and the divine luck factor there's quite a lot of layers to him that you don't think about at a surface level but then you scratch it a little and it's all like "hey this is kinda clever" whether it was intentional or not. But a lot of that would be talking about Utsuro, not Maeda so I'm not really gonna cover it much.

I will say I do love the system headcanons that have been covered by yourself, Nikei, and Dragon (I was going to link posts but jesus finding posts on tumblr is so goddmn hard). I haven't researched the topic well enough to comfortably talk about it myself, and I think you guys have done a pretty thorough job already.

I would like to talk about something that has always bothered me a little, and that's how Maeda/Utsuro are portrayed in the flashback. During the flashback and when Kinjo references their time at Hope's peak, he's referred to as being more Utsuro. But then that doesn't line up with the picture found of the class, where he's clearly appearing as Maeda. I'd like to think that they existed together before the real Yuuki's memories were implanted onto him.

(This is 99% me wanting to have both Maeda and Utsuro in pre-canon haha, but it is interesting). As I said before I've not done adequate research and I don't want to accidentally offend, happy to remove this section entirely if necessary.

So I like him a lot since he's kinda just a kid, yanno? He gets annoyed with the other classmates, he's downright mean sometimes (he's kinda brutal to Satsuki in her FTEs, iirc), and he's kinda bitter in places (him refusing to help Kinjo in chapter 3). It just makes him feel more, real? If that makes sense.

And like in trials, since none of the trials are that hard that we don't get totally baffled, him leading doesn't seem that off. The "smarter" kids of the class are either unhinged (Kinjo) holding information for no reason (Rei), underused by Linuj (Kakeru, Kanata, Kinji), or have a chapter 5 plot device in their head (Mikako). I'd probably want someone like Maeda to lead trials too.

I guess there's that kinda lingering thing that due to divine luck, any leap of logic would always be correct, but it didn't feel jarring since he'd always come across as kinda pragmatic. That and the leaps in logic aren't the level of crazy that SDRA2 chapter 2 and 3 had.

He's also flawed, he doesn't always say the right thing. He doesn't give out hope speeches (that I recall at least, I could be wrong on that one), he succumbs to the motive in chapter 4 just as much as the others do. He holds grudges over the course of the game, he's devastated over Kinjo's actions in chapter 5. Actually his relationship with all three survivors + Taira are really good.

I'm not hugely fond of some of the FTEs with him tho, I sometimes get the impression that they were written earlier? He feels more like the generic protagonist is some of them. Rei's feels like one of the worst offenders of this, like earlier in the game Maeda doesn't really put up with Kinjo's or Rei's bullshit in their attitude to others, but in her FTE he puts up with her shit to hear her story? Idk it felt weird to me.

I do however love his interactions with most of the rest of the cast in the story itself, mainly Kinjo because kshkjefnad they are disasters and I love them so much.

One little thing, I really would've liked to see him snap a little more in canon. There's obviously the part with Mikako, but like so many fucked up things happen and there were like at least three other opportunities off the top of my head?. Can you imagine the slight change in his expression, but his whole vibe just becomes so much darker and the reactions of the people around him?. Kinjo and Akane's reactions (both pre and post chapter 5) would've been so interesting.

Imma probs get on that rewatch now and realise that I missed a load of stuff and feel very silly. But hey, here's a tired mess of thoughts that yous are all free to rip apart and tell me I'm wrong haha.

Also give him a hoodie he a tired boi let him be comfy.