#ship: you drive me crazy (and I hate it)

[bi-buckrights]

Evan Buckley is a grown man and is capable of telling his bf if he doesn’t like being called Evan, hope this helps <333

[smoshingatut]

I'm kinda tired of dungeon meshi fans blatantly misinterpreting Kabru's goals, motivations, and character so they can ship him with Laios...like obviously it's awesome if you enjoy Laikabu but can you nooot twist Kabru's intentions for involving himself with the guy who constantly triggers his monster trauma and pisses him off so bad he gets brain damage so that he turns into "the guy who wants to suck Laios's dick" as his entire character? I've even seen people cut off Kabru's words to make it seem like he is admiring Laios because it would disrupt that narrative

[sweetenby]

That one Rudolph lesbian post has me all kinds of fucked up

Me foaming at the mouth desperate to explain that male work animals are more often than not castrated vs clamping my mouth shut bc then I'd be siding with a homophobe vs knowing it's meaningless bc the animators didn't care about any of that and just gave the reindeer antlers bc it looks good

[bby-deerling]

floral & fading (law x reader nsfw)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 1.7k masterlist

a secret santa present for my lovely anie <3 @strawheart-pirate

cw: afab!reader, piv, rough sex, scratching, choking, hate sex kinda, law is bad with feelings, reader is also kinda bad with feelings, angst, bittersweet, hurt no comfort, you let this guy hit once and he's totally obsessed w/ you, strawhat!reader, messy relationship dynamics

Law needs you desperately despite the fact he knows he cannot have you.

He hadn’t intended to get attached to you, not in the slightest.  Mind scattered, full of adrenaline, and buzzing with alcohol, he had meant for you to be nothing more than a late-night drunken distraction from the flood of emotions he felt after the events of Dressrosa.  Somewhere in the murky deep of the back of his mind, you had snuck in and sank your ragged claws into the sulci of his brain, to the point where he can barely close his eyes without picturing your mischievous smirk, or the contortions on your face as he fucked you, squeezing his tattooed hand around your throat.

For all intents and purposes, Law couldn’t stand you.  Brimming with intelligence and wit, you squandered your potential by wasting precious time goofing around with Luffy.  The strategic and combative skills you possess in battle make you an essential asset to your crew, but you were resistant to discussing any sort of long-term plan with him, insisting that wasn’t how Luffy rolled—it drove him crazy, and gave him the deep urge to break you until you finally relented and decided to use your mind properly like he wanted you to.

“Come on, Traffy!  Tell us who won!” you exclaim one day after a water gun fight, out of breath and nearly falling over as you slide along the wet deck in your flip flops, Luffy close behind you.

Law rolls his eyes and sighs, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading.  “How should I know?  I wasn’t paying attention to your nonsense.” he says in his usual dry monotone.

“Traffy, you were supposed to be watching us!” Luffy whines, putting his hands on his hips as he pouts.  Law ignores both of you, hoping you would eventually find another judge to determine the victor of your silly game; he thinks you’re finally discussing finding someone else to bother when you whisper something in Luffy’s ear that makes your Captain giggle maniacally.

“We decided to team up.” Luffy says proudly.  Law catches your grin in his peripherals, but continues to sit, eyes fixed on the pages in his lap, and ignores you, a mistake that would soon lead to his downfall. 

“So…You lose!” you shout with a grin.

With your words comes a stream of water straight to his face, followed by a second, less accurately aimed jet from Luffy that drenches his book and leaves Law fuming.  You keep that infuriating, mischievous grin plastered across your face, but he slightly smirks as he notices the way you swallow hard as he glares at you, a silent acknowledgment that you knew you were certainly in for it now.

“Shishishi—you’re in trouble with Traffy!  Not me though, I’m gettin’ away!” Luffy cackles, using his rubber arms to swing to the other side of the ship, leaving you to Law’s devices, and oh, did he have plans for you.  

Your idiocy had earned you a harsh quickie in the library, full of bites and dirty talk and nails dragging into his back.

“F-Fuck, Traffy—” you whimper as he bucks his hips harshly, filling you up so deeply his cock brushes against your cervix.

He yanks on your hair harshly and sinks his teeth into your neck, not caring in the slightest if he leaves marks on your precious, unblemished skin.  “Brat.  Say my name properly.” he hisses in your ear, wanting nothing more than to hear the word fall off your lips.

“Mmmf, ‘m sorry, Law…” you whine, tilting your head towards him to give him more access to your neck.  Law—hearing you drop the nickname and letting his real name drip off your tongue drives him wild and makes him drive his cock into you even harder as he bites and sucks along the column of your neck.  The familiarity and intimacy of it—even though it’s entirely manufactured, and he would never dream of displaying a similar vulnerability and dropping the -ya­ from your name—allows him to pretend you care more than you do.  It lets him pretend you care as much as he does.

“You better be.” he whispers, roughly clawing at your back with his jagged nails.  He wanted a string of apologies out of you before he was done—he’d already coaxed one out of you for spraying him in the face with the water gun, but burrowing your way under his skin and refusing to evacuate was the much more severe crime at hand, one with a sentence that ended up benefiting you both physically, but left him in a mental state even more frazzled and unfocused than before.

Irrationality began to cloud his judgement even more so as time went on, and he insists on you being in the group he brings to Wano with him.  Having you on the Polar Tang, even for a short time, is intoxicating to him—with the temptation of having you so close overpowering him, he finds himself uncharacteristically taking breaks from his work to use you for stress-relief.  He tells himself that’s all it is despite the fact he knows it’s a weak lie.  You’ve deciphered his feelings by this point; he can see it written on your face, though you cautiously say nothing.  Instead, you hang around after your unsavory activities, following him around the submarine and staying up late at his side, curiously and gently prying at aspects of himself that he thought he had locked away for good.  He’s furious at you for the way you’re able to unravel him, ripping him open emotionally just as he tears at your insides physically, and he takes his frustrations out on you accordingly.  However, you never seem to mind, and take all he gives you in strides; he’s mean, nasty, and rough with you in bed, but no matter how hard he tries to keep control, there’s a glint in your eyes that says you’re the one with the real power—you’re the one who can get the Surgeon of Death to snap and succumb to his base urges, and it enthralls you, much to his continued frustration.

He finds himself obsessing over you so deeply that he makes every excuse to keep you apart from your crewmates until the rest arrived with Sanji in tow.  He gives you a cover story to keep you close to him and continues his façade of this simply being sex to him, though you both know it’s more at this point.

“I like you, Law. I've gotten attached.” you said one night, words nearly drowned out by the chorus of cicadas hissing in the distance.

You were curled into his side, fingers tracing along his chest tattoos; it’s a rare moment where he lets you to show him affection like this, and your confession makes him deeply regret allowing you this luxury.  Despite the way your presence makes his heart contort and twist, despite all the hoops he’s jumped through to keep you close to him, and despite the fact that if he keeps his feelings bottled up for too much longer, he may never get the chance to vocalize them, he remains stubborn, letting a painful silence emanate into the night.

“It’s silly of me, I know, but I can’t help it.” you whisper, flinching at the way your voice cracks in the process. 

At times, Law saw you as obnoxious and silly, but you were also clever, compassionate, understanding, and strong, especially as you withstand all of his erratic mood swings as he sorts out his feelings for you—that’s why it cuts him to the bone when he causes you pain like this.

“Neither can I.” he whispers, unable to hold his sentiments back any longer.  He feels a touch lighter, but is not surprised when the melancholy resting between the two of you remains hanging in the air, coating you like a blanket.  After all, this could not and would not last forever, and once this alliance ends, the only glimpse he may ever get of you again might be on your wanted poster.

When all of the business in Wano ends, he has half the mind to take you for himself—to make you his and refuse to let go no matter how much Luffy begged him to release you, but he knows you would never leave your friends and go with him willingly.  Maybe that’s what infuriates him most—no matter how intimate and soft your half-lidded stare is while he fucks the daylights out of you, you would always love the sea, freedom, and your stupid antics with your crew more than him.  No amount of late-night conversations, full of hesitant divulgences and barriers broken, and no amount of physical contact would ever permanently tie you together, despite how much he wished that wasn’t the case.

Law knows this is the last time he’ll have you beneath him, close to him, and vulnerable for him, but he can’t bring himself to be gentle, overwhelmed by the violent storm in his chest.  Laid out and panting, your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you as his skilled fingers work magic on your clit.  Just as your thighs begin to twitch, he pulls his hand away, delighting in the way you whine and plead with him in frustration.  Inked fingers roughly squeeze the sides of your windpipe, making you squeak for him.

“You didn’t think I’d let you have it this easy, did you?” he taunts, using his other hand to grip your chin, smirking as he hovers over you before planting his lips onto yours.  Heated, deep, and full of longing on both sides, the kiss is enough to nearly pull his heart apart in two.  He takes great care to memorize the drag of your lips against his, the way the plush skin of your hips feels in his grasp, and the grip of your walls against him as his cock slides deep inside of you.

If this is the last time Law is going to have you, he is intent on drawing it out as long as he possibly can before he lets you go.  He just wishes things didn’t have to end this way.

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: The Na-Baron's birthday celebration on Giedi Prime at the beginning of the season makes you realise just how much work you'll have to put into becoming Empress—and even more into avoiding Harkonnen, who's showing you way too much attention. This is something that your almost-fiance definitely shouldn't like, and something that he doesn't notice. After all, there's little you can see in the darkness of Giedi Prime. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

"Smile. And powder yourself. You look pale, as if we were going there for a beheading and not a ball." Your mother says, adjusting the position of the grid of diamonds decorating your head. You flinch as you feel the cool metal of the gems brush against your cheek.

The damn thing was heavy, but nice. You remember perfectly how Lord Luwael's eyes lit up when he saw you wearing a similar ornament in your hair.

"In a way it is. First we will see the fight in the arena." You are sceptical of what comes next when your ship lands on Giedi Prime. You didn't like this place. It was black and white, barren, devoid of life and any moral principles. It was therefore an ideal place for gossip to arise - especially the spicy ones.

Besides, your... last encounter with Na-Baron was still fresh in your memory. Especially in dreams. On those terrible nights, you dreamed about how, in the darkness of your gardens and under the moonlight, you allowed him to do... more wicked things. Things that even husbands and wives shouldn't do behind their chambers' doors. And as much as you felt aroused after every dream like this, you were also disgusted with yourself and hated the Na-Baron even more for your little fantasies.

This helped immensely when it came to increasing motivation to win the emperor's cousin's heart, but no amount of flirting with him helped you forget the touch of a certain Harkonnen. You found it very interesting. And you hoped that after fighting in the arena, your body would adopt the same attitude towards him as your brain. He was dangerous and should have been avoided by you at all costs, and yet, in every fantasy about him, you enjoyed his burning touch more than the previous ones and wanted much more to happen between you two.

"Better for you. Half of these charpies in silks and sparkles will faint and never set foot in a ballroom. Take this opportunity and stick to the arm of the emperor's cousin." She advises you, licking her finger and twisting a lock of your hair so it rests unruly against your temple and falls onto your cheek.

"Lord Luwael wrote to me all summer. Besides, you saw for yourself that he visited our planet several times."

"It does not mean anything. He could only be bored, so he flew around the planets looking for entertainment. You have to charm him, Y/N. Drive him crazy with a... desire for you so great that he will do anything to have you—only then will he propose to you. It's still a miracle that he looked at you, since we come from a worse dynasty than him." He reminds you dryly, and you press your lips into a thin line. He doesn't wait for your answer. She leaves your room, clearly expecting you to follow her, when the ship announces that you are about to land.

You take a shaky breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your home-coloured dress hugged your curves perfectly, showing off the best of your figure, and your makeup highlighted your cheekbones and gave your eyes depth. All of this made you an irresistible sight. Lord Luwael would have to be blind not to appreciate your beauty. You will leave Giedi Prime with a ring on your finger or on the ship of the emperor's cousin. You did not see any other possibility, nor did you want to allow something other to happen.

You put on your soft, genuine smile and leave the room to join your mother on the exit ramp. Moments later, the ramp descends, revealing the black sun of Giedi Prime. You frown and squint as you adjust to the atmosphere on the planet. Your mother and you come down to earth. As soon as you can see beyond the patch of land in front of you, you shiver as you notice the Na-Baron waiting near your ship. You feel your anxiety and nervousness rising inside you, but you try your hardest to maintain your polite smile.

"Viscountess Y/L/N. Lady Y/L/N." He greets you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. You try to control your breathing and heartbeat, as panic is rising within you.

He looks... even more intimidating than on your home planet. That night, his mask had covered practically his entire face, but now you could see him in all his glory. And damn you, because those tempting lips he had weren't the only advantage of his appearance.

His face looked as if thousands of painters had worked on it, as if it had been lifted from ancient paintings depicting beautiful demons tempting people to damnation. And, oh, what a handsome devil he was. If you believed in an afterlife, you would wonder if he escaped from hell to lead people into temptation.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would recognise you. Does he know that it was you who went with him to the garden a few months ago? You try to read some reaction from his face, but he maintains an emotionless, composed demeanour as he looks at you and your mother.

"Na-Baron. It's a great honour to be here to celebrate your birthday. May fate always be in your favour." She greets him kindly. You shiver in relief as he thankfully doesn't pay much attention to you as his gaze comes back to your mother. 

"I hope it will. The maids will show you the way to the guest wing and your chambers. All celebrations will take place tomorrow. I hope that you will soon get used to the atmospheric conditions in Giedi Prime. Until then." He nods at the maids standing behind him. Bald women come up to you and hand you tiny baskets. "Our guests find it quite useful."

You look at the things in the basket; your attention is caught by sunglasses with black lenses and a strange coat. Your mother reaches for her coat and, with practiced skill, slips it gracefully over herself, along with her glasses, as you stare unsteadily at the strange fabric.

"Lady Y/L/N. May I?" Na-Baron asks. However, he doesn't wait for your answer.

He comes closer to you, takes your cloak from the basket, and hands it to your servants. He wraps the coat around you, adjusting it to your figure and making sure to cover all of your exposed skin.

"We Harkonnens have a special pigment in our skin to prevent the carcinogenic effects of sunlight and burns from long-term exposure. You must remember to wear this coat outside to avoid any diseases, Lady Y/L/N." He says, standing behind you and tying the fabric of your coat together. He uncovers your face for a moment and puts on your sunglasses. "Nor your beautiful eyes to be damaged." He whispers, so only you can hear him.

You shiver, staring at him blankly, glad that your sunglasses allow you the convenience of hiding your eyes from him and whatever you're focused on.

Was it possible that he recognised you? Was he giving you a hint that he knew you were his white swan? NO. Impossible. He probably flirted with every single woman who came to Giedi Prime. After all, he was going to find a wife this season. He had to show his softer side and hide Giedi Prime's brutality from the naive noblewomen so that some stupid and naive one would marry him.

"We thank you very much for your kindness, Na-Baron." Your mother speaks for you, obviously angry that you haven't spoken up for yourself. You just nod, shifting your gaze to the castle behind him, trying to escape his watchful, searching gaze for a moment.

"Your welcome." He responds with a nod to your mother.

He takes your hand in his, making you tense slightly as he leans down and presses a short kiss on it. A shiver runs through you as you feel the shape of his lips through your gloves, and your mind automatically recalls the memory of that night. You smile at him politely and quickly join your mother's side, leaving Na-Baron on the ramp as another ship arrives.

"Do not act like that. Don't show that you're afraid of them. And be careful. It's very common for people here to disappear after showing disrespect to the Na-Baron. You know how, right?" She whispers furiously to you as you are led inside the palace by the maids.

"I... I know. I'm sorry." You say this thoughtfully, turning discreetly over your shoulder to watch him greet the other noble families. This time, he doesn't kiss anyone's hand or help anyone put on their protective cloak. You shake your head. He probably saw that you weren't engaged to anyone yet, and that's why you got... special treatment from him.

"Just don't act like a scared mouse. I raised you better."

Right. Your mother raised you better. That's why you shouldn't have disappeared into the garden with this mysterious stranger from the very beginning. It would save you a headache now that wasn't caused by the oppressive atmosphere on Giedi Prime. You just wanted this season to end as soon as possible. Preferably your marriage.

You walk hand in hand with Lady Y/F/N towards the arena, gossiping about what happened since last night. The Giedi Prime sun is somehow more bearable today; you don't know if it's because of the items given by Na-Baron or because the weather was exceptionally not as cruel as the day you arrived, but you feel much better. (Or maybe it was because you didn't see Na-Baron Harkonnen today.)

"I tell you, Princess Irulan was furious. I heard she destroyed her room, and the maids worked all night to get it back in order. Do you think it's possible? That the Emperor wants to marry her off to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha?"

"Possible. It wouldn't be a stupid move. After all, Irulan cannot become emperor. She may be the firstborn, but she has no right to rule. It is logical that her father wants to marry her off to the second-best possible party, of course, when it comes to financial and political issues."

"Second best? Who's first?" You just smile at her question, watching the other noblewomen and their families walk towards the arena.

"Of course, as a woman in love, I must say that Lord Luwael."

"Has someone talked about me?"

A faint blush appears on your cheeks. You and Y/F/N turn around to see a smug Lord. You give him an equally mischievous smirk and curtsy, grabbing the arm he offered you.

"I do not think so. You must have misheard, Lord Luawel. Maybe it's the sun of Giedi Prime that bothers you so much that you lose your hearing?" You tease him as the three of you enter the arena.

"Lady Y/N, you don't have to worry about me so much, as sweet as that is. Fortunately, I don't need as much protection as you ladies do. However, I must admit that Giedi Prime is a terrible place. It does not allow you to see the natural beauty of certain things, taking away their colours."

"Maybe there's something… positive to be found here?" Y/F/N asks hesitantly as you pass a group of Harkonnens heading to the arena. The men say something in their harsh, unpleasant language that makes you shiver. You are only further insisting that there is nothing good to find on Giedi Prime.

"Positive? With all due respect, Lady Y/F/N, the Harkonnens have destroyed everything beautiful that could be left on this planet. Including their appearance and behavior." You giggle, careful not to let anyone else but the three of you hear you. But you wonder why your friend's attitude is so... sullen. She plays with her glove nervously as her eyes fall on the baron's older nephew, Rabban. "I don't know who is worse, him or his younger psychopathic brother."

"I think both of them are equal in their madness." You comment, agreeing with Lord Luwael.

Your eyes involuntarily land on Na-Baron, who exchanges a few words with one of his servants. You shiver when his eyes find yours—as if he has a special detector that makes him aware every time someone's eyes linger on him for too long.

He nods to you, looking at you carefully and examining your dress. His lips twitch into a smile when he sees you're wearing the coat he helped you adjust to your figure yesterday. You quickly turn your head towards Lord Luwael and give him one of your practiced, beautiful smiles.

"I… I'm sorry. I should join my family. Lord Luwael. Lady Y/N."

You frown, watching her walk away like a beaten puppy. You decide to question her about her strange behavior later in the evening. Now you had to focus on your lord.

"And you, lady? Are your wonderful mother and father with you?" Lord Luwael asks, placing his hand on top of yours after managing to penetrate the layers of material protecting your skin. He acts as if he wants to pull you much closer to him.

You feel the skin of your hand burn where it touches his, but unfortunately, not from... the excitement of this tiny, forbidden contact. Someone's eyes are watching you carefully, but you are too afraid to look towards Na-Baron to confirm that it is his irises that are staring hatefully at your joined hands.

"My mother had a headache, so she staid in her chamber. Unfortunately, my father couldn't show up at all. I hope you won't abandon me and leave me so lonely in this barbaric place, my lord?"

"I wouldn't dare do that. I am a gentleman. After all, someone has to catch you if you faint, my lady."

You smile sweetly at him, ignoring the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch for his words. You must maintain the innocent demeanour of a cute, awkward, and sweet noblewoman. Even though you hated it...

"Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate it, my lord." You say, wondering if you should actually pretend to faint and let him catch you. It would be very romantic if he carried you out of the arena in his arms and took you to the medic. Plus, you wouldn't have to watch... Na-Baron's entire performance.

You take your seat in the guest box. The arena shakes with the screams and applause of people who are truly eager for their Na-Baron to shed blood. Lord Luwael hands you the binoculars and gently removes your cloak as you both notice that you are protected from the sun's rays by a special black glass window.

You shiver as the Harkonnen's war drums sound and the announcer says something in their language, announcing Feyd-Rautha's fight.

A blush involuntarily blooms on your cheeks when you see that Na-Baron has decided to fight without a shirt or any armour protecting his chest. You hungrily stare at his muscular torso as he shows off his warrior body, which is decorated with paint—probably their war symbols, bringing good luck in battle.

"A real poseur and playboy. He only does it to attract attention."

"Probably. But you can't say, that it doesn't work, my lord." You say and nod towards the other ladies, who are also staring at the muscular figure of a warrior that Na-Baron proudly displays.

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm just a woman. But I prefer… slightly more hairy men." Lord Luwael chuckles at your comment, giving you a mischievous look. His attention briefly returns to Na-Baron, who lets out a belligerent cry after the murder of the first prisoner. You see him shiver slightly and his eyebrows furrow before his attention returns to you.

"So would I also gain your attention if I appeared… in a similar condition?"

"My lord, you would then have my complete undivided attention." You respond equally flirtatiously. The man sitting next to you hums in appreciation. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he stares at you, entranced.

"You, lady, have my undivided attention at all times and occupy my every thought." Unfortunately, you can't respond to his comment with something as sweet as Na-Baron's angry, painful scream that echoes from the arena.

Your attention returns to the fight. Na-Baron fights the last opponent, who, surprisingly, is not under the influence of drugs. You watch the fight with curiosity, even more so when you see blood pouring from Na-Baron's side.

"He had to distract himself. So far, he hasn't had any problems fighting him." You hear people commenting around you, but your eyes are focused only on Na-Baron.

You shiver as his gaze wanders towards your box, and it feels like he's looking right at you, making sure you're watching him. You put this idea out of your head. He probably didn't even know your name. He couldn't recognise you; he would definitely show it by now if he did.

You shiver as he lets out a menacing scream and charges at his opponent. His movements are quick, well-aimed and aimed as he delivers slashes, perfectly avoiding the blade of the prisoner he is fighting. You hold your breath as he knocks the blade out of your opponent's hands and stabs him in the stomach several times.

Na-Baron whispers something to the warrior and slowly lowers him to the ground as he draws his last breath. You can't take your eyes off his bloody form. His piercing gaze is still directed towards your lodge as he raises his blade. The crowd in the arena screams, people applaud, and you feel Lord Luwael next to you slowly begin to fall to the ground.

"Lord Luwael!" You scream, attracting the attention of the people around you. Several men help you, and they lift the unconscious lord. They carry him outside, and you want to follow them, but unfortunately for you, the second round of Na-Baron's fight begins, so you can't just leave. So you go back to your seat, thinking hard.

Lord Luwael apparently had another negative trait besides being a hopeless romantic—a firm believer in preserving a strictly traditional, patriarchal system. He fainted at the sight of blood and abhorred violence.

You sigh, wondering how the hell you're supposed to cope with a husband and an emperor who's afraid to draw someone's blood and pick up a sword.

Your gaze falls back on the fighting Na-Baron. If only he was less... Harkonnen... You shake your head at the idea that crossed your mind. No. You are going to become the empress. Nothing could change that plan, and certainly not one night of oblivion and pleasure with a brutal, psychopathic future Baron of a dead planet.

But that doesn't stop you from admiring the way Na-Baron's muscular chest ripples with each rapid breath or the way his muscles twitch with his movements. And unfortunately, you can't stop your thoughts from wandering and imagining him moving into a much more... intimate situation.

"Did she watch the fight?" Feyd asks his servant as the medic stitches up his wound.

He finished the fight a few minutes ago. People were probably starting to gather in the ballroom, but he had to clean up and put things in order before he appeared in public. Before he shows himself to you.

"At first, she was a little distracted by this... lord. But he fainted halfway through Na-Baron's fight, so afterwards her attention was entirely on you, my lord."

"He fainted? Weak spawn. Did she enjoy my performance?" Feyd asks, slightly irritated by the way the medic's fingers are shaking with fear as he tends to the wound.

"She was definitely impressed. I think Na-Baron's decision not to wear the breastplate helped, as did the fact that the guards made sure not to let Lord Luwael into the arena again."

"Very good, you did a great job. Keep it up. I'm going to need you to distract that pet of hers for a while. You can do it, right?"

"Of course, my lord Na-Baron."

"Women like flowers. Those outside Giedi Prime." The medic comments as he finishes stitching up his wound. Feyd looks at him for a moment, then nods at his servant.

"This is a wonderful idea. Order a vase of the rarest flower species to be placed in her chambers. I'll give you a note tonight, after the ball."

Before Feyd finishes his sentence, he already holds the medic's arm and plunges a dagger into his stomach. The man groans in shock as he stares in sheer terror at the Na-Baron.

"Because of you, I'll be late for my own ball." He growls and puts on a black shirt, ignoring the blood on his fingers as he walks out of the infirmary.

He walks through the halls of the palace, hurrying to his chambers to change. His thoughts involuntarily go to you, remembering your intoxicating scent and the softness of your skin under his lips. Damn him if he lets some lesser man have the taste of what is his.

You belonged to him from the moment he killed for you the emperor's dog that tried to bite you. If necessary, he will kill another one to make sure that no man will dare to adore you again.

But Feyd couldn't do it; as much as he dreamed of it, he preferred to gain your... feelings rather than force you to marry him. And maybe he enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, but only as long as his claims for you weren't at risk. And this little... lord was hanging around way too close to you.

He didn't know at all what you saw in this weak man. He wasn't handsome, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't defend you. Certainly not before Feyd. You needed someone strong—someone who wasn't afraid of your true nature or unleashing it. You weren't yourself hanging out with that lord. He watched the two of you closely, and countless times he saw you tighten your hand around a glass, a fan, or in a fist when that lord made a remark that irritated you, but instead of snapping back like you did with Feyd, you smiled falsely sweetly and nodded obediently.

His beautiful, brave swan, instead of hissing at the fools around her, only tried harder to attract them. And this annoyed Feyd immensely. You could be so much more than just a pretty face. You had a character that Feyd admired in you, but instead of showing it with pride, you hid it deep inside, afraid of society's opinion.

You would make a wonderful Baroness. With you by his side, he wouldn't worry about anyone seeing him as weak man. And he himself found worthy company in you during that wonderful night on your planet. If only you hadn't run away from him, hadn't believed the rumours so much, and weren't afraid of him, but rather of what he might do to you, you and Feyd would make a wonderful match.

As he approaches his chamber, he hears the ladies giggling. He decides to hide in a side corridor and wait until the gossiping women leave. But he perks up his ear excitedly when he hears what they're talking about—and that you're among them too.

"Na-Baron put on quite a show. Have you seen these muscles?" Feyd can barely keep from giggling. But he can't help but wonder how you assessed his... muscles.

He did it especially for you—to tease you a little with what you could have had that night if you hadn't run away from him like a scared little mouse. How many nights did he spend dreaming about catching you before that frail lord got you...

"Oh please. He's a cruel brute. Psychopath. Did you see how he treated that poor man? Moreover, most of his opponents were under the influence of drugs."

His hairless eyebrows furrow. He feels his rage rising; he wants to come out of his hiding place and show this royal bitch a real fight, but he knows that his uncle will kill him for laying a hand on the emperor's daughter.

"I'm not surprised at him. After all, he's the next Baron, they won't risk his life for some lame arena show."

"What do you think about it, Lady Y/N?"

Feyd licks his lips, eagerly waiting for your opinion on his fight. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you will say. Will you praise his fighting skills? Appearance? Ruthlessness and brutality? Or maybe you loathe it as much as Princess Irulan does?

He waited nervously, his heart beating fast as he waited impatiently for even one word from you.

"I… think we had a rather… interesting fight anyway. Regardless of the circumstances."

His excitement fades when you limit yourself to such a simple, diplomatic, and natural answer. He doesn't want to hear something like that from you. He wants your opinion; he wants to hear the burning heat in your voice as you express your true thoughts and emotions with great conviction, even if they go against what he wants. He wants your passion—the same passion he has experienced the few times he has had the opportunity to be around you.

"But it's not honorable! How dare they treat prisoners like this?" Irulan growls furiously at you.

"And in your country, how are they treated, my princess? They either end up in a noose or have their heads cut off. Here, maybe being under the influence of drugs isn't the best thing, but at least they have a dignified death for warriors—those who don't fight Na-Baron are fighting in the arena for their freedom and are not under the influence of any substance. I don't think this is the case in many countries. Besides, it boosts morale and entertains the people. Two birds with one stone."

Feyd feels a smirk involuntarily form on his lips. He knew that his little, wise swan would think just like he did. However, I regret that you do not praise his skills as a warrior but only focus on the usefulness of such fights. Next time, he will try harder for you. Maybe he will even give you the heart of the strongest warrior?

"Of course you'll flatter him, Lady Y/N. After all, he clearly has his eyes on you. I saw the way he looked at you the day you arrived—it was clearly love at first sight."

"Oh yes! And I saw him looking across the arena towards your box! He got so distracted by looking at you that one of the prisoners stabbed him in the side! It's so sweet, just like a real romance book."

Feyd freezes for a moment. Was it that obvious? He couldn't, right? Maybe he was accidentally looking for you in the crowd of other people, but... he couldn't be that easy to read, right?

"I would never dream of courting Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, not even in your wildest fantasies my ladies. So maybe let's focus on the real, more likely matches that could happen this season."

At your words, Feyd clenches his hands into fists. How dare you so openly reject his possible advances? It was the best match in the empire. In fact, he could be a future emperor, and he'd damn well do it for you if that was all it took to get his hand in marriage. Seething with rage, his hand involuntarily went to the blade attached to his side. He had to find someone; he had to take it out on someone; but then again, he needed to hear more. Why does the thought that he adores you bother you so much? Did he do something to you? Has he offended you in any way? Was it your reluctance and disgust at the idea of having him as a suitor just because he was a Harkonnen?

"You mean your questionable engagement to my cousin?" Princess Irulan mocks you, fueling Feyd's anger both with the way she speaks to you and with your engagement to that weak piece of flesh wasting air in your presence.

"Why questionable, my princess? I think this would be the perfect match. Lady Whistledown herself devoted several of her paragraphs to it."

Feyd rolls his eyes at you. Have you also read the nonsense of some old lady who was bored enough to comment on events in the world of noble families? And here he thought that his swan was too smart for that...

"My cousin may be stupid and be fooled by a few pretty words and eyes, but he doesn't make rash decisions. He knows what kind of marriage will be best for him. He won't marry someone from a lesser family just because some anonymous writer is having fun spreading rumors."

"Do you have someone special for Lord Luwael in your mind, maybe?"

"I think we all know very well who I mean."

Feyd smiles, and for the first time, he is not hating the princess's existence. If she actually took this weak lord from you, the fight for your hand and heart would be much more enjoyable for him; after all, he wouldn't have to worry that you would marry some other man while he was trying his best to get closer to you. It would definitely make courting you easier if Irulan tried to charm your weak little lord...

"Hmm… possible. But tell us, princess, how's your Bene Gesserit training going? Has the Reverend Mother assigned you any task yet?"

"I believe this is none of your business."

Ah, so you knew. You knew that the Bene Gesserit were planning to marry him to Irulan—something he certainly wouldn't allow. But if he lets you believe it, would you fight for him? Would you try to convince him to stop chasing Irulan? You could. After all, you would see it as a threat to your position as empress. Feyd is curious what lengths you would go to if such a situation occurred—how far would you go in trying to seduce him and leave Irulan?

Feyd is no longer eavesdropping on the rest of your conversation. You pass him, and he quickly sneaks back to his chambers, changing his clothes. His mind races as he wonders what he should do now. And he decides to give you one last chance before he puts his plan into action.

The balls at Gieid Prime are… different from those you usually witness. The ballroom is lit by a thousand candles, the room is kept in semi-darkness, and you are more than convinced that some orgy is taking place somewhere in the corners and recesses of this huge hall.

You are just finishing your dance with Lord Luwael when Feyd-Rautha enters the hall. Na-Baron is greeted with loud applause and cheers. He smiles at the crowd of people, showing a row of night-black teeth. You shiver at the sight. You just don't know if it's out of fear or desire. You realise that every time you think he can't make himself a more terrible monster, he comes in like the bane of your existence and proves you dead wrong.

Oh how you wanted to finally leave Giedi Prime.

"Unfortunately, I think we should wish him a happy birthday. Everyone does it."

You nod at his words, seeing the rest of the guests actually gather around Feyd-Rautha. You place your hand in the crook of his arm and let him guide you towards Na-Baron. The alcohol you managed to drink without your companion's attention and the man's mere presence will give you a bit of courage. Although you know, if a real fight broke out between these two men, the candidate for your husband would probably faint from fear when he saw the first blood and lose it. What a pity he had such an annoying condition...

"Na-Baron. Happy birthday." Your companion says as you reach Feyda-Rautha. His blue, ocean-glacial eyes stare at the two of you, ignoring you for a moment to send an appraising glance towards the man whose arm you're holding. You see a strange tension building in the room between these two...

"Thank you very much, lord…"

"Luwael." He finishes for him, angry that he is not properly recognised and acknowledged by the Na-Baron.

"Ah yes. It slipped out of my mind. Wouldn't you be offended if I took the liberty of asking your lovely partner to dance? It's my birthday, after all." Na-Baron's attention is completely on you, and you wish he and Lord Luwael had spent more time on this little alpha male fight. You open your mouth, ready with an excuse to deny him the dance, but the man next to you speaks first.

"Of course. Enjoy yourself." Na-Baron gives him a smug smirk that only widens when Lord Luwael flinches at Feyd's black teeth.

You suppress a grimace and give your hand to the Harkonnen. He takes your hand with incredible gentleness and leads you to the centre of the room, right onto the dance floor. Before the dancing starts, he has the courage to take off your gloves. You give him a confused look, your heart beating faster, as he leans in to press a kiss on your hand. You shiver as the skin of your hand registers the now familiar shape of his plump lips.

He places his hand on your waist and connects your hand with his, leading you to the rhythm of a rather calm song.

"Such fire… and yet your anger does not reach Lord Luwael. What did he do to deserve this special treatment, my lady? Maybe you're worried about him after he fainted in the arena like some weak, little boy?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You say, turning your gaze away from him, wanting to spend the rest of the dance in silence. You keep your eyes peeled for Lord Luwael, but unfortunately, you can't find him anywhere. As if he had evaporated.

"Is it so, little swan?" A cold chill runs through you as you use the nickname for you that he used that night. You feel your world freeze for a moment. He continues to lead you in the rhythm of the dance, allowing himself to pull you a little closer to inhale the scent of your perfume, but you don't notice, terrified of what he told you he knew.

"I... no." You blurt out, trying to control your emotions, and put on the mask of indifference on your face again.

"Well... I guess you know. Your heart beats so fast, almost as fast as that night when I tasted your wonderful nectar straight from the source. You know there's nothing as sweet as your juices?"

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" You growl furiously, unconsciously digging your nails into his palm.

"So she can still hiss! And she even has claws. I remember how sweetly you scratched my neck with them before you ran away like a scared little bird."

"Shut up." You growl, feeling like you're starting to lose control of this whole conversation. And not just conversation. You noticed that you had somehow found yourself outside the ballroom. The music from there reaches you in the form of a gentle hum as it presses you against the wall of one of the empty corridors. You swallow, realising what a sh*t situation you are in.

"Or what? Watch your tone, little swan. It's my birthday. You should be nicer to me. I didn't actually hear you wish me a happy birthday; your little puppet did it for you."

"Unlike some, he is a real gentleman, not a puppet or monster."

"Ah, but we know very well that you don't want a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't do to you the things I did to you, and we both know how deliciously you moaned under my touch and how you shuddered as my tongue tasted you. Do you think your weak lord can do to you the things I showed you in the darkness of your house planet? That he can satisfy your desire? That he can free you from your shackles of social conventions as I can free you? You need someone bigger than the lesser man. I've already told you that. You won't settle for a man like that."

"You do not know anything about me. One night—not even the whole night—spent under my skirts won't suddenly make you know my true desires. You have changed, Feyd-Rautha. You're not the same boy from the Lankiveil I used to know." He hums thoughtfully at your worlds, watching you carefully and curiously.

"Hmm… maybe you're right, little swan. I think I need to do more to convince you that I am right."

You sigh as his lips press against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. You punch his chest, trying to push him away, but he presses hard against you, pinning you against the wall. You feel the toned muscles of his body as he grinds against you, demanding full access to your mouth.

You bite his lip until it bleeds, but that only turns him on more. His strong, large hand cups your breast, squeezing it tightly. You let out a surprised moan, and his tongue somehow finds a way to slip into your open mouth.

The material of your dress tears under his strength; his hands pull your breasts out of your dress and caress them as if his life depended on it. His fingers graze over your sensitive nipples, and you can only moan into his mouth as he sends a warmth straight to your core that reminds you desperately of how his tongue was working so well to release you that you had denied yourself.

You come to the shameful conclusion that maybe you could have let him bring you to orgasm before you ran away from him.

His lips finally leave yours, but you don't enjoy this freedom for long. They move to your neck, licking and nibbling madly, as if someone were about to tear him away from you. And the worst thing about it all is that you don't really know if that's what you want.

You scream as his black teeth dig into your skin, leaving a mark in the crook of your neck. You hear the click of enamel against metal as he accidentally catches your necklace, but he doesn't move away; he just sinks his teeth into it, as if trying to split a diamond in half.

He pulls away from you; you see the blood on his plump lips—your blood—and it only makes you more aroused. His hand slips under your skirts and reaches to your core, caressing you teasingly. You gasp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"Such a good little whore when she gets fingers and a few hickeys on her neck. Does your lord know what a shrew you are until someone kisses the venom from your lips? Does he know what fire burns inside you? Does he know what a wonderful feast you have between your legs for a thirsty man? Does he know you as well as I do? Has he seen how beautiful you look in the whirlwind of passion?"

His every question is punctuated by the rhythm of the thrusting of his fingers. You moan softly, holding back tears of pleasure, as he slowly brings you to the edge. You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him with all your strength as he plays with your clit and sucks hickeys on your breasts.

"So sweet… so soft… so wet. And it's for me. Just for me. For Harkonnen. Say it. Tell me who fucks that little pussy so well with his fingers. Tell me who's driving you crazy. Tell me whose attention you really want, you wanton little bitch, and maybe I'll let you cum, despite the way you treated me… and on my own birthday…"

"I... you... you..." You gasp in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nah. Not like that. My name, beautiful little swan. Scream my name. Exactly the way you should have done that night in the garden." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You moan as his fingers go deeper inside you, and his other hand caresses your breast, playing with your nipple.

"I... ah... Feyd.... Feyd, please..." You cry for him as your hips grind against his hand, seeking the sweet release that only he can give you.

"Yes…just like that…cum for me. Give me my birthday present and shout my name." You can only nod dumbly as you feel him take you over the edge. You bite down hard on his neck, refraining from making any noise as you tighten around his fingers, finally coming.

You gasp, feeling the metallic taste of his black blood on your tongue.

You move away from him as if burned. Your heart beats insanely fast as you stare at him, trying to process what happened. He pulls his finger out of you with a squelch, and you blush furiously. He puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them. He moans at the taste of you, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Perfect birthday gift. Although I believe I can get more." Just as he moves to kneel between your legs, you hear the voices of the guards patrolling the halls. You push him away from you in panic and run forward, trying to improve your appearance a little.

This time, he's not after you. He didn't make any attempt to chase you. He allows you to traverse the halls of Giedi Prime without the feeling of his breath on your back, but you are very aware that you have miserably lost today's battle against him. He did exactly what he wanted with you and would have gone much further (and unfortunately, you would have let him) if you hadn't sobered up with the possibility of getting caught.

You told yourself that this was what you needed to get over him. After all, forbidden fruit always tasted the best, and once you experienced the Na-Baron's... undoubted skills, you could move on and marry a man who was the absolute opposite of him, a man with whom you didn't have to worry so much about the future, as with Feyd-Rautha.

Yes, this was what you needed—one last affair before the wedding—to make sure you're doing it right. Because what would await you as Na-Baron's wife, or, God forbid, concubine? Nothing good. The Harkonnens were the harbinger of misfortune, suffering, pain, aggression, and, apparently, good sex.

Whatever you and Na-Baron were doing, it had to end now.

"I'm supposed to be his wife?! This barbarian?! You can't do this to me, father! Feyd-Rautha will destroy the empire and plunge us into the blood of war and senseless brutality. He's a psychopath; can't you see it? Surely there must be another way to keep the throne!" Irulan's screams echo throughout the guest wing. Your eyes widen in surprise, the unpleasant pang in your chest only adding to your daze.

So the rumours were true. The emperor wants to give Irulan to Feyd. You don't like this idea very much. If the Harkonnens married into the Corrino family, your right to the throne of Emperor, or rather the right of Lord Luwael, would be in jeopardy. No one stood a chance against them.

You snap out of your daze when you see the door handle to Irulan's chambers begin to move. You quickly run to your room and close the door quietly behind you as you wonder what the hell just happened in these few hours.

You return to your chambers blushing and with a rapidly beating heart. You can still feel Na-Baron's lips vividly on your neck, and you're sure you'll have to cover it tomorrow so no one will see the hickeys that bastard gave you.

How stupid you were again! How could you let him get so close to you again and corner you when you were alone in his territory?! And what's worse, he knew that it was you who went with him to the garden that night; he knew and he wanted more from you...

You shudder as wicked thoughts enter your mind, all because of Na-Baron's tantalisingly absurd whispers. How could you enjoy his attack on you? How could you moan so loudly in a deserted corridor? How could you shout his name and attract the attention of the guards?

You were damn lucky that no one caught you, that Lord Luwael disappeared somewhere, and that he didn't see you giving yourself to this... this monster like a mindless whore. It had to be the alcohol. They must have put something in your drink; you couldn't just... enjoy the touch of a Harkonnen, a Harkonnen who just a few hours ago had slaughtered you in the arena before your eyes and was enjoying it like a little child enjoys a candy... A Harkonnen whose body was ethereal beautifully...

You are snapped out of your thoughts when your mother enters your room in a state of… extreme daze.

"Mother? Have something happened?" You ask her, worried that your little (another) tryst with the Na-Baron might have turned out to be not such a secret at all.

"Lord Luwael just asked for my consent to propose to you. You did very well, Y/N. You will be an empress."

You swallow nervously and smile, nodding your head. Your mother hugs you, and you feel millions of thoughts racing through your head. You will become empress, but only if Irulan and Feyd-Rautha don't marry, and there was only one way to make sure that would happen.

You had to play a game with the devil himself and seduce and deceive him until the day it would be too late for his marriage to Irulan and you and Lord Luwael would take the emperor's throne. But how the hell were you supposed to do that without getting burned?

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran

[iprefertheterminsane]

Ive mentioned this on twitter but i feel the absolute need to reiterate how absolutely FUCKED the circumstances of Hob's immortality actually is.

It isnt a REWARD or PUNISHMENT for something he'd done. At no point was Hob ACTIVELY consulted about it. He was DRUNK, freshly returned from fighting a war for a king that let half his village (and likely his entire family) die from the Black Plague. Hob's immortality was the result of a wager between two entities of higher power than most Gods, he was the pawn of a GAME. Sure, Death had ulterior motives (wanting to give Dream a friend and for him to get out of the house.) But as far as Dream was aware this entire debacle was to see how long this measly peasant of a human could stand being alive before it drives him insane. In fact, the Centennial dates were so he could periodically check and WATCH.

Effectively, it was like if two people picked up some random grasshopper and dropped him into a mug of wine, watching to see how long he would stay alive with no lifeline. Humans arent DESIGNED to live that long.

AND YET. HOB DID.

For the most BATSHIT reason of....wanting to experience the mundanity and unfiltered joy of simple living. Do you understand how INSANE that is? And Dreamling as a concept is...my friend had explained it as; imagine defying God's will SO HARD HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU. Imagine being SO UNHINGED in hope and optimism of Earthly Experiences an entity powerful than most Gods that HATE humans FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU.

Like, FUCK. This ship drives me crazy. There is simply nobody out there like Robert "Hob" Gadling and there will be no other.

[iconsumethesoulsofthedamned]

I am so sorry but why are there two sides of the fandom that hate eachother why can’t the silence of the lambs Clarice x Hannibal and the nbc hannigram shippers be friends.

Why is everyone attacking everyone. My friends, there are two alternate universes, both ships are cannon, and even if they weren’t Hannibal Lecter has two hands.

Must you call the nbc hannigram fans stupid and uncultured for liking their ship? Must you be rude to the sotl Clarice x Hannibal fans for liking their ship? It in no way invalidates your ship. Both ships are cannon. Stop fighting please it’s a stupid argument. Yall are driving me crazy.

[davinashifts333]

DATING KIM HONGJOONG OF ATEEZ PART 1:

⚫️summary; once again, first part to Hongjoong’s section in the new ATEEZ fics or requests I am taking, so REQUEST!!! & STREAM GOLDEN HOUR!! LET’s GOOOOO!! see all my fellow ATINY at the Arlington concert!!🩷🩷🩷

⚠️warnings; fluff, Joongie being Joongie, Ateez idiocies, craziness, some swearing, implied smut, etc. IF YOU’RE NOT 18, GTFO! disrespectfully.

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-dating Kim HongJoong is also becoming a mother of 6 & a sister wife to Seonghwa.

-dating HongJoong means late nights where you walk around Han River with snacks from the 24hr convenience stores & chat about your days but also, early mornings for the days off he has & has planned a full day of activities for you two.

-dating HJ is like being his best kept secret but also his most prized possession, he is so protective & loving to you, it’s weird for the boys.

-dating Joong is being at his dorm as much as possible because once he had you? he never wanted to let go, he swore he hated skin-ship but with you? nahhh. that was out the door.

-dating Joongie is like having a boyfriend, husband, best friend & confidant all in one because he is so respectful & sweet but also so serious & dominating that it sometimes scares you how quickly his personality can switch. (but it’s also hot asf because Captain?)

-dating HongJoong is being BumJoong’s bestie & little sister, when HongJoong is off on tour? you best believe BumJoong, momma Kim & anyone from HongJoong’s family is calling you & visiting you to make sure you’re doing well.

-some nicknames he would call you based on his initial vibe/aura & personality seen on camera; Baby, Babydoll, Love, Sweetheart, Darling, Little one (because he finally found someone smaller than him), Beautiful, Dove, etc.

-dating HJ is moving fast but it feeling right? like a month in & he’s flying you out to Seoul to visit him or coming to visit you (if his schedule permits because baby boy is BUSY).

-being HongJoong’s girlfriend means also being his true right hand, the person he wants to learn about everyday, the girl of his dreams, the one who he asks for advice all the time but ultimately protects with his life & the best part of all, the person who sees his true self & softest parts of him & his personality.

-dating Joongie is meeting his family early on & going on vacations with them but also becoming so close with his mom he just sits & pouts that you’re stealing her from him & Eomma Kim is stealing you from him too.

-you & Eomma Kim cooking for the fam & her loving you so much because you remind her of a young version of herself (be that you’re foreign or not, she find attributes about you so calming & similar to hers).

-dating HongJoong is a blessing & curse st the same time, let’s be real this man is a Scorpio, he is DEMANDING. but, also the sweetest & most sensitive & emotionally open person you know, he truly understands the beauty of the world, of people & is driven by passion so, if you are similar to him? he would be most grateful because he would feel so understood & like he could truly open up to you.

-dating HJ means truly learning the deepest parts of his soul, his drive, his motivation, his passion & the reasons behind all of them. him showing you & teaching you the way he sees the world through his eyes & loving that you understand & see it the same way.

-soft launching on your IG & the ATEEZ acc because you’re also a musician/artist/producer/singer (whatever) & you do a challenge with him & some other members.

-being his girlfriend would mean also being the group’s baby sister, each member loving you for a different reason & you often hang out with them but, yes your boyfriend/future husband gets jealous so he steals you away & keeps you to himself. (we all know this man is jealous, be for fucking real).

-“Ya! Jagi, why are you with Wooyoung & not me? Am I not enough for you? Wooyoungie, go away, she’s mine.” & so he does, San is already waiting for Woo in the living room of HongJoong’s dorm so you both can have alone time in his room.

-“Don’t worry, we don’t love Y/n at allll. It’s not like she’s OUR friend too.” Woo yells back as he walks off to steal Joong’s snacks he has “hidden”.

-you laughing the whole way Joong drags you to his room.

-Joong being a complete baby & softie with you despite the persona/front he puts on for the cameras.

-ATINY loving that they get to see this side through small snippets & stories on your IG/YouTube/Twitter/TikTok, etc.

-posting pics together & also him posting pics he’s taken of you on his camera/polaroid.

-being his muse, he literally has made 10’s of playlists & is working on songs that include things about you that only the members, him & you truly understand & know the meaning behind.

-being his all time biggest supporter, he DID meet you wearing a MATZ t-shirt so, it got him flustered & thinking about how you could he so calm while seeing him in person.

-yes you were ATINY before you dated, like dude, come on. who couldn’t love these 8 idiots.

-playfully arguing with Mingi over how you can’t choose between their rap styles because they’re so different & both so good.

-movie nights with the members where you & Joong end up sneaking off to be alone & they start hounding you both about not being able to keep it in your pants.

-he’s a passionate lover, so hidden marks, body to body, eye contact, multiple positions, etc. are for SURE his go to.

-he loves to be in control but whenever you do try to take control? it only riles him up more & has you walking funny for a few days after.

-your personality & aura is made up of leadership energy, dominance, bluntness, strength, etc. but, the real you is a soft & loving person, he is definitely the type to like someone like him, who looks so dark & scary on the outside but is truly just so intelligent, caring & creative as he is.

-dating Kim Hong Joong is like breathing underwater in a dream & no longer fearing anything, it’s like giving into your deepest & darkest desires & fighting no matter how hard the fight is. It’s like being worshipped & worshipping at the same time, it’s a push & pull of who loves who more but ultimately it’s so equal because you BOTH are so equal, it’s insane. It’s air in lungs that haven’t been able to take a full, clean & crisp breath in the longest time. It’s feeling so high & happy like you’re on cloud 9 24/7, 365.4 days a year & more.

-being his person, his lover, his best friend & future wife? is a dream written in the stars but only time could bring you closer. it’s poetry, passion & pain all in one but truly, a love so deep & understanding you could never consider it vain.

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A/N: I AM SO EXCITED TO GET BACK INTO WRITING, I HAVE MISSED SPILLING MY THOUGHTS & IDEAS ONTO THIS BLOG. FELLOW TX ATINY, SEE YOU SOON, even if you don’t know who I really am (my real name is NOT Davina & you’ll never know the real me BUT) LET’s STREAM GOLDEN HOUR!! MI GENTE LATINA!! LET’s GOOOO!! also, i am so close to 200 followers & I’m so excited & curious why I have so many followers but!! let’s get to 200!! (i’m at 199 rn)

[callsign-fox]

Wingman - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Been sitting in the drafts/Lightly edited

Written with @fanficgirl429 <3

18+ Only // Enjoy xo

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When you sign on to be a pilot for the Navy as a female, you know you’ll have to put up with egotistical men on a daily basis, however, it’s not until you have to work with them that you realize how incredibly self centered they actually are. 

The canopy to my jet raised and I quickly climbed down the ladder. My wingman, Rooster, landed right behind me and he was currently maneuvering his jet into the assigned spot beside mine. Rooster was not my first choice for a wingman, he wasn’t my second or third either. It was near impossible to work with him and I was sure our superiors were getting ready to ship one of us off to Guam just to separate us from one another. Fortunately for them, we were two of the best the Navy had to offer and so for that reason alone, we were stuck together. 

I glanced up from my current conversation with my flight crew just as Rooster walked by, his head down and stupid aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes. I rolled my eyes as he continued by not saying a word. Of course he wouldn't say anything, he was the reason we failed the exercise.

“That was a disaster,” I mumbled to myself.

I turned behind me just as my friend Phoenix walked by. “What was going on up there?” she asked, watching    

Bradley as he disappeared into the locker room. 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask Bradley and report it back to me?” 

Phoenix shook her head. “No thanks. I’m slightly terrified of him when he’s angry.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Well, he’s an asshole.”

Phoenix glanced back at the locker room before looking over at me. She lowered her voice as she said, “I have to tell you something about Bradley and it’s probably going to make you mad.” 

“Well if it has to do with Bradley, of course it’s going to make me mad.”

Phoenix sighed and began, “Well, I was at the Hard Deck the other night and ran into Anders. Apparently there is a rumor going around about you back in the Academy.” 

My eyes narrowed in on her and I clenched my fist, “About what?”

“Now don't shoot the messenger, you can be scary sometimes too.” 

“Phoenix!” I yelled, losing my patience. 

“Apparently Bradley started a rumor that the only reason you got into Top Gun was because you…” Phoenix trailed off. 

My heart began to race and I felt my cheeks grow hot. “Because I what?” 

“Because you gave Admiral Rhodes a blow job.” 

“What?” I shrieked and quickly began to walk towards the locker room. 

When I reached the door to the men's locker room, I pulled it open and immediately locked eyes with Hangman. A towel hung off his hips, showing off his incredible abs. I tore my eyes away, feeling a blush creep up my neck. 

“Where is he?” I asked. 

Without hesitating, Hangman pointed towards the back, where I assumed the showers were. There was only one shower being used and I walked over and pushed the white curtain aside. 

“Hey!” a very familiar voice shouted. “What the fuck?” 

I took a step back, not wanting to get wet. Bradley reached out and grabbed his white towel from the hook and wrapped it around his waist. I couldn’t help but notice how well built he was. His six pack abs were on full display and I hated how much I wanted to run my fingers along them. 

“What do you want Y/N?” 

My eyes snapped away from his body and I stared into his brown eyes. “I heard a rumor about me. One that you might happen to know about.” 

Bradley narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yea, I might happen to know what you’re referring to.” 

“Are you insane? What did I do to you besides tolerate you every damn day for the last four years!”

Bradley shrugged. “I’ve been a delight! You have done nothing but drive me insane.”

“You didn't know, the only reason I’m here is to drive you crazy!”

Bradley laughed. “Nope. The only reason you’re here is because you gave Admiral Rhodes a blow job.” 

My jaw dropped and I couldn't help but growl at him. “That never happened! I hate you so much.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, the feeling is mutual.” 

I took a step forward and shoved him hard causing him to stumble back into the shower, but before I could react his hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me under the hot stream of water. To my amusement my hands were pressed against his chest, and before I could register what I was doing my nails ran down his toned abs to the top of his towel. The moment was over when I pulled my hands away and brushed them through my now wet hair. 

“Do you have any idea how attractive you are when you’re mad at me?” he said, his voice low. 

His words caught me off guard. “Wait, what?”

The hot water was still running over my body and I was becoming increasingly aware of just how see through my white t-shirt was when I noticed Bradley’s eyes looking down at my chest. 

“I know I shouldn't be this turned on right now, but I am.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed a piece of wet hair behind my ear. “You’re such a prick.”

Bradley ran his tongue along his lower lip and smiled. A moment later his lips came crashing into mine. The urge to push him off of me came and went as my hands snaked around his neck and I began twirling my fingers through his hair. 

His lips moved quickly as he placed his hands on my hips, pulling me closer to him. My body was pressed against his and I could feel his erection against my stomach. My core slightly throbbed, begging to be touched by him. 

Bradley’s fingers toyed with the bottom of my wet t-shirt before he slipped them under and pulled the shirt over my head, barely breaking the kiss. My shirt dropped to the floor and I quickly pushed it away with my foot. By now the rest of the guys would have left, but I pulled the shower curtain shut just in case. 

His lips brushed softly against my neck before pressing against my ear and whispered, “Does that mean you want me to keep going?” 

My fingers toyed with the top of Bradley’s towel as I gave him a slight nod. His hands gripped my waist and he swiftly spun us around so that my back was pressed against the wall. Bradley hurriedly unbuttoned my wet jean shorts and pushed them down my waist before dropping them to the floor. He quickly turned off the water as it began to get cold, but not before our lips were once again intertwined. In the mess of clothes coming off, I hadn’t even noticed his towel dropped to the floor, proving to me that the rumors about how endowed Bradley Bradshaw was, were indeed true. 

“Well, well. I guess I won’t ever be able to spread anymore rumors about how small Rooster is.” 

He pulled back, slightly offended. “Wait, what have you been telling people?” 

I let out a small laugh. “What’s done is done, YOU told people I gave an admiral a blow job.” 

“And if you’re any good at it, I'll be sure to pass that on and your spot in Top Gun will have been well deserved.” 

I gave him a small smack on his arm before reaching over and placing my hand against his chest. My eyes locked with his as I slowly began to run my fingers down his chest and towards his stomach. My polished nails left faint red lines on his skin and Bradley looked all too amused as he watched me drop down to my knees. 

Bradley sucked in his breath as my hand wrapped around him. I slowly moved my hand along his length, which by Bradley’s reaction of pressing his hand to the wall to steady himself, was a good move. I gently grazed my tongue over his tip and his free hand instinctively moved to my long brown hair, giving it a slight tug. I smiled as his hips jerked forward, pushing his length further into my mouth. I didn’t miss a beat as I continued with my lips wrapped around him, causing him to let out a deep moan and pull tighter on my hair.

“Y/N,” Bradley breathed, “you need to stop…now.”

I let out a small chuckle before standing up and Bradley immediately pulled me against him. He placed his lips against mine, kissing me quickly. One hand wrapped around my waist, while the other moved up my stomach and towards my chest. His fingers played with my nipple, causing it to stand erect. With each touch, my core throbbed from being ignored by him. I rubbed my thighs together, trying to ease the tension but Bradley noticed. His hand moved from my chest, along my stomach, and towards my core. 

His calloused fingers ran along my center, coming to a stop at my sensitive spot. Two fingers rubbed against it and I let out a moan. Bradley’s lips continued to move against mine and he slipped two fingers inside me. He moved them against me and I could feel my high quickly approaching with each movement. 

“I’m close,” I told him. 

His fingers continued to move and it didn’t take long before my walls were clenching around him. My legs became weak and Bradley placed his hands on my hips, helping me steady myself. It had been a while since I had an orgasm that intense. 

Once I was able to stand on my own, I reached down and placed my hand on his erection. He took a step closer to me. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” he asked. 

“If you ask me one more time, I’m going to walk out of here,” I told him. 

“You’re making it really hard to hate you right now,” Bradley said, while placing a hand on the back of my thigh. 

My leg wrapped around his waist, and without hesitation Bradley pushed his length inside of me, my walls stretching around him. A gasp escaped my lips and Bradley smiled.

“You’re so tight.” 

He gave me a moment to get used to the size before he began to move his hips against mine. 

Each thrust pushed me closer to my second climax of the day. I let out a loud gasp as his length hit the perfect spot. 

Bradley smirked as I continued to melt against his touch. 

“I’m so close,” I whispered. 

He reached down and pressed two fingers against my sensitive spot, rubbing it casually. 

Within moments my walls clenched around him and my legs became weak. The humidity from the shower made our bodies sticky and sweaty, which only helped my arousal. Bradley continued thrusting and seconds later he released inside of me, a moan escaping his lips. 

The two of us stood there for a moment, catching our breaths. Bradley stared at me and I smiled shyly, fully realizing that we were both completely naked. I reached for the towel he had hung on the side of the shower and wrapped it around my waist. 

“That was mine.” 

I stepped out of the shower, reaching down and picking up my soaked t-shirt and shorts that had lazily been pushed aside. “These are the only clothes I have with me. How am I supposed to get home?” 

He walked over to his duffle bag that was sitting on the bathroom bench and pulled out a gray t-shirt. “Here you go. I can get it back from you tomorrow, after training.”

“That would imply I am inviting you over to get it, and I haven’t.” 

“Oh,” Bradley said with a wink. “You will invite me over.” And once again there was that attitude I knew and hated.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 9

Only one more chapter to go and that's the happily ever after.

Lot of talking in this chapter. Steve and Eddie, Eddie and Chrissy, Steve and Chrissy, back to Eddie and Steve. But we get to the most brilliant idea Eddie has had since choosing to marry Steve.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

The drive back to the hotel wasn’t a long one, but it still felt like it had passed by in a single instant.

When he pulled into the parking lot he was surprised to see Steve leaning against one of the pillars to the covered valet parking, smoking a cigarette. His feet were crossed at the ankle and his free hand was holding tightly to the arm that held his cigarette. His head was down, but Eddie could his hair wasn’t styled and his clothes were rumpled.

He got out his rental in a hurry and tried not to run up to Steve so it was this weird loping walk/jog thing.

“Baby?” Eddie called, leaning his head down to try and look him in the eyes.

“Eddie?”

His already broken heart shattered into dust when Steve raised his head. His eyes were red and swollen, his face blotchy with tears, and his expression was shuttered.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed, cupping Steve’s cheek. “What are you doing here?” If Eddie was the cause of another shop closing, he was going to start crying, right there in the parking lot, dignity be damned. “What about the bakery?”

“Robin is taking care of it,” he murmured, “she called in Claudia to help out, the shop’s fine.”

Eddie heart sank further. “But you aren’t. Why don’t we go up to my room and we’ll talk about it, okay?” When Steve didn’t say anything, Eddie backtracked. “Or we can go somewhere else if you prefer.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no. You’re hotel room is fine.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him and led him to his room. He sat Steve down on the one armchair in the room and poured a glass of water. He got out two capsules of ibuprofen and handed both to Steve.

“Drink up, Stevie,” he gently implored. “Don’t want you getting a migraine because you’re dehydrated.”

Steve nodded and did as he was told. Once he was done, he handed the cup back to Eddie who set it on the table.

“I was making snickerdoodles and started crying and couldn’t stop,” Steve murmured. “I know I’ve been awful to you all week and I’m starting to feel like that stupid Einstein quote or whatever about being crazy.”

Eddie chuckled and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?”

Steve nodded and then leaned into Eddie’s touch. “I’ve missed you so much, Eds.”

Eddie knelt in front of him and kissed his forehead. Steve let out a shuddering breath as the sobs threatened to choke him.

“What did you do to me that I didn’t deserve, Stevie?” Eddie whispered. “I left you, kept running when I could have come home, demanded a divorce, came to town and shook up your life and was just going to blow out of it again, never to be seen again? After all that, what did you do to me that wasn’t in self-defense?”

Steve let out another shuddering breath. “Kevin is just a pool buddy. We aren’t dating. I haven’t dated since before you. I couldn’t. You’re everything to me and I don’t know what I did to make you hate me.”

Eddie frowned at the name before he realized it was the guy he saw flirting with Steve his first night in town.

“I don’t hate you, baby,” he murmured. “I never hated you. I was so scared that I would be stuck in this hick town my whole life. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to meet new people, but I never stopped loving you.”

“But Chrissy?” Steve asked, tears slipping down his cheeks. Eddie right there with him with his own tears.

“She needs a visa to stay in America,” Eddie said his voice shaking with each word he forced past his lips, “and if we don’t get married by a certain date, they’ll ship her off back to Barbados. She’s my Robin, Stevie. She’s my Robin.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as he gasped. There wasn’t anything in the world that he wouldn’t do for Robin, even a lavender marriage if that’s what it would take to keep her safe.

“Oh.”

Steve threw himself at Eddie and pulled him in for a big hug. “Oh, sunshine,” he breathed. “That’s horrible. Of course you need to marry her, to keep her safe. I’m sorry you’ve been carrying this around like a millstone around your neck.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Eddie wailed. “I am so sorry.”

They slunk to the floor in a crumpled heap as they cried together.

Later they would get on the bed and just hold each other. But for now, they cried in each other’s arms and held on for dear life.

****

Eddie woke up for the first time in years feeling well rested and comfortable. His phone was also blasting “Hot Blooded Woman” as loud as possible.

He rolled over to grab his phone but was met with a warm body and face full of honey colored hair.

Eddie smiled and stretched over Steve to grab his phone.

“‘Ello?” he muttered, trying to keep his voice down.

“Eddie!” Chrissy shrieked. “I’ve been calling for the last ten minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

Eddie pulled his phone from his ear and stuck a finger in it to clear it out. “Chrissy, not so loud.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m freaking out that you weren’t answering your phone, Edward,” she huffed.

Eddie slid out of the bed and grabbed the room key on his way out of the hotel room. “I was sleeping, Christine. I’ve had a very emotionally wrought day and was exhausted.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two before he got a very chastised, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Ed,” she murmured. “I was having my own freak out and completely forgot about yours. That was fucked up, I’m really, really sorry.”

Eddie sighed and leaned against the door. “It is what it is. Why were you calling?”

“Um...” she hedged. “It doesn’t sound so dire in weight of your shit, so...”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Now you’ve got to tell me.”

“So, um...” she hedged a little more, “I called the bakery to see if I could talk to Steve and see if we could work out custody of you or whatever, but he was busy.”

“Snickerdoodles.”

“Yes!” Chrissy hissed. “Wait! How did you know?”

“Steve came to the hotel to see me,” Eddie explained, “and told me he had been making snickerdoodles when it just came over him that he just had to see me.”

“Cute,” she said and Eddie could see her tilt her head to the side in his mind, something she’d picked up from him. “Anyway! I’ll talk more about that in a minute. I need to freak out.”

Eddie shook his head fondly. “Continue.”

“So this really cute sounding girl picked up and wouldn’t let me talk to him because apparently their giant stand mixer eats phones!” Chrissy explained.

“Let me guess, you’re freaking out about the cute sounding girl?” he murmured.

“Is–is she Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked shyly.

Eddie burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that Steve opened the door and looked down at him. “You okay there, Eds?”

He nodded, pursing his lips together. “Would please explain to Chrissy that Robin isn’t your girlfriend, please? Please?”

Steve rolled his eyes but took the phone from Eddie’s grasp.

“Hi, Chrissy?” he greeted.

“You must be Steve!” she chirped happily. “Nice to meet you at long last!”

“Likewise,” he said fondly. “Robin Buckley is my partner in a lot of things, but as a staunch lesbian, she isn’t anything but my platonic soulmate.”

He pulled the phone from his ear as she shrieked. Eddie looked up at him with the biggest grin and made grabby hands for his phone. Steve handed it back.

“Oh my god!” Chrissy cried. “If I wasn’t set to marry you, I propose in a heart beat!”

“I never took you for a U-haul lesbian,” he teased her.

Suddenly everyone stopped stock still.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said scrambling to his feet. “That’s it!”

“I’m calling Robin!” Steve cried, diving back into the hotel room.

“Get on a plane, darlin’,” Eddie told Chrissy. “I think we just solved all our problems.”

“Eddie...” Chrissy breathed. “Do you think this will work? What if she says no?”

“She won’t,” he reassured her. “And even if she doesn’t agree today, she will once she meets you face to face.”

“This is insane, Ed,” she muttered. “I don’t know.”

“Babe,” Eddie breathed. “Jeff is already out here for his parents’ wedding anniversary. Brian lives in Indy, and I bet I could convince Gare to be on a flight faster than you can book your own flight. You’ve already told the immigration lady that you were coming down here to the wedding anyway.”

She sighed and took a deep breath. “Okay, but now I’m freaking out for a different reason.”

Eddie laughed. “Because now you’ve got meet the pretty girl on the phone?”

“And is she?” Chrissy asked. “Is she pretty?”

Eddie went searching through his phone for the pictures he took during his week here and found a good one of Robin and Steve at the bar. He sent it to her.

“Stevie is hottie on the right,” he told her, “and Robin is cutie on the left.”

There was silence on the line for a few moments before Chrissy breathed. “Right, two things. One, I think you’re an even bigger asshole for leaving that behind, by the way.”

Eddie bobbed his head side to side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“And two holy fuck,” she hissed. “I would go down on my knees begging her to marry me even if my immigration status wasn’t the fucking sword of Damocles hanging over my head, right now.”

“Someone packing her bags yet?” he teased her.

“Look, babe,” Chrissy said seriously. “I was already packing my bags to meet your scaly white ass out there in Bumfuck, Indiana, it’s just going to be a more enjoyable experience is all.”

“See you soon, Chris.”

“I’ll message you my flight details as soon as I get them.”

“Right-o,” he said and hung up.

The door to the hotel room opened up again and Steve leaned against the doorframe.

“Robin thinks it’s a great idea,” he said softly. “One of her schools was already out there in Washington, so this makes the choice easier. Plus, this means she won’t be alone in the city like she thought she would be.”

Eddie got to his feet and put his arms around Steve’s waist. “This only clears up seventy percent of the problem.”

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Eddie cupped his jaw tenderly. “I still have a life out in Seattle. I want to be here with you, but there is so much to do before that could happen.”

Steve draped his arms around Eddie’s neck loosely. “I know that, Eds. I wasn’t expecting a miracle cure. So the only thing I need to hear from you is that no matter how far apart we are, that you’ll still love me.”

Eddie pulled him in for a hug and they stood there, half in the hotel room and half in the hall, just taking comfort in each other.

“I promise you this, Stevie,” he whispered in his ear, “that I will move heaven and earth to find my back to you. Something I should have done a long time ago.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I think we both needed to grow up before we could properly be together.”

Eddie let out a contented sigh. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Steve pulled him back inside the hotel room and Eddie closed the door behind him.

****

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[trashmouth-richie]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:  𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬?

𝐭𝐰: 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, heavy angst! 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

𝟔.𝟐𝐤 — my goal was 10k let’s all laugh masterlist

a/n: good morrow cousin, don’t mind me just vibin’ anyway— pls ignore the lack of formatting, google docs… count your days. this story still means so much to me, i won’t jump ship on it, and i hope you understand the mental headspace i get in while writing and how 🥰draining and crippling🥰 it truly is 🥲 BUT I DO IT FOR YOU MY LOVERS! ♥️😵‍💫

Sweaty hands were clamped in a bone aching constriction around your steering wheel the entirety of the drive to the club. Watching the whispy curls of dust from the gravel color the powder blue sky, you mutter to yourself.

This was so stupid.

Magenta hued beads hanging from the rearview mirror sway and clack together as you pull the car sharply into the your designated spot towards the back of the parking lot. Flitting a quick glance in the mirror to see if Eddie was still following, you tear your eyes away when the jet black steel of the fender catches the sun's rays, sending a blinding wink into the side mirrors as he approaches, parking alongside you.

This is crazy. This is insane.

Wiping your palms hastily on the ruby stockings pinched to your thighs, you wonder when the nerves in your chest would settle. If your stomach would ever stop churning with the rapid wings of a swarm of angry bees?

Why were you nervous? It was just Eddie.

Your knee bounces of its own accord as you remind yourself of just that. The dry swallow of the tablets you took before he could notice would start working in no time, and then you’d be able to stomach what you were getting yourself into.

Eddie Munson. A childhood friend. Taking a few deep breaths, you open the door into the shared space, and are met with that shit eating grin he never lost.

Here we go.

Green lensed aviators are nestled onto the bridge of his nose, a black bandana snug on his head that you definitely didn’t watch him tie back at your apartment as he straddled the bike before revving the engine and shooting you a daring smile.

Crunching gravel beneath his boots, he stands with hands in the back of his pocket.

“So…” he asks, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the club, “when did the Hideout go belly up?”

A sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to get the laundry from the backseat of your sedan, voice muffled, “eighty…-three, I think..” you say strangled like, as you struggle with the bulk of the laundry basket. The strap of your purse is slung over your shoulder when you finally emerge from the car and stand upright to face him.

“Here,” he offers, holding his hands out in offering his help.

Puzzled, you look at everything in your hands, deciding against thrusting the basket of sheets into his awaiting arms, you nod your head towards the car and step out of the way, “sure, my shoes from the back? I just gotta find the keys.”

Switching the basket to your hip you dive into the depths of your purse looking for the keys to unlock the club doors.

Eddie’s fingers curl around the straps of your high heels. A look of bewildered awkwardness coloring his brow. The aching reminder of his actions that damned you to this life were held between his fingers. Cheap leather material, a small brass buckle, plastic.

He slams your door in defeat, hating himself more with each day of being back in Hawkins.

Your hand finagles the key, jingling it out from the mess of your purse. When you look up with a sly little quirk at the corner of your lips for your triumph…Eddie has planted a fake smile on his lips… one that was buried within him before you can see the sadness in his eyes.

“Ready?”

Mrs. Click rattled on and on about WWII, sounding more like the adults in a Peanuts episode every second that ticked by. A loud yawn escapes Eddie’s already slack mouth as he doodles in the margins of his paper, a blue smear on his hand from the ink.

A crumpled ball of composition paper lands on his textbook skidding across the slicked pages and finding home against the wire of his notebook.

Without looking around Eddie already knows who the note is from. A simple scrawled sentence with big loops on the letters and a smiley face after the question mark.

“Lolly wants ‘sketti’ for supper tonight… you in? :)”

His dimples well deep in his cheeks as he scribbles a reply, stealing a glance your way. When Mrs. Click’s back is turned to scratch a hiss of powdered chalk into the board, he lobs the note back to you, hitting your shoulder lightly.

A slow smile creeps across your face as you flatten the note with your palms and read your best friend’s scratched handwriting.

“Hell yeah!”

…

The halls were quiet, Hawkins High students busying themselves with tests and worrying about grade point averages. Not even the janitor Sal was squeaking down the halls.

“If Ms. Judy catches us…”

“She won’t.”

“What about Higgins? I can’t get detention again, my dad will slaughter me.”

“Clove…” Eddie grumbled, stopping his task of picking the lock to look at you with the deepest sincerity, “I promise, we’ll be fine, okay?…just, shit, keep your eyes peeled, I’m almost… there…”

A wicked sliver of a grin plays on his lips.

“Yahtzee, baby! C’mon”

The door to the school kitchen swung open beneath his hand. The smell of Comet cleaner and fresh baked bread invade your nose.

The blade of his knife is closed with a clink on his hip as he bends low with a bow for you to go in first, “let’s go shopping.”

“Set them wherever,” you say nonchalantly, pupils adjusting to the darkness as you step through the threshold into the club.

Walking to the counter and shifting the basket on your hip tossing the keys on the bar, you wiggle off your purse, and turn around to see him standing by a barstool, looking slightly out of place, like a lit Christmas tree in the summertime.

Seeing Eddie in the club, in the depths of sweat and sin was gut wrenching. The club was accustomed to pleasuring pastors and preachers, cops and school teachers. They had all traipsed across the wood floor in their Sunday best, shoes shined to godliness… leaving with lipstick stains and reeking of alcohol. Sin on their breath and in their Hanes.

No, him being here made you feel like your skin was crawling, and that you were about to scream at any given moment.

Heaving the basket onto the nearest table, you take a wounded breath, holding it for longer than necessary to squish your toes along the muddy depth of Lover’s Lake. You spin to avert the lingering glances from Eddie, his eyes burrowing into you like hot steel to butter.

Slotting yourself behind the bar you holler over your shoulder, “park it, I’ll get some drinks.”

Lights flicker and hum an exhausted tune as they slowly shine light to the grim bar, just enough to not be cast in complete darkness.

Eddie grabs the stool in a swift all too cool motion, sliding his long frame over it, the chain on his hip jingling against the wood as he sits, “just water for me…what?” he laughs.

You’re turned facing him with a furrowed brow, holding two of the cleanest shot glasses Queens had in one palm, the other steady on your hip, an annoyed look on your face, “don’t make me drink alone, Slim.”

He laughs again, a loud abrupt sound as he shakes his head, tucking his sunglasses in the neck of his shirt. A modest blush pinking his cheeks as his tongue runs over the sharp edges of his canines.

You haven’t budged, and Eddie finally looks up to meet your stare.

His eyes are glassy, dark and almost a sheen of velvet to them under the shadow of bandana, and the comical yellow rubber of the bandaid.

If eyes were the windows to the soul, you were familiar with his scenery, this particular essence was hurt like you, wounded in the same ways. The past showed through the forlorn strangeness of the last few years like a weathered map with all too familiar paths. Looking into his pools of deep darkness felt soothing in a crippling ached breath.

Features could change but eyes couldn’t, they kept you anchored to him stuck in the void of his mud.

It’s a game before you realize it.

A stare down… in dim light, eyes drying by the second, but it’s Eddie who folds first, no cards left to hold, or rather letting his opponent win. Like old times.

“Always such a headache, huh? Fine,” he exaggerates with a petty eye roll, “you win.” The crooked smirk on his lips gives him away, matching your own.

The two stout glasses clink together against your palm, a bottle of Jameson held by its neck in your other hand, “Not much has changed I see,” you quip, setting them down and pouring the whiskey into the first one, “you still suck at games.”

Eddie cringes as you pour the second, “trying to kill us? Do you not remember what happened on your fifteenth birthday?”

You erupt with laughter, tossing your head back and giggling in that little way he hadn’t heard since you were kids, “oh please,” you snort, thinking back to how drunk the both of you had gotten, “you don’t either.”

Eddie smiles, “probably not the greatest idea I’ve had.”

Sliding a glass towards him you hold yours up, the lights coloring the dark amber into a caramel pool of regret, “to us.”

“To old friends,” Eddie follows, in a grand accent, holding his glass next to yours, “burying the hatchet, stitching old wounds..”

“Alright Shakespeare wrap it up.”

“.. to you.” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face, and you shudder involuntarily before tipping the glass against your lips and swallowing the liquor.

It burned on your tongue, hot and unwelcoming, sliding like lava down your throat. Eddie winces, making a sour face as he slaps his glass down on the wood top of the bar.

“Fuck, that's horrible.”

“Ah,” you say, pulling a lever on the tap and putting a tall frosted mug under the spout of draft beer, “it’s not that bad.”

He watches as you pour another beer walk around the bar with one in each hand. His cheeks pink when you smile at him, and he quickly pulls out a stool for you.

Leaning your back against the counter you sip your drink. The bar is empty but the roaring waves of silence crash loud in your ears. It’s strange. Being here with him, would you ever get over seeing him after so many years?

“I won’t lie, Clovie, ’m not much of a drinker.” Eddie admits, rubbing his thumbs along the frosted mug.

“Well,” you say, holding your beer up to your lips, and looking over the edge to meet his gaze, “today you are.”

Taking a generous sip you smile when he follows suit.

“Eddie Munson, back in Indiana,” you tease, elongating the vowels of the state, “never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, tossing long curls behind his shoulder, “missed the scenery.”

You scoff, “yeah the luscious rolling hills of the trailer park really get me feeling like Julie Andrews too.”

He cringes, raising his brows for emphasis, “Those hills have eyes.”

“Eww..” your nose crinkles, “Craven outdid himself with that one, I still won’t watch it.”

Eddie takes a pull from his beer before adding nonchalantly, “that’s cause you’re chicken shit.”

Blowing a raspberry with your lips, your eyes narrow as you spit an insult. “This coming from the guy who slept with his lights on after watching E.T.”

“When he turns white by the river?! Fucker looks like a crushed powdered donut!”

It was easy falling back into the throws of jokes and banter with Eddie. You both giggle like kids talking about movies that had shredded horror as kids but now made you cringe with how poor they were done.

After a particularly long laugh about whether or not you still carried around your security blanket, Eddie sighs, “I thought this was gonna be weird,” Your nerves had calmed at the expense of childlike humor and talks of times long ago, that you finally slide on the stool he had pulled out for you. “us…. this place… Hawkins,” he bumps your elbow with his, “ shit I mean, we’re drinking in a bar, legally! Who would have thought?”

Your grin warms his heart like honey in a cup of tea, “somehow the beer doesn’t taste any better once you’re old enough to drink it.” The sip you took from your frosted mug was far from ladylike.

“You’re right,” he agrees, following your lead and taking a big gulp, “something forbidden always tastes better.”

Right now you felt like Eve, enjoying the fruits of company from Eddie Munson, and your cheeks heat. Rick hadn’t crossed your mind since he drove down the driveway this morning, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“…a motorcycle, huh?” you say changing the subject, “honestly didn't think you were the type.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a little dimple pitting in the plumpness of his cheek, “Type? Like I need to be a colossal douche to drive one, hell…it’s good on gas, real fast. I got a buddy who fixed it up for me, owed me a favor for a cover up I did on his back.”

“Cover up?” you ask, eyebrow quirked, “like…a tattoo?”

“Yeah,” he says, swiveling on his barstool to face you, rolling his sleeves up past his elbow showing off his tattooed arms in the space between you both, “did these myself, just something I do for fun.”

His skin is embellished more than it is bare. Dark swirls of onyx branched out along his left wrist and up to the rolled fabric of his shirt, and you wonder if it disappeared up to his arm, around his torso? The marks seemed to flow like a river, connecting, gathering, forking this way and that, etching more pages to a story of an unfamiliar tale. You hoped to one day know its origin.

Without asking, your fingertips trace the outlines of the black ink, delicately following the path.

They circled around a rose covered in heavy dark thorns, dripping with blood. It had bloomed in a grassy knob made of lyrics from songs you had never heard. The inscriptions continue to channel along to a long silver dagger with a jeweled embellished handle of pretty emeralds that were shaped in irregular patterns. The dagger sunk into his skin and poked back out, shredding tendons and marrow in its wake… all exposed, coming to a point at his wrist.

It was as if he created his own armor, each intricate drag of the needle serving as a steady reminder that he would overcome. You can’t help the smile spreading on your lips, you had never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

“Should have guessed you’d end up being some sort of artist, Eddie, these are really lovely.”

He smiles, warm and inviting as he reaches for your hand, angling it towards him to get a proper look at the stick n poke tattoo he did years before.

A rough thumb sweeps along your skin, and the whiskey coloring of his eyes pour into yours, “I could fix this for you, make it look better.”

“Absolutely not,” you falsely gasp, “I love it just the way it is… besides you didn’t cover yours up either,” you point to the tattoo on his left hand. The small heart and clover were faded and blown out, a stark contrast difference against the shadowed dark lines around it.

You grin and meet his eyes. “Do you remember how hot it was that day?”

Eddie had always kept that memory at the surface, remembered as if it were yesterday, thinking about it often. As if your hand was still sweating in his, he could practically smell the peanut butter in your hair, feel the dampness on his shoulder from your tears.

“Yeah,” he says with a sad little smile, “I remember getting our asses chewed because we burnt supper.”

The light leaves your eyes and your smile fades, venom on your tongue as you spit, “should have poisoned them both… could have saved ourselves a world of trouble.”

Eddie’s stomach rumbled at the empty hollow feeling it used to play on repeat, if it weren't for you, he would have starved indefinitely.

“Juvy couldn’t have been that bad, THREE meals a day? Shit, practically a cake walk.”

“Yeah, lucky bastards,” you admit, a small lost look on your face as you drop his hand, mind wandering to the long forgotten childhood you were abandoned in. If your dad wasn’t screaming at you and raising a fist it was the neighbors ignoring the hollering and groaning of furniture snapping against thin walls from the Munson trailer. Never a silent hour in the park.

It’s quiet for a few beats as you drink your beer, finishing it a few swallows and leaning over the bar to grab the bottle of Jameson, pouring another round.

“So, the motorcycle, tattooing… you must be fighting off the ladies.”

Eddie laughs, his eyes darting across your face with a quirked brow, “not hardly.”

Rolling your eyes you sip at the bitter drink, “don’t be prude Munson, tell me.”

He scoffs and moves hair from his neck, suddenly interested in the bottom of his drink, “I’m not telling you the woes of my love life, thanks.”

“C’mon..” you pout, showing your bottom lip, “we never got to have talks like this!”

Eddie snorted at the pathetic pout you showed, “yeah and we aren’t gonna start now because there’s nothing to tell.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you scowled at him. “You’ve always been such a bad liar, bet your ears are red,” you reach for his hair in a feeble attempt to reveal what you both already knew to be true.

“Quit!” Eddie yells playfully, batting your hand away, “alright yeah, I’ve had a girlfriend or two,” he shrugs, “never anything serious.”

You grin at him lazily, elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm, even though your heart sank a bit at the thought of him loving someone, “ahh, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie blushes under your stare, “speak for yourself.”

He looks down, rubbing condensation from his mug with his thumbs. “And you? d’you uh… got a boyfriend?”

Your smile fades and you try not to shiver in disgust as you pour another shot. Slapping the glass down hard on the counter as you drain it, “I wouldn’t exactly call him that… it’s more of an… agreement.”

His face breaks into a jigsaw puzzle, “what does that mean?”

“Dont wanna bore you with ‘my love life woes’…” you interject, ignoring him, putting the tip of your finger in his glass and dragging it towards you. Tipping in more Jameson and sliding it towards him.

The buzz was tickling your fingers, a lightness took over your head as the alcohol seeped into your blood.

“Down to the meat and potatoes Slim…why are you home? I mean it’s not as if this shithole holds any happy memories.”

He brought the shot glass to his lips, sipping it down as you pour yourself another.

How did you not know that the only happy memory he had of Hawkins was you? He didn’t know how to tell you that it was the memory of your smile that kept him company when the nights were cold and he didn’t know where his next meal would come from.

He takes a deep breath, “my uncle died,” he squints with a puckered sour face at the burn from the liquor shaking his head, “Al is either dead or on another bender so…” he claps his hands, “here I am… met with his girlfriend today actually.”

You frown, reaching for his folded hands, tapping his knuckles, “‘m sorry, Eddie. Wayne was sweet, respectful, a regular here… to the bar, not the club.”

Eddie rolls his shoulders, trying to untie his tongue to ask the question that burned in him, “when did you um... start working here?”

Your stomach drops at his question, and your nails clack around the Jameson bottle again as you dump yet another splash into your glass. Your answer is muffled behind a choked swallow.

He frowns, racking his brain, “wait.. isn’t that…”

“My birthday,” you fake cheer, eyes too wet for normal conversation, “big 1-8.”

“Jesus...”

Eddie’s eyes shut in horror and your doomed fate. He covered his mouth with a fist to shield you from his quivering bottom lip. It was a far fucking cry from what he could have even imagined.

His eighteenth birthday was no glorious day either but he wasn’t forced to work in a strip club. His stomach churns, making milk into butter at the thought of your naive innocent eyes, and how they had almost hardened to steel in his absence.

The whiskey is working its magic now you’re feeling a little hot behind the ears, fuzzy in your head, dizzy eyed.He stares for a while over at you, watching in disappointment as you get clumsy with the pours, spilling a little on the counter and wiping it away with your bare hand, as you slug down, yet another, shot.

You stand suddenly, stumbling behind the bar and to the chip stand. Your fingers miss the clips in your attempt to release the snacks but they finally find home and you grab a bag, flinging it to him before opening one for yourself.

“Cool right?” you say, struggling to open it, tongue poked out in drunken concentration.

“Y’know I think most kids get a car,” the bag opens sending a confetti of salted crumbs and chips scattering to the counter to be crunched at your feet. Trying not to meet his eyes you talk to the ceiling, “maybe a crisp hundred dollar bill for their eighteenth. Clove? Blisters, a couple of bruises.. oh, and my name! Carved on the bathroom door, for a good time call…”

He’s struck dumb. Shell shocked and blinking back tears. Eddie clears his throat and reaches across the bar for your hand but you pull away from him, instead grabbing for the bottle.

“Welcome back.” you muse before pressing the mouth of the bottle angrily to your lips… foregoing the glass entirely.

Tipping your head back the now tasteless liquor slides down your throat with ease. An expert at coating the agony, you wait for your brain to lose oxygen and beg for an intake of breath, silently hoping you’d drown instead.

Years have passed of you dulling misery with anything you could get your hands on, liquor, pills, a little bit of nose powder… you’d tried most of the things Rick sold. And it worked until you needed more and more. It was a vicious cycle you were chasing.

But with Eddie here? It was nearly impossible to breeze over the truth.

When the bottle, in its near emptiness, slapped against the counter… a pair of dark eyes stare up at you, wide and sad, glossy with tears of shaming guilt.

Eddie couldn’t have guessed that your life was going to end up this way. He was naive in thinking that. Fucking stupid. He should kick his own ass for leaving the way he did, but his options were limited. Still, he’d wear the brunt of this mistake on his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

Your eyes were empty, lost, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He shook his head slow, voice gravely.

“I owe you years worth of apologies, Clove.”

You’re more than tipsy at this point, and suddenly you can’t form words as your breath is trapped in your throat.

He was practically in tears as he tried his hardest to explain himself, tried to right this wrong.

“I was young, so fucking stupid..”

“Eddie..” As much as you wanted to know what happened it suddenly felt like too much, like your brain would implode, unable to process the heartache any further.

“Just listen, okay? Please?” He’s begging for your attention and you would rather melt into the floor. “I never told you, I never told anyone.”

Thicker than thieves. Eddie knew you like the back of his hand and likewise with you, so what the hell was he talking about?

…

“Check the back, I’m sure the canned stuff is there.”

The kitchen was eerily quiet, filled with sleepy rays of the afternoon sun, loaves of bread set out on the counter fresh from the oven for tomorrow's lunch.

You pad on tip toes to the back room lined with shelves of aluminum cans, and dried goods. You didn’t know where to start.

“How many should we take?” you whisper yell over your shoulder, “Two? Three?”

Eddie’s using his shirt as a basket, filling it full with small cartons of milk, shoving apples in his pockets, “Look for the big ones, then we won’t have to come back for a… oh fuck yeah, come to daddy.”

“Ew, Eddie!”

“Found some cheese!” he cheers, “we could make garlic bread!”

Label after label your fingers skimmed over the cans. Peaches, tapioca pudding, green beans, lima beans, and finally… in a can larger than your head, crushed tomatoes.

“Jackpot,” you whisper grabbing the cans and adjusting them one under each arm, “ready?”

Eddie’s frame fills the doorway, arms bundled with an assortment of goodies, a fresh loaf of bread in a plastic bread sack between his teeth, a joker’s grin wide on his face, “let’s roll.”

…

It was pure dumb coincidence that an exit was next to the cafeteria. You were surprised at the fact that Eddie's jeans didn’t fall down to his ankles from the extra weight of food heavy in his pockets as the two of you ran to his van and sped back to the trailer park.

“We made out like bandits, gonna eat like kings tonight, Clovie.” Eddie’s smile is spread wide as he helps haul the looted school food into your trailer.

Years of yellowing stains from tobacco use shown on every surface, a permanent haze of smoke lingering in the air, baking in the sunlight. Dishes littered the sink in standing dirty gray water, gone ice cold.

“Sorry for the mess,” you explain, reaching into the sink to pull the stopper, “I fell asleep before doing them while reading Lolly her library book.”

Eddie opens a drawer looking for a can opener, “and your dad didn’t come unglued? You must be Irish with that kinda luck.”

“He was passed out, I could have lit the place on fire and he wouldn’t have known, and he was gone before my alarm went off this morning.”

Peeling back the tin lid after pinching it open with the can opener, Eddie grunts, “yeah, my dad left early this morning too, said something about keeping my ‘filthy fucking hands off his stash’ and that he’d be gone for a few days.”

It was an enormous relief when it was just you and Eddie to fend for yourselves. Most teens could barely use the stove to make popcorn, but you had been taking care of yourself and Lolly for years. It was what you preferred.

Reaching for the one good aluminum pot that was stashed above the fridge, you pull it down and remove the magazine clippings of recipes you wanted to try or things that looked easy to make with the very little your cabinets held. “Good, glad they’ll be gone.”

Eddie sucks a tomato sauce covered thumb into his mouth, smiling in a way that made your cheeks heat, “almost like you read my mind.”

He’s hesitant now, fumbling over his words and brushing hair from his neck.

“I, you know I always talked about leaving Hawkins…practically had it all figured out by the time we were thirteen.”

You remember how serious his face was when he cupped your arms in the kitchen, his words branding themselves in your skull like a prisoner counting down days.

He swallows roughly, running hands through his hair, “I… I wanted you to… firstly…I need you to understand that I didn’t want to leave… not without you.”

Playing coy you brush off his serious tone, “.. stop.”

“I’m serious,” he sighs, reaching for your hand and your stomach flips when his calloused palm clamps tight on your knuckles, “you were everything to me.”

“.. c’mon Eddie, that’s just the liquor talkin’ now.”

“t’s not… and with me,” his eyes seem to grow in size as his sincerity leaks through them, “I’d never tell you something like this while drunk.”

You swallow dryly and nod, accepting that whatever he was about to say was true and real.

He takes a sharp intake of breath, as if this particular memory hurt him more than any other. His eyes were growing dark. solemn, and he squeezed your hand as he begins.

“I think it was about a year before I left… we made spaghetti with shit we stole from the cafeteria…”

A pain in your chest blossoms with a thought you hadn’t remembered until now when he reminded you. The taste of cheesy bread in the oven and salty tomatoey spaghetti invade your mind.

“I still can't eat spaghetti.”

A quick smirk dances in the corner of his lip and he meets your eyes, “yeah… me neither, I stayed over on the floor of the bathroom.”

You nod, remembering the sounds of Eddie retching into the toilet while you laid in your bed, a popcorn bowl keeping you company, thankful that Lolly hadn’t gotten sick. Even though you had gotten screamed at for being sick yourself when your dad and Al came back earlier than expected.

“Well, I was awake when they came home. They didn’t know I was there or even awake, and they were talking ‘business’.. you know those trailer walls are so fuckin’ thin, couldn’t not hear them.”

His eyes pinched shut like you would on a rollercoaster when it’s too scary, shaking his head, his other hand clamped over the one he held yours in, rubbing as if he could possibly buff out the callouses.

You can’t do anything but stare at him. Frozen in place. Scared to move, not even breathing.

“They had been talking about how some of their new “talent” wouldn’t be ready to go right away but… goddamn…” his voice cracks and he shakes his head before his demeanor falls and his voice gets quiet almost mute, “they had someone in mind to fill in in the mean time…”

No.

It shouldn’t have been a shock, shouldn’t have gutted you on the spot, usingyour intestines as a jump rope, but somehow, hearing this from Eddie’s mouth made it worse than if you were to hear it from them yourself.

You wanted to run away, to hide and never come out of a dark hole.

“… I hoarded away any nickel I could find, because we were going to leave. Together.” he squeezes your hand on the last word, possibly trying to bring you back to life as you stared ominously at the counter next to your conjoined hands.

The stagnant air is cold between you, and you aren’t sure if you’ve taken a breath within the last two minutes or not. Cold sweat formed on your lower back and any high you were feeling was dull, a competition to fight with your lucidness. Eddie took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“I replay that day over and over… how my dad came home, screaming about how I was a man now, needed to start helping with the family business stop freeloading like my mom… y’ know somethin’ Clove, to this day I’ve never touched that shit, and that was the one and only time I’ve ever seen heroin.” He hangs his head and you shift on uneasy feet.

“Telling him no was my first mistake, But I had to stick up for myself, had to let him know that I wasn’t gonna be like him,” he spoke now through gritted teeth as he admits, “but instead he swung on me,” Eddie chuckles despite the gravity of his words, “got a few good jabs in before he pulled those brass knuckles out.”

Your hand flies to cover your mouth before you realize it’s open in horror.

“I packed the van when I heard him leave, pocketed the cash I had saved up. This was it, we were getting the hell out. You and me, Lolly too… fuck I can’t even imagine how crazy I looked covered in blood,” he sighs then, shuttering like, voice shaking, his eyes wet.

Your heart broke for him. Broke for his demons that followed him around like a shadow. “I… I didn’t even get a knock in on your window before I felt a gun pressed to my head …”

It’s your turn to take a shaky breath, and you can’t hide the burn in your nose or the way your mouth tingled from holding in tears.

His voice is low, broken, “… I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t just me they were threatening. He made it more than clear how easy it would be to get rid of two kids nobody wanted to begin with.”

Slipping in and out of present time, you imagine how scared Eddie must have been. The look of terror on his face as a grown adult held him at gunpoint. How his own dad hit him until he bled, how he tried to get to you, tried to save you. You were a fucking fool for hating him when the one you should have been hating this entire time was yourself.

“… he followed me to the van… told me he’d fill me full of lead if he ever came back.”

You pinched your eyes shut, imagining him driving away from the only home he’d ever known, from his life, from you.

His voice fades in and out, as he works through the emotions wavering in his body. “I should have come back for you, should have, I dunno.. I’m sorry, Clove.”

It’s quiet as you process everything Eddie has said. The pain you’d shoved down for years is raging towards you like a bull. Red, angry, demanding to be felt. But you would hide from this terrorizing house of horrors for as long as you could, and you step out of the bull’s way, deflecting.

“Music!” you screech out of nowhere, through the thick haze of sadness, “we need music.”

Standing abruptly, sending the now empty bottle of Jameson clattering across the counter, Eddie tries to steady you from across the bar, his cheeks damp.

“Whoa, hey.. you okay?”

“I gotta,” your hands roam over yourself in search of pockets, “…hey you got a quarter?” The floor seemed to move as you teetered toward the jukebox, keeping your eyes on the colorful lights as you walked towards it like a moth to a flame.

“Wai…” he takes a step forward reaching for your hand but deciding against it, hand going limp by his side, his eyes searching inside your own.

You desperately want to break against him, to throw yourself in his arms and let him hold you until the tears dry on your cheeks, but you can’t let yourself be so vulnerable. Not in front of Eddie, not in front of anyone.

“Clove…” his voice is tender, concerned, “c’mon, you need to sit down.”

“No change? That’s okay, Slim,” you squeak, cutting him off in a rush, forcing a fake smile as you silently curse yourself for sounding so derailed, “Gotta change anyway.”

Spinning and nearly tripping over a stool in your attempt to get to the dressing room, you avoid the swelling brown of his eyes like the plague.

“Larry or Kenny should be here in a few, tell ‘im you’re on my tab and you can eat all the wings you want for free tonight, ‘kay? I’ll be back!”

The tears slid before you could stop them, hot pools that stung your eyes like acid. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked…no you definitely shouldn’t have pushed to know the reason why he left.

The bar was still spinning, waves of heat hitting you like an oven.

You prayed that your Eddie would come back to you, come home to save you and take you away from this life, but he’s here now and it’s entirely too much for you to deal with.

Vomit rose in your throat before you could swallow it back, and walking down the ruby carpeted hallway, your stomach empties itself on the floor before you can find a trash can, the wall holding you up as you crumble against it. Heart bruised and battered, despite Eddie’s efforts to mend it.

He stood in the open bar, soul empty and hollow. So many confessions left unsaid were formed but couldn’t quite fall from his lips. The conversation he wanted to have was not the outcome he had hoped for. He yearned for you, how close the two of you used to be and how it was torn away too soon. Time was a thief and the years spent apart ate at him, and all he can think of is the small manila envelope he kept of letters that went unread, addressed to you.

thank you for taking the time to read 💋 i know this chapter has taken for fucking ever to come out but i hope it was possibly worth it🥀

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[munchmemes]

taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part one

fortnight

▸ i was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me. ▸ i was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic. ▸ no one here's to blame but what about your quiet treason? ▸ for a fortnight there, we were forever. ▸ i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary. ▸ i love you, it's ruining my life. ▸ thought of calling you but you won't pick up.

the tortured poets department

▸ who uses typewriters anyway? ▸ you're in self-sabotage mode. ▸ we're modern idiots. ▸ you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate. ▸ i chose this cyclone with you. ▸ sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me. ▸ so tell me, who else is gonna know me? ▸ that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

▸ you should've seen them when they first got me. ▸ i only break my favourite toys. ▸ i should've known it was a matter of time. ▸ we could've played for keeps this time. ▸ i know i'm just repeating myself. put me back on my shelf. ▸ i'll tell you that [you/they] run because [you/they] love me. ▸ i knew too much. ▸ you saw forever so you smashed it up. ▸ once i fix me, you're gonna miss me. ▸ you took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts and told me i'm better off but i'm not.

down bad

▸ for a moment, i knew cosmic love. ▸ now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. ▸ everything comes out of teenage petulance. ▸ fuck it if i can't have [you/them]. ▸ i might just die, it would make no difference. ▸ i might just not get up, i might just stay down bad. ▸ fuck it, i was in love.

so long, london

▸ my spine split from carrying us up the hill. ▸ i stopped trying to make you laugh. ▸ how much sad did you think i had in me? ▸ i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. ▸ i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free. ▸ you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it. ▸ my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair. ▸ just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode? ▸ you swore that you loved me but where were the clues? ▸ i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

but daddy i love him

▸ i just learned these people only raise you to cage you. ▸ i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you. ▸ they slammed the door on my whole world. the one thing i wanted. ▸ you should see your face. ▸ no i'm not coming to my senses. ▸ i know [you/they]'re crazy but [you/they]'re the one i want. ▸ all my plans were laid. ▸ growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all. ▸ i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning. ▸ i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace. ▸ i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing. ▸ god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me. ▸ you ain't gotta pray for me if all you want is gray for me. then it's just white noise and it's just my choice. ▸ scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer. ▸ fuck 'em, it's over. ▸ time, doesn't it give some perspective?

fresh out the slammer

▸ fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to. ▸ handcuffed to the spell i was under, for just one hour of sunshine. ▸ years of labor, locks and ceilings, in the shade of how [they were] feeling. ▸ it's gonna be alright, i did my time. ▸ as i said in my letters, now that i know better, i will never lose my baby again. ▸ my friends tried but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing. ▸ ain't no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake here.

florida!!!

▸ you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too. ▸ they said i was a cheat, i guess it must be true. ▸ this city reeks of driving myself crazy. ▸ little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in. ▸ i'm barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. ▸ well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time. ▸ yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine. ▸ all my girls got their lace and their crimes. ▸ i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body. ▸ i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida. ▸ tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable. ▸ love left me like this and i don't want to exist.

[emmitaaa4]

look i just find it a little funny that people—for the past 3 years—have been adamant that Azriel’s book is next ergo gwonriel is next... undoubtedly: they have the nb of appearances on their side (💀). it was THE argument.

and we were crazy and lacked common sense for saying elain’s book was coming and that the increased presence of Az + his secrets revolving around Elain = he gets the 2nd PoV in Elain’s book. outrageous fr.

… it’s not really the G/A ship that bothers me, it’s the lack of logic.

The “Az book” insistance exposes the recency bias, but also the flaws in their reasoning:

elain’s story being pushed aside in favour of a necklace/ribbon-centered love triangle (opposing 2 women) that originated in a bonus chapter… really?

the idea that gwyn would get a PoV before elain (let go of character preferences for a second and ✨ponder✨).

worst yet: in general, Gwyn only ever serves as a LI in their theories, a sidekick to Az & Nes because gwyn isn’t directly nor uniquely tied to any plot point (atp).

the way they gaslighted ppl into thinking more training & libraries & HoW gang (with 0 new characters) is more urgent to the narrative than an Elain story; than a *new* story that actually advances the plot & characters.

them not getting that gwonriel would be a consequence of elucien: E/L would have always needed to happen 1st because it is ELAIN’s story & choice.

you can’t just compare the structure of ToG and Acotar as if they’re equivalent: the PoVs work vastly differently, and either way it’s always the women that primarily drive the action… i.e. Nesryn & Yrene in ToD. “bUt cHaOl’s boOk”

if anything LUCIEN is the Chaol of acotar (it’s a compliment i adore chaol). and Vassa’s presence/importance in the series relative to other side characters makes her the closest we have to a Nesryn or Yrene figure. Gwyn is more of a Fenrys.

their characterization of Az goes against what we know of his character; “Az is horrible to women but but it’s ok we love him cause he’s different with Gwyn! she makes him better, she’ll help him heal… mates!!” …how convenient. and weird.

they acknowledge only a (convenient) portion of Elain’s character. her visions / powers involve Koschei… but also much more. Cauldron and Truthteller? never heard of them. Nuala & Cerridwen don’t matter (they’re spying on her guys!), her attraction to Az is dismissible… Lucien being her mate is all that really counts. her “need” for sunshine is her character… a result of picking and choosing of ‘evidence’ ngl (as is the way they spin all her scenes with Az). etc.

refusing to acknowledge the feysand bonus. or the set up in FaS. or the continued development of Elain in SF.

Tbh, as it’s becoming increasingly clear to the fandom that Elain is indeed most likely next, im wondering how they’re spinning this. Mother knows I hate the ship wars, but please let people realize the next book was always elriel “vs” elucien.

[unicornpopcorn14]

13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Do not-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.  

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: sorry for the delay!! i'll try and get chapter IV out much faster

“He’s so infuriating,” you groaned, flopping down onto Ivy’s bed as she sat at her vanity, peering at you with amusement. 

“But how was Thor–”

“He insults my wit, my wit,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “My wit is what makes me interesting.”

“I think it’s interesting you’re focused on Loki when his brother is the one that’s courting you,” Ivy mumbles, looking at her nails. You send her a glare, biting the inside of your cheek. You had come home from the races coursing with adrenaline. It was a lot more exhilarating than you expected, even if the company was lackluster. You hated the stares from the rest of the ton as you sat with the two princes. While you appreciated Thor’s company, having a verbal sparring match with Loki was not on your agenda for that day. Which is why the second you got home, you ranted to your sister. 

“This whole courting situation is rather tiresome,” you groan, holding a pillow over your face. Ivy chuckles, grabs the recent gossip column (Lady Valkyrie), and sits beside you on the bed. 

“You’re the talk of the ton,” Ivy sighed, slight envy in her tone. You sat up, looking at her curiously. “Everyone is gossiping about you and Prince Odinson.”

“I don’t want to be the talk of the ton,” you rub your eyes, glancing at the words on the page. Lady Valkyrie talks about your ‘spitfire personality’ in a way that gives you slight satisfaction. “Why can’t you be the talk of the ton?”

“Because I am not as interesting as you,” Ivy says, eyes bright as she looks at you. “And that is alright.”

“You deserve it more than me.”

“It is not a matter of being deserving; it just is.” Sometimes, Ivy could be wiser than you gave her credit for. You wrapped her up in a hug, resting your head on her shoulders as she patted your head. “There’s another dance happening today if you want to come?” Ivy looked at you expectantly, but you just shot her a look. “Or not.”

“Why are there so many events?” you inquired.

“I assume people are desperate to meet the one,” Ivy sighed, getting up and returning to her closet. She held up two different gowns, raising an eyebrow in question. You pointed at the right one and then went back to scowling. “You should go.”

“I’ve done enough socializing for one lifetime,” you curled into a ball facing the window. “I’m going to stay home and read.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Ivy hummed, already messing with her hair. 

The truth was that you needed more books to read, having already exhausted your collection. Which in and of itself was a feat, considering you seldom ran out of books to read. You decided to take a self-care day, heading to the town and finding a new novel to distract yourself. The town wasn’t that far of a walk, and you needed the space to think critically about your situation.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Thor; you did. He was kind and courteous and found you attractive and not at all crazy (or he found you crazy but didn’t care). Still, you didn’t feel that spark. That sense of electricity that was described in your romance novels. You just felt…the same. You had never been in love, though; there was no barometer. 

The air was crisp, and you enjoyed feeling the wind tossing your hair around. You gave polite nods to anyone you passed but generally kept to yourself. The bookstore was close ahead, though, and you were anticipating your next novel. Unfortunately, any chance of solace you had was ruined by the sight of a familiar raven-haired prince exiting the shop. You felt yourself glower as you approached, and he shot you a smile that read as anything but happy. 

“All alone?” Loki asked, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“I’m allowed,” you went to move past him, but he blocked the entrance. “Is there something the matter, your highness?” Loki shook his head, moving out of your way. You pushed into the store, hearing the bell ring above your head as you headed straight for the section in the back left. You felt Loki follow you inside, trailing behind you as you started looking at different titles. 

“I didn’t take you for a romance reader,” he said, voice close to your ear. It made you jump, and you turned to find him directly behind you. 

“Do you have no sense of personal space?” you hissed, but he ignored you. Loki grabbed a book from right above your head, grimacing as he flipped through the pages. 

“Terribly drab.”

“Bold of you to comment on what is romantic,” you snatched the book from his hands, hiding your grimace. It wasn’t a novel you would’ve chosen of your own volition, but you felt insistent on not letting Loki know that. You put the story back on the shelf, grabbing a different title instead from an author you admire. You appreciated that while the book involved romance, other storylines were going on that didn’t make it dreadfully dull. There was adventure, treasure, and more. Loki narrowed his eyes at you as you held the book to your chest. 

“For a lady being courted by a prince, you don’t seem to be excited about the ordeal,” Loki exclaimed, startling you. 

“That’s none of your business–”

“It’s my business when it involves my brother,” Loki leaned against a shelf, arms crossed and head tilted like you were a fascinating creature. You hated how relaxed he seemed, even as there was a split-second thought that he looked good posed against the various hardcovers. 

“You don’t seem that interested in any of this, either,” you shot back. 

“I’m not; people are boring,” Loki chuckled, a dark sound that sent chills down your spine. You fought the urge to shiver. “Let me help you.” You narrowed your eyes, unsure what he was getting at. “Whatever reason you are participating in the season, it’s not because of personal want. My father is eager for one of us to get married, and it won’t be me,” Loki sighed at this point, turning so his back was against the shelf and looking up at the ceiling. “I’ll help you secure my brother, and in turn, you help me get out of my familial expectations.”

“I don’t need your help with your brother,” you scoffed. 

“Sure you do,” Loki smiled like he knew a joke you weren’t a part of. “Considering he could be courting another lady at any moment, your obstinance won’t get you anywhere. You’re also the…best choice.” He had to spit out his words at that like it pained him. 

“Best choice?” Your words caught in your throat when Loki stepped closer, towering over you with the haughty air of someone who knew they held all the power. 

“I don’t like you,” Loki murmured, close enough for you to hear every word. “But you’re more interesting than the rest of the ton. If anyone will join this family, I would hate for it to be one of them.”

“It sounds like you do like me,” you replied, heart beating slightly faster. 

“Careful what you say, pet,” Loki stepped back, taking the heat from the air with him. Clutching the book to your chest like a shield, you carefully observed the prince before you. You didn’t need help, or at least, you didn’t think you did. You were under no illusions that you’d experience a love match. Still, perhaps Thor was your best option. It would satiate your grandmother, and you wouldn’t have to see her disapproving gaze daily.

“If I say yes…what do I have to do?” You whispered, eyes looking down. You could almost feel Loki’s satisfaction in a way that made you grit your teeth. 

“Just wait,” he hummed. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“You’re terribly ominous.”

“Perhaps,” he grinned, his smile half-cocked and a serpentine glint in his eyes. It felt like making a deal with a demon, a promise that would only do more hurt in the long run than good. You can’t help thinking about your grandmother and this ridiculous expectation she put on you. You didn’t want to get married; you didn’t care. But the woman was more impatient than not, and you hated how she beat down Ivy for her inability to secure a match. It took you several seconds to meet Loki’s green eyes and even more before you could steel your mind into an impenetrable fortress. 

“Then yes,” you mutter, eyes narrowed. “I say yes.”

Loki just chuckled. “Then let the games begin.”

taglist:: @gruftiela @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @saay-karani @choki.laufeyson

[mioakem]

Ranking all canon gen 1 ships (including nemma and scottney bc of Noah and Courtney)

Gwuncan- ew, i feel like I don’t even have to explain it

Gidgette- honestly I’ve never liked it, they were cute in season one but after that they literally just made out all the time

Scottney- ugh they were fine, like they were kinda cute but also if they wanted to put Courtney with someone after Duncan cheated on her then it should’ve been with Trent bc she’s a petty queen

Gwent- ok they were good in season one but also they were kinda boring? Like idk I was never invested

Ozzy- they had their moments, I’ve grown to like Owen more and more which makes me like ozzy more, idk they’re pretty cute

Coderra- pls pls pls pls pls let me explain for a second 🙏 ok so ik ppl hate them but like….I just have this huge soft spot for crazy girls and idk something abt that one clip at the beginning of roti where she’s wearing his hat and he’s smiling at her is just so adorable and I can’t help but love them

Nemma- putting them as high as I possibly can bc I actually love them together. Idk they just work so well? And it was cute to see noah in love, idk why ppl hate them sm (well I do buttttt) they’re just the best, but sadly I physically can’t put them above the others

Lesharold- ok I’m like…actually a huge Lesharold shipper. They’re just too amazing to resist, like the dynamic? He’s a loser whos head over heals for her and she’s a baddie who he somehow pulled AND they’re in love? Holyyyy shit

Aleheather- words cannot express how much I love Aleheather. They simply are just enemies to lovers, dare I say they are the perfect example of that. Actually scratch that, they’re enemies who love each other, bc even when they started dating the enemy status never left, that’s why they’re this high up.

Duncney- I would like to start this out by saying that this is season 1 duncney. HOLY SHIT THEY ARE JUST THE BEST EVER. I am in love with their whole dynamic. They drive each other crazy, he brings out her wild side while she brings out his soft side. He has the biggest soft spot for her and he pisses her off to no end. Duncney is the most perfect thing on this planet and you cannot take that from my cold dead hands

Lyler- ok even though I’m obv a huge duncney fan I have to admit that lyler is actually my fav ship in the whole damn show. Like idk maybe it’s cause I just love both characters sm but something about them just makes me giggle and kick my feet, like every time I see lyler fan art I get this huge smile on my face bc they’re just so adorable, anyways best td ship, love them sm