#there’s no friendship sweeter than theirs

[ghost-proofbaby]

who could stay? (you could stay.) (eddie munson x reader)

summary: you're convinced that being loved comes with a cost. he finds a way to prove you wrong. (wc: 9.7k+)

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Keep going, keep going, keep going. 

Agree to run that errand for someone. Offer a shoulder to cry on for that person. Fix that problem for this friend. Keep going, keep offering, keep becoming indispensable. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact age you’d figured out the formula. You can never know for sure if the day was sunny or if it were rainy, if it were a calm December morning or a buzzing July night, but those details aren’t very important. The only important detail is that you had finally cracked the code at some point – you had finally figured out the solution to feeling unlovable. And that was that, truthfully, there wasn’t a solution. Once you were destined to feel this way, to feel so sour at your core, there is no easy way to rid yourself of that rotten pit. It would always be there – always churning, always burning, always yearning. Yearning to be loved, yearning to feel those waves of warmth cascading over your brain and down your spine, the ones others had always described to you but you’d just never… experienced. Never became familiar with.

It felt like everyone was playing an over-elaborate prank on you. They’d all conspired against you, invented a false feeling in which someone claims to feel loved, only to sit back and watch as you fumbled to find it. They’d laughed as you dug through a graveyard of relationships, caked your fingernails with dirt as you sobbed and would continue to claw deeper, trying to find just one set of bones that might hold that warmth for you. 

The only solution to that detrimental feeling of being unlovable, was to feel needed. 

You needed to feel so necessary, so essential, to everyone around you at all times. It never mattered how much of you it took. You’d give away every piece of yourself a million times over just to feel wanted at some capacity, even if that capacity were one you’d forced upon the other person. You didn’t care if you’d built the glass cages of theirs – you just cared that they kept you around to wipe away any smudges that appeared. 

Being wanted wasn’t quite the same as being loved. And if you thought about that for too long or too often, you might just break irrevocably. 

“I just don’t understand him,” Nancy sighs from the head of your bed, reclining against a wall of pillows you’d lined your headboard with. Two of which were body pillows. Long tubes of fluff to try and fill lonely spaces, you suppose, “Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to go to the same college? Why… Why do I feel like I am forcing him to be with me?” 

Because you are. Just like I force you all to need me. 

“I don’t know, Nance.” 

That bland, bitter, half-thought out answer lingers on your tongue, almost burns your throat with the whisper of say more, say something useful, say something comforting. It’s the whisper of those four words not being enough. It’s the whisper of that threat that those four words could be the beginning of the end, the thing that makes Nancy realize she doesn’t need you. 

After all, what use is a friend that can’t give good advice, or be supportive during relationship rants? 

You open your mouth to add on something sweeter, something to coat the conversation like honey and smooth out the lines forming on Nancy’s forehead, but she beats you to it, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

Yes. “It’s fine,” at least that wasn’t a lie – you’d dug this specific grave, had rooted down tooth and nail only to find another empty coffin of a friendship curtained with want instead of love. You’d all but asked for this, “What he did really was shitty. It’s not fair to you.” 

The words are almost robotic, telling Nancy Wheeler what she wants to hear rather than what she needs to hear.  You don’t always do that, you do make a point of investing in the truth from time to time to truly secure your position as someone who is genuinely needed in her life, but the headache nagging at your temples tells you it’s not worth the fight tonight. You’re tired, you’re agitated, and you really just want to get Nancy to the point of contentment in her rambling so that you can send her on her way. 

God, you’re an awful friend. 

It turns you quiet, a ricocheting thought that bruises your inner skull the rest of the time Nancy sits on your bed. The guilt eats you alive for that moment of irritation the rest of the night. Even after Nancy goes home, even after you’ve brushed your teeth and you’ve tucked yourself into bed. The guilt gnaws on the edges of that emptiness inside of you, that ever-present black hole that already existed, and says this is why you cannot be loved. 

Maybe the pity party for feeling like a bad friend is what makes you a bad friend. 

And maybe if you were a better friend, you would be loved instead of wanted for once. 

It’s all part of a cycle, never-ending and treacherous. It’s always been this way. You make promises to your friends and rip yourself to shreds before remolding yourself into whatever they need; giving rides to the younger kids within your circle to the pool all summer which evolved into taking turns with Steve as to who would pick them all up after their D&D club ran late every Friday night, always lending a listening ear to Nancy once Johnathan moved away and she’d had to witness her relationship and her love vanishing in real time, always being the one person who will listen to Robin ramble for hours about her sudden interests. None of it was born of ill-intent, but when you’d go home lonesome at the end of the night, you could see it all for what it was. 

You were trying to fill a void. A hollow rot, a black hole. And it was only working half the time. 

Half the time, until he came along. 

And make no mistake, his arrival was as bloody as anyone who had previously entered your life. For a while there, you believed his headstone was at the end of the line already, sanctioned away in this graveyard of the ability to be loved. He came crashing into your life on a random Friday night, and you had sworn you could already see the end as it began, but you had been wrong. 

“So, you’re the infamous babysitter.” 

His voice caught you off guard. You’d been sitting in your car with your windows down, enjoying the reprieve of a cooling autumn evening as you waited for the boys to finish up with their D&D club. With your head buried in the latest sci-fi novel that Dustin had recommended and would no doubt be grilling you on once he got in the car, you hadn’t even heard the club exit the school. 

“Nope,” you fought a smile as you glanced up from the pages to see an older guy standing there, closer to yours and Steve’s age than the kids. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the famous Eddie all the boys would ramble on about for hours on end, “Harrington’s the babysitter. I’m just the taxi driver.” 

There was something particularly pretty in the way he threw his head back with laughter at your words. Curls that messily fell just beyond his shoulders, full lips disappearing as his teeth peeked through and shined beneath the parking lot’s lamp posts. His denim vest looked purposefully distressed with a mirage of patches and pins, and he was wearing a leather jacket beneath it, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough for it yet outside. He was cute – and watching him laugh because of you sparked something irreversible inside of you. 

“C’mon now,” he sighed as his cackles quieted, “Give yourself more credit than that. At least call yourself something fancy, like ‘chauffeur’.” 

“Ah, but ‘taxi driver’ insinuates that I charge them,” you don’t miss a beat, and your quick wit has him chuckling again. 

You caught sight of his eyes, corners creased with joy – brown. They were deep, russet, tantalizing brown. Almost indiscernible from his pupil in the dark. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You took his hand that he shoved through your open window with ease, and felt an immediate shiver run down your spine. Not quite from the cold, but not quite warm. You saw the first flash of his grave, and you knew you’d be digging your greedy hands into it soon enough. 

As you gave him your name in return, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone. 

You had been half right that night. You wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone, you would be seeking out the impossible from Eddie – but so would he. 

It quickly became apparent that Eddie was a pest. Someone who weaseled his way into the lives of others, who made his presence felt and never forgotten. 

You’d started with the same slow dance as you did with every new person, a hesitant dipping of your toes into their waters, unsure if your presence in their life would only cause more trouble than you’re worth, when you quickly discovered that nothing could ever be hesitant or slow with Eddie Munson. He’s the one constantly reaching out to you. Driving the kids home now takes double the time it used to, long conversations being had with him that has the kids dragging you away, practically begging to just be taken home. The day he’d asked for your number, you couldn’t tell which one of you burned brighter red. And the moment he had your number in his clutches? Forget about it. You never heard the end of Eddie Munson, and you never really wanted to. 

Unlike your friends you already had and loved deeply, Eddie was observant. 

It’s within the first month of knowing you that he had picked up on your insecurities. Maybe he hadn’t directly seen that gaping hole in your chest yet, but he noticed your habit of running yourself dry to see others thrive. 

The need to be needed. He picked up on it quickly. 

“What about Sunday?” Eddie’s voice traveled over the line as you laid on your stomach, stretched out across your bed for a few moments of rest before you had to get up and take the cookies you’d baked for Steve and Robin into Family Video, just like you had promised, “I’m free then if I finish all my fuckin’ homework on Saturday night.”

Surprisingly, that phone call with Eddie hadn’t been something expected or planned. It had been impulsive; in a rare moment of peace, you found yourself craving to hear his voice. Somehow, the two of you had ended up trying to figure out a free day to properly hang out. Eddie wanted to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, and you wouldn’t turn down the free fries he also promised.

“I can’t,” you paused just to hear his predictably dramatic sigh, grinning as you continued to explain, “I’m taking Max to the skatepark that day.”

“And it’s going to take all day?” 

“It could!”

“There’s absolutely no way.”

“You clearly haven’t seen that girl skate.” 

The conversation continued, light-hearted enough with plentiful jokes made. Something about talking with Eddie made your heart lighter, the usual unbearable and contradictory weight of emptiness no longer on your mind as you listened to him ramble about something that had happened in one of his classes – a teacher tried to embarrass him when he caught Eddie doodling for a D&D campaign by asking him a question, not expecting him to know the answer. Eddie had, of course, leaving the teacher baffled with a smirk.

 It’s all about my charm, sweetheart, he responded when you asked how he hadn’t earned a detention from that. 

Only towards the end of the call, when the conversation finally lulled and the two of you found yourselves settled into a comfortable silence, did Eddie finally circle back to the beginning of your conversation. 

“You know,” he started, “When I first met you, I never took you to be someone so…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Funny?” you jokingly attempted to finish his sentence.

“Busy.” 

Oh. You hadn’t expected that one. 

“Busy?” you repeated back to him, “I’m not that busy.” 

Your mind immediately started racing with thoughts of what he had meant. Was he feeling neglected? Maybe you should have canceled on Max on Sunday, agreed to Benny’s with him instead. No, you couldn’t bear Max’s disappointment. Maybe you could tell Max you had a time constraint, even though you knew she hated those when it came to her skating days. Was there any other plans you could abandon? Anyone else you could bear to let down for the sake of not leaving Eddie high and dry? No, no – all your other weekend plans involved going to the movies with Robin, helping Steve look into colleges finally, taking the boys to the Starcourt mall to shop for supplies to make figurines for their newest campaign. The room was suddenly getting smaller, your chest constricting, your head spinning. You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing any of those people, no, but what about Eddie? Maybe he was right in feeling neglected, maybe you deserved whatever guilt was to come from whatever his next words would be. He was your friend, you were supposed to make time for h-

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed over the line, and you swore you heart stopped right then and there, “You’re the highest thing in demand since Cabbage Patch Kids last Christmas – and trust me, I should know how in demand those fuckers were. I worked seasonally at the mall, remember?” 

Your breath caught. He was feeling neglected. You weakly began your apology as tears were already filling your eyes, that panic turning over itself in your gut, “I’m-”

“And it’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong,” It’s clear your voice had been too soft, too weak, for him to hear you, “Just means I’ve gotta fight harder to be worth your time, am I right?” 

You had to clear your throat, but it did nothing to subsidize that anxiety that rattled your bones. It’s blatantly evident as your voice shook with a second attempt at an apology, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean- I can… I’ll… Just tell me when for Benny’s. I can make it work, I swear-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” 

He had to have heard the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. The shake of your breath as you’d stuttered over your words, grasping for a solution. 

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” his voice was soothing and soft, the most gentle it had been the entire night. You pinched your eyes shut and just tried to imagine those stupid, big doe eyes, those ungodly messy curls (you’d started to tease him about if he ever even brushed or combed them). The panic remained, but Eddie’s voice started to give it a run for its money, “I was just playing around. You know that, right?” he paused to give you room to answer, but your throat was still tightly squeezed by overwhelming emotion, overwhelming fear of having scorned Eddie, “You could only have enough time in your schedule to see me once a year, and I’d still be your friend. We could only have these random phone calls, even if they were never longer than a minute, and you’d still be worth it. You know that, right?” Another pause, another wave of silence from your end, “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.” 

Each word made the panic settle. You weren’t sure how he did it. You weren’t sure how mortified you should be that he had only been in your life for a month at most, and had just overheard you at your most vulnerable. 

All you were sure of was that you believed him. 

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling that ring of fear loosen, vocal chords finally functioning once more. 

“Okay,” Eddie repeated back in that same gentle, soothing, soft tone. 

You weren’t disappointing him. You weren’t making him feel neglected. He still found use for you, he still wanted you around – he still needed your friendship. That had to be enough.  

It was quiet over the line for a few moments. 

It has to be enough, you reminded yourself. 

“Say,” you finally said, voice back to normal strength and the tears having dried themselves up for the most part. Your heart had almost returned to normal rhythm, “How does Benny’s sound tonight?”

“Tonight?” he chimed back, sounding as excited as a little kid the morning of a cherished holiday, something like Christmas. 

A shiver ran down your spine. It’s not from the cold, and you tell yourself it’s not quite warmth – it can’t be warmth. 

“Tonight,” you confirmed, “With a detour by Family Video, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a special delivery of cookies to fulfill.” 

“What kind?”

“Excuse me?” 

You were grinning - God, you were a pathetic fool, grinning and clutching onto that phone like a lifeline. Like if you let go of it, you’d lose his voice, and if you lost his voice, that would be the end of the world. 

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He hummed, not answering right away as if he were deliberating this information. When he finally spoke again, another shiver wrapped around your spine, spinning down, down down. Waves of what you almost believed were warmth. “Okay. I suppose I can be your taxi driver, for a price.”

“What’s your price?” 

“One cookie.”

“Deal.”

It had to be enough, because you were still clutching that telephone tightly to your cheek, long after the phone call ended with Eddie’s promise of being at your house soon enough. It had to be enough, because after that night, it became clear; the world would not end with the loss of just Eddie’s voice from your life, but the loss of Eddie, period. It was the first night of many in which you played a very, very dangerous game. 

Even with Nancy gone, you felt restless. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer in all that self-pity, still replaying the night and all you could have done differently. 

Had she caught on with how out of it you had been? Had she seen through your act and immediately assumed the worst – assumed you weren’t worth keeping around? 

The thoughts might be an overreaction. 

You were definitely overreacting. 

You didn’t really care that you were overreacting, though, because you really couldn’t control it. It was just another dark path you couldn’t stop your mind from traveling down. It was endless, and it was lonesome, and… and it was just normal. What should be devolving into a panic attack can only settle like an emptiness deep within your chest; you’ve been staring at the blank wall of your living room for so long without blinking, your eyes have gone dry. 

A pattern. That’s what the therapist said. You had a pattern for overthinking these interactions, for projecting feelings onto others that didn’t exist. You think all your friends hate you, you think that a stranger found your smile to be more of a grimace, you think your mom hasn’t called in months because she recognizes you as a failure finally. But none of it is actually what those people think. It’s like a mirror – you look into the eyes of others, and you see all your own insecurities reflected back. 

She’d asked you to work on it. To take a step back and just breathe, just remind yourself of that, whenever this happens. You’d decide whether you’d mention this minor slip up later. For now, you were going to wallow. You were going to spiral with just you, this damn blank wall, and maybe even the bottle of wine in the fridge. 

Yes, your mind was made up, and you force yourself to stand from the couch and wander into the kitchen, eyes still dry and chest still caving in on itself as you open the fridge. 

That’s as far as you get. Your fridge is wide open, the bright luminescent light flooding your kitchen floor in time with the trickling chill that sneaks up on your warm cheeks and already numb toes, when you spot it. 

A box of takeout. It’s old enough now you could throw it out, you had known the moment he’d taken the last of his meal to-go that he wouldn’t finish it. Teased him about it, even. But he was stubborn and you weren’t capable of turning down the opportunity to let another piece of him, another flash of evidence of his place in your life, occupy this apartment. So there it sat, a half-eaten burger he hadn’t revisited. 

But he had revisited the apartment – revisited you. He’d been here every night this week, and you’d practically had to shove him out on the street to get him to leave this morning to get to work on time. 

The edges of that emptiness that weighs down your insides blur, already lightening microscopically as you slam shut the fridge and forgo the wine completely to grab the phone instead.

“You don’t have to always take care of everyone, you know,” he murmured as he joined you in the kitchen to retrieve popcorn for the gang, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie night. 

“Pardon?” you asked, hardly glancing over your shoulder as you punched in the designated time for the microwave to turn the kernels into an easy, mouth-watering snack of butter and crunch. 

“You always take care of everyone. You don’t have to.”

His words rang clearer that time, loud enough to have stopped you in your tracks. You paused mid-reach, the cabinet for the Harrington’s bowls wide open and shelves nearly too tall for you. 

“I-” you weren’t sure exactly what to say, “What do you mean?” 

His brows scrunched, eyes having narrowed in the slightest in your direction, “Please don’t play dumb right now.” 

“I’m not playing dumb. I’m trying to get popcorn for our movie night,” you waved your hand towards the shelves lined with bowls for emphasis on your point, “That’s not really taking care of everyone – it was just being polite. Steve’s hosting, it’s the least I can do.” 

“The least you can do? The least you can do is actually just sit with friends, enjoy the movie,” the crease between his brow deepened, eyeing you with an unfamiliar concern. You shifted beneath the weight of his gaze. 

You don’t know what to say. Except, “It’s not that serious.” 

He scoffed, and you nearly flinched from it. Fear threatened to bubble up – he’s upset, he’s getting irritated at you. He’s getting tired of you. 

You waited for him to say something more as the buzz of the microwave filled the tense space, but he remained silent. Brooding. 

“What?” your voice shook, your entire being torn between succumbing to all that fear and anxiety in upsetting him further and that voice in the back of your mind that urged you to push him, to hear what he really thought. “I know you have something more to say.” 

“In the six months I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single break for yourself.” 

He met your push, stood his ground and didn’t let it put any distance between you two. It felt like a goddamn revelation, right there in the Harrington kitchen. 

“I take plenty of breaks, Eddie,” you tried to laugh off, “I do spend time away from you all, hard as that may be to belie-”

“Hardly,” he cut you off as sharply as the first resonating pop that echoed from the microwave. 

“What’s your point? I just like being around you guys. Like I said, it’s not that serious.”

This was the part where the distance would happen. You kept pushing, took the inch he’d given you to bite back and ran with it. Normally, you avoided conflict with any of your friends vehemently. Always afraid, always assuming the relationships to be so fragile and so delicate. You would take such care in never giving them a reason to hate you that you’d never taken to a battleground before.

But there had been a look in Eddie’s eyes that night. A shine that, breaking through all the worry for you, whispered, fight with me. Stand your ground with me. I’ll still call you tomorrow, no matter what words we exchange tonight. 

A safety net had formed that you’d never even noticed. That delicacy wasn’t needed here. You could pick up the sword, there in that kitchen, and it wouldn’t turn Eddie to smoke and shadows. 

“My point is…” he paused, he swallowed hard, he exhibited the delicacy that was usually expected from you, “You can like being around us. But you should put yourself first. At least once. At least on movie night.” 

“How is me making popcorn not putting myself first?” you got the question out, you took a deep breath, ready to go on some sort of defensive tirade for your habit you were well aware of.

He beat you to it, “Every day last week, you only got three hours of sleep, at most, before your shifts. You gave up sleep to hang out with us all way too late, refused to throw in the towel and go home before anyone else.”

“I could have napped-” 

“You didn’t nap,” he stressed, taking a step closer to you. The popping of the snack turning in the microwave was erratic, mere seconds left on the timer. Static noise to the conversation at hand, “I know you didn’t fucking nap after your shifts because you were immediately running errands for everyone else, or hanging out again. You offered to give Robin a ride to work every single day, and her shifts start… what, an hour after yours ended? And then you had to give her rides home, right? But in those hours she was at work, you were helping Dustin with an essay for school – that little fucker told me all about it. You were awake when Johnathan called you and we were all stoned off our asses, went and got us food we didn’t need but still wanted. We didn’t even expect you to pick up, you know? I told them, I swore to them, you wouldn’t pick up. You had a morning shift. You were scheduled literal hours from when we called you. But you picked up. You fucking picked up, and you went and got the fucking food for us fucking idiots.”

Your brain completely malfunctioned. You couldn’t comprehend how he was saying all of these things that should be good things, things that proved you were needed and you were reliable, but with such venom in his tone. 

Anger had sparked within you as you pictured how giddy Dustin had been over the B he’d earned on his essay, that sincere appreciation on Robin’s face every time she left your car last week, the dopey grin that Argyle had worn when you’d arrived with their food order in your pajamas. All previously things to fuel you, filling that aching hole inside of you, now being tarnished because he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you seethed at him, “Would you prefer I hadn’t been awake? Would you prefer I let Dustin just… get a fucking F on that essay? Or Robin walks to work?” 

“Yes!” 

You were both shocked at the sudden volume in your voices. The quickness in his reply. The quiver in your lip. 

“Yes,” he breathed out, quieter this time, “I would prefer those things if it meant you were taking care of yourself. The word ‘no’ should be in your vocabulary, sweetheart. I… The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.”

But you all needing me might.

“Just… just…” your breaths came out in huffs, eyes downcast and unwilling to meet Eddie’s stare. A final push, and it came out more fragile than you’d ever intended, “Just mind your business, Eddie.” 

He opened his mouth to say more, but the microwave started to go off, signaling what you saw as the end of the conversation – the fight. You’d raised your voice at him, you’d swung that sword in his direction, and he hadn’t vanished. His friendship – he – wasn’t as breakable as you’d thought. 

You spun on your heel, you took the popcorn out and divided it into bowls for the group, busying your hands in any way possible. All the while, he never left the kitchen. He stood just feet away from you and let you do what needed to be done, and only stopped you as you turned to exit the kitchen with the snacks acquired. 

His hand caught onto your elbow, “You have bags.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You have bags under your eyes,” he elaborated. He no longer looked frustrated, but defeated, a morose distress pinching the edges of his feature.

“Jesus,” you were now scoffing, adjusting your grip on those bowls, “You really know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

“They’ve been there for months,” his grip refused to loosen, thumb trailing over the crease in your arm, “Please don’t run yourself into the ground.” 

You gave him a cold shoulder as you left him behind to rejoin your friends, unable to shake his consternation. It was so genuine, it terrified you. It made your insides churn, it turned your anxious attachment to dust. 

It made a shiver of warmth travel down your spine. 

The empty space beside you on the couch only remained for seconds after you’d passed around the bowls, keeping one for yourself. He was back there, back at your side, as if the two of you hadn’t just exited a battle ground. As if a stand-off hadn’t just occurred, as if it all hadn’t ended in a draw. 

He looked at you with those eyes.

Fight with me. Stand your ground with me. Don’t walk away from me. I will still call tomorrow.

He did more than call that night. As the movie started, he didn’t so much as flinch when your head fell to his shoulder in exhaustion. He only tucked an arm around your shoulders, only shifted you to be more comfortable as you used him as a personal pillow. He glared at everyone in warning not to grill you on the plot of the movie when you’d awoke mildly disappointed, he’d let you sleep on the drive home. He never once brought the fight back up. 

And he still called the next day. 

After your shift, he was the first voice you heard after dragging your feet into your apartment. A brief apology was exchanged before it was back to business as usual between you two. And somewhere between his rambles, you fell asleep with your phone balanced half-haphazardly between your cheek and shoulder. You could only dream of the grin he wore when he’d hear your soft snores over the line, quieting down immediately to let you rest. He never hung up – he was content to sit on a hushed line if only for the assuredness that you were finally resting. 

The warmth no longer traveled down your spine, instead curling up timidly near that hole inside of you. You let it. 

“Munson residence!”

That warmth that had found home in your chest still remains to this day, rousing at Eddie’s voice over the line. It’s nearly enough to make you cry – the relief that floods you just by the sound of him and his endless chipper. His optimism that always seems to exist, even in contrast with those harsh edges he tries to portray. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, as if you’re not the only one in your apartment, “Can you… Are you free?” 

Even after a year, you still sometimes felt guilt, asking so much of him. Asking so much, and giving so little in return. 

But you weren’t the one who set that standard. Eddie had. Ferociously, fiercely, stubbornly. The insistence that you simply being was enough for him. 

“For you, sweetness?” he chuckles lowly. He recognizes your voice immediately; you never have to say it’s you calling. You could have shrugged it off as Caller ID, but you knew the Munson’s phone didn’t have that. No, he recognized you by voice only. He’d once joked that only you would one day be able to rouse him from the dead, based on the ‘sweet melody alone’. Recognition in death – you had managed to burrow your way so deeply into his life, you’d earned recognition in death. “Always. What’s up?” 

You could have just kept him on the phone. Had one of your infamous conversations about everything and nothing. Sat on the cold tiles of your kitchen and smiled like a child as you listened to him rant. But the cold chill of your lonesome apartment was becoming suffocating, and you remembered that take out in the fridge and the way one of his socks had ended up in your laundry last week. You remembered how you started keeping his favorite brand of beer in your fridge and how one of your pillows started to permanently smell like his aftershave.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He had a key to your apartment. He had a space, here, in this lonesome apartment. And all you had to do was beckon to him, and he would come to fill it. Always. 

“Can you come over?” 

You don’t even have to explain yourself. He complies readily, whispers out a soft yes in the voice you’d also recognize even in death, and promises to be there within ten minutes. 

He makes it within eight. 

And you’re still leaning on your kitchen counter, your head still swimming dangerously with all the different ways you’d let down Nancy. Once upon a time, you might have worried about inviting him over, worried that your anxieties and your short-comings might bleed into your relationship with him. In the beginning, it had been simple enough. You kept him at an arm’s length away the moment you realized you couldn’t make yourself needed to him, not out of selfishness but out of fear. Fear, because if he didn’t need you, why would he stick around? 

Because without need, if you did the wrong thing, there was no necessary thread tying them to you. Because without need, there was no chance for the day that you might find love in your grave robbings, and you couldn’t handle the thought of someone like Eddie Munson deciding you weren’t worth his time. 

It hadn’t occurred to you for a very long time that maybe, possibly, you’d been going around the concept of love with a very wrong mindset. 

Your safe place. That’s what the back of the van had become over these sticky summer nights – your safest refuge. 

It was always the same scene; Eddie on his back beside you, lazily nursing a joint, while you sat up reading passages of the latest book you two had embarked on together. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was fantasy, and sometimes, it was just a reread. That night, it was a reread. The Hobbit. 

“‘I don’t see that this will help us much,’ said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. ‘I remember the mountain well-’” you recited off of the page, when Eddie suddenly sat up abruptly and snatched the book from you. 

“No, no, no!” he wagged his finger at you after he discarded his joint into the ashtray you’d made him start keeping in the fan, “Sweetheart, you’re doing the voices all wrong.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching to take the book back, “Not all of us have a Dungeon Master voice to whip out, Munson. Give it back.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Do I need to say please? I’ll say please.” 

It was best like this. Just the two of you, away from everyone else. Some nights, the two of you hadn’t even needed a book to bond over. You’d just gaze at stars, or indulge in whatever weed he’d brought along with him. He never pressured you, though – if you shook your head at his offer of the joint, that was that. He seemed to apply that to most aspects of your friendship this last year. 

You never had to prove anything to him. He saw your worth as if it were glaringly obvious, as if it were as simple of a concept as breathing. No extra effort needed from your end. 

Just by being, you had managed to become something important to him. He needed you, if only because you were you. 

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me,” he snorted, shifting so that his shoulder pressed against your own. A warmth spreads from the point of contact. “Let the master show you how it’s done.” 

You tried to not let it show, but your grin was radiant. He was the master at those ridiculous voices, at theatrics and at bringing the story to life. You were transported from the shore of Lover’s Lake, in the back of that stuffy yet comforting van, to meadows of soft grass and hobbit holes of comfort. To a place where all the threats were mythical and all the expectations of you were released. 

You’d spent the week helping Steve finish up his college plans. His parents had tried to pressure him into picking his top three universities, but the moment he had confided in you that he might prefer a community college to begin, you’d held his hand as you guided him through the process. A rewarding process, have no doubt, but it had left you numb and reeling. Sharing someone else’s stress, shouldering their burdens – it had been a bit much.

You needed this. You needed Eddie’s ridiculous voices and the sharp press of his shoulder against your temple. 

“Falling asleep on me already?” he teased when he’d noticed how quiet you had gone. 

“Never,” you lied through a yawn that quickly exposed you. 

“Liar,” he huffed. You didn’t even need to glance up to confirm the smile you knew he wore. “We can head back home, if you need. I know it’s getting late-”

“No,” you quickly sat up, effectively making yourself dizzy, “No, I- It’s fine. I’m awake. I swear.”

“It’s okay that you were falling asleep,” he was quick to reach out, to tug you back down to his side, wrapping his arm around you to press you even closer than before, “I just don’t want to keep Cinderella out past Midnight.” 

“It’s barely ten.” 

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he scowled as you pressed your grin against his t-shirt clad shoulder, “I’m serious, though. Do I need to take you home?”

“No, Eddie. I’m good.”

“Swear it? Swear you don’t have an early shift, or some… some obligation?” 

“No shifts, no obligations.” 

“And if I just kidnap you for the weekend? Am I going to have an angry mob at my doorstep, demanding your service?” 

You smiled wider at the thought. The idea of him hiding you away, letting you live in this reprieve for the entire weekend. It was a nice thought, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.” 

And so the two of you sat there like that for an hour more. Eddie coming up with ridiculous tones for the various characters, you slipping in and out of consciousness as his warmth stayed wrapped around him. You don’t even notice when the warmth he’d planted in you finally covers up that hole inside of you, not even missing the absence of that emptiness until Eddie went quiet.

In the silence, you noticed it. 

The gash you’d grown accustomed to, the hole that had become an extra limb for you. Vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

It was a sudden and terrifying realization. Everything in you urged you to jump up, to scramble around you to find the darkness again, like a comfort blanket you couldn’t stand to lose. You went against the instinct, though, and rose slowly from Eddie’s hold. 

In lieu of scrambling, you peered at Eddie curiously. “Hey, Eds. Can I ask you something?” 

He nodded sleepily, almost as drowsy as you. You’re shocked when he shifts and instead of pulling you back to him, he opted to lay his head in your lap. 

That hole was still gone. The weight of his head on your thighs, the feeling of his breath on your bare thigh. For a moment, you can’t breathe. 

You’re warm. Not uncomfortably so, but encapsulated with an internal warmth. Like a fever spreading, the ice in your spine that you had lived with for years had begun to thaw. 

“Why do you keep me around?” you whispered, still sitting stiffly, staring in awe down at the way he just nuzzled his face into your lap.

With his eyes still closed, face smooth from any worry from the question, he mumbled, “What do you mean?” 

You only hesitated due to the thought crossing your mind; what if you bringing this up reminds him? 

You thought back to the night in Harrington’s kitchen. The push and the pull, the bloody battle and the way he still called.

He was not as delicate as you took him for. 

“I- What do you get out of this?” you couldn’t figure out how to phrase it correctly. You knew what you got out of this, but what does he get? 

“Get out of what?” 

“Get out of keeping me around.”

His eyes finally opened, twisting in your lap so that he could stare up at you. “You say that as if you’re forcing me to be your friend.” 

I could be, that nagging voice in your mind whispered. You could very well be forcing him, and just be blinded because you were enjoying the summer of warmth that he carried with him too much to let him go. 

“You never let me do anything for you,” you sighed, fingers finding themselves tangled in his roots against better judgment. But you needed to touch him, to ground yourself, as you admitted this hard truth, “You do shit for me all the time. You drive all the way out to this lake just because I complain about everything being too much. You’ve started playing chauffeur for the kids to give me a break. Harrington said you even offered to look at college brochures with him. And…. And I’m not stupid, Eds,” your voice shook as you looked down at him, a sudden feeling of undeserving striking you in your chest, “You do so much for me lately. And you don’t ask for anything in return – you don’t let me do anything in return. Why?”

His smile twisted with a hint of sadness, and brown eyes met your gaze without so much as flinching, “Sweetheart, why do you think you have to repay me for that stuff?”

“I-”

“No, hear me out,” he reached up, taking your hand out of his hair and lacing his fingers with yours, slowly dragging it down to rest on his sternum, “I chose to do that stuff. And, yeah, maybe I was trying to take some of that shit off your plate. But you didn’t ask me to. I chose to. I wanted to do those things, do nice things for you, because you won’t let anyone else.” 

You bit back a scoff, “I let people do nice things for me-”

“You really don’t,” his hold on your hand tightened, “You really, really don’t. You constantly…. You just, you take care of everyone else, but you act afraid to let someone take care of you. People are allowed to take care of you, too, y’know? You should let them. They love you – they want to take care of you, just like you take care of them.” 

They love you. 

The air drained from your lungs in a slow, silent sigh. You waited a few minutes, but the oxygen never replenished as you tried to grasp his words. 

They love you. 

Why would they love me? 

“Why wouldn’t they love you, sweetheart?” Eddie looked more concerned now, suddenly prepared to sit up and remove his head for your lap. But his hand still held yours tightly, still clung to you, “You know they love you, right? God, you gotta know that. We all love you.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken the bitter thought out loud until he looked at you, utterly heartbroken, in complete disbelief. “I…”

No. I don’t know that. What have I done to deserve their love? 

“They need me, sure,” you started, narrowing your eyes at the breaks in the waves of Lover’s Lake, “I mean, I just try to make myself useful to them. It’s the least I can do when I… when they…” you struggled to get the words out. You saw that hole again, like a light at the end of the tunnel, but so far from the relief most mean by that metaphor. Something peeking around the corner, ready to devour you all over again. So you plunged, you prepared yourself for it to spring to life and take you whole as you nearly whimpered, “When they put up with me. It’s the least I can do when they put up with me.” 

“No one puts up with you,” Eddie’s voice cracked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Least of all me.” 

The deadliest of blows. He cracked your hardened surface with that, shook the foundations of every belief you’d held for eternity. 

“Most of all you,” you corrected without thinking, “God, I- Eddie, seriously. What reason do you have for keeping me around? I don’t know how the fuck you put up with m-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you’d never heard him beg so painfully before then, “Please. Don’t… You want to know my reason?” you nodded numbly, finally looking to find him with wet eyes and lips pressed into a fine line, “Because you’re you. I… Fuck, I love you. I keep you around because you’re you. You’re good for me. Whether you believe it or not. You’re good for me just by being you, and there’s nothing you have to do to accomplish that,” you started to look away before he grabbed your cheeks, turning you to face him as he emphasized each word, “You don’t have to earn love. That’s not what love is. Got it?” 

You looked into his eyes, and saw all the soft declarations of love echoed back to you, even from the very start. 

‘Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.’

‘The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.’

The entire time you’d been so worried about taking care of everyone else, he’d been worried about taking care of you. Endless late night phone calls, careful check-ins when he saw the exhaustion take the frontlines, sparse fights about putting yourself first. The only thing he ever wanted from you was for you to take care of yourself. 

While you were busy being there for everyone else, he was busy being there for you. 

He never once made you dig to the bottom of his grave to find the warmth. He’d handed it over on a silver platter. 

So how could you look him in his at that moment, and tell him that you didn’t ‘get it’? That you’d never been sure if what you were seeking from your friends was really love? That, really, you’d given up on being loved a long time ago, assuming it was asking too much? 

How do you look him in his eyes in that moment and tell him you had long since declared yourself unlovable? 

He didn’t make you say it. Only kept your cheeks pressed between his palms, as he leaned forward, forehead meeting yours and whispering words for only you, “I love you, no strings attached. You’re my… friend. I love you. Okay?”  

No one had ever fought so valiantly to get the point across. Not just that night at the lake, but in the entirety of his friendship with you. 

The hole slinked back behind the corner. The darkness decided it could wait another day. And in its place, warm brown eyes filled the void. Whether he even realized it or not. 

You nearly believed him. Nearly. But you bit down hard on that belief, throwing it out of sight, and instead of echoing back the ‘okay’ you assumed he was seeking out, all you did was sob out another, “Why?” 

When you collapsed into him, he held you. Your sobs remained dry, your confusion palpable as you clung to him and tried to let that belief envelope you like his arms had. 

I love you. 

How could someone love you? 

He didn’t press it the way you thought he would. He didn’t scold you for continuing to question him and he didn’t lash out at your disbelief. 

He just held you. Letting your face press into his neck as his fingers ran up and down your spine, giving it a moment before he started talking again. 

“Your humor,” he hummed after a couple moments of silence, heavy breathing eventually evening out. 

“What?”

“The way you take care of others,” he continued on like he hadn’t heard you, “That spark you get in your eyes when you tell someone about something good. A favorite book, movie, story from your day – whatever it is. The way you give the best hugs – and you don’t give me them nearly often enough. The way you snore, and the way you definitely deny snoring.” 

You opened your mouth, about to lift your head and argue with him, but he just placed an encouraging palm on the back of your head to keep you close to him. 

“The way your favorite color changes with the seasons. The way you only like artificial cherry flavoring, not the real stuff. The way you look at night when we’re driving and you’re just screaming your favorite lyrics. The way you look at me to see if a joke lands. The way you fuss about my wrinkled clothes, even when you also don’t care about the wrinkles in your own shirts. The way you take your coffee. The way you always offer to paint one of my nails to match yours. The way you treat your recipe for chocolate chip cookies like some top secret, government trade. But we both know it’s just some recipe from a cookbook you thrifted when you were ten. The way you get excited over the small things, like the cows we pass by on the way out here. They're always there, and you always point them out. The way you just… are.” 

He didn’t have to say it. He was answering your question. 

He was listing his whys. 

“You don’t have to earn it,” he didn’t say the word, not this time. You felt it, “It just… it’s there. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.” 

Loved. For the first time ever, it felt like a possibility; to be loved. 

Eddie always knocks on your front door a certain way – a pattern he rarely strays from. But you can always tell. He’s the only fool who would find humor in knocking out such an annoying compilation of hits on the wooden panels until you finally unlatch the lock and open it to find him standing in your threshold. 

His hair is frizzy and in a low ponytail, wearing a baggy band shirt and plaid pajama pants. He greets you with such a wide smile, your chest aches. 

“Hey there, sweetness.” 

You don’t say a word, just drag him inside before you wrap your arms around his waist. Ever since that night, and his admittance of enjoying your hugs, you made a conscious effort to hug him more often. 

“Miss me?” he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek as you softly pinch his side. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him only laugh harder once you pull away. 

“Not at all,” you snark back as you make sure the door is securely shut and properly locked.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.” 

He smacks a fist to his chest as if you had stabbed him with your words, “Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.” 

“Get over it,” you tease. Your head has finally stopped swimming, your chest no longer tight with the fear of not being enough. Nancy is long forgotten as you say, “Have you eaten dinner?” 

“Depends,” he hums as he toes off his boots, “If you’re offering to buy me some, then no, I definitely did not eat spaghetti with Wayne right before you called.” 

You throw your head back laughing as he’s already making a beeline for your kitchen, digging out that damned takeout menu and reaching for the phone, already so sure of your order.

Knowing your order at restaurants. Without having to ask. Apparently, that was part of the whole ‘being loved’ gig. 

Adjusting has taken months. Since that night in Eddie’s van, he’d kept his word. Not a day went by without him finding a way to remind you, whether it be by direct words or small actions, that he loved you. You both kept it under that friendly guise. He loved you in that familiar way, the way the others supposedly loved you. A way you could manage to recognize some days. 

Other days were still rough. Days like today were still rough. 

The takeout is ordered and Eddie sets up camp on your couch, rambling about something that had happened during one of the DnD nights he still hosted with the kids. Something about a dumb decision Mike did that cost most of the group their character’s lives. You have a hard time following along, and he’s quick to pick up on it. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you lean into the back couch cushion, smooshing your cheek as you watched him animatedly speak.

“Hm?”

“Bad day?” 

He never judged you for the rough days. He never judged you for the days you still couldn’t find the love, even after he worked so virtuously to show it to you. He may never understand it, that hollow ache that resided in your darkest corners and whispered that none of it was real, but it never deterred him.

He loved you on good days, and he especially loved you on bad days. 

You consider lying to him, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you so earnestly, “Yeah. It… yeah.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks you, shuffling to be more comfortable where he sits as he motions for you to lay down. You do so immediately, head finding a home against his thigh and his fingers stroking over your cheek before they toy with the ends of your hair. 

All you can do is shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about that fear of failing Nancy as a friend, especially when you know that wasn’t her take away from it. It felt silly now; all that overthinking, when you know now if you questioned her on it, all she would have seen from the day was a friend lending a caring ear. You know because you had asked her about it once, if she found your listening habits too callous, upon Eddie’s insistence. 

She hadn’t. In fact, all she could do was thank you, had insisted that she was just grateful someone would listen to her ramblings. And you understood that, left it at that. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, voice so quiet you nearly miss it. His fingers continue to play across your shoulders now, barely weighted against bare skin, “That’s fine.” 

He didn’t mind if you didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t mind if you never spoke another word, if all you needed was him here. You just needed him close by and to sit with you, to make it all a little less much. 

Nothing. He needed absolutely nothing from you, asked nothing of you. Because you didn’t have to earn this. All you had to do was simply be, and he would provide this. 

Love. What an odd concept, to have found warmth in a grave you never even got the chance to dig your shovel into. 

“Hey, Eddie?” his fingers pause at your croaking voice. You smile at his stillness, at the way he hums carefully in response, still trying to offer the silence you quietly begged for, “I love you.” 

There’s more to unpack there. More than just familial love, more than just two friends that love each other without conditions. But tonight is not the night, and you both see that it is enough. There will be other nights to dig your claws in and to dissect what those three little words mean between you two. There will be other nights to consider how your other friends don’t have a permanent spare toothbrush on your bathroom counter or a space for their takeout in your fridge. But not tonight.

For tonight, this was enough. The quiet, and the warmth, the being was enough. 

“I love you,” he emphasizes the last word, leaning down and his lips grazing your temple. 

You notice the way he leaves off the too. He’d love you, even if you didn’t love him. You’d love him, even if he didn’t love you. Unconditional, no strings attached. A warmth you do not have to fight to earn. A rarity you never encountered before, and may never encounter again, but you have for tonight and for as long as he chooses to stick around. 

Your shovel sits abandoned in a shed in the distance. Your fingernails are clean of the dirt. The graveyard, it seems, would go another night without its robber. 

[bebravedearheart]

mergwaine + 48, for that ship+number prompt!

This has made me so happy! Sorry it's taken me so long, life has been busy, but I hope you like it!

Merwaine kiss ...out of habit

As first meetings went, theirs made for a good story at least. Although, when Gwaine told it he would of course add more heroics on his part, and leave out the fact he was unconscious with a knife embedded in his thigh.

He'd been grateful to Merlin since then, and Merlin had patched up far more scrapes and cuts since then, though luckily none as serious. Each time he'd woken in Merlin's cot in the anteroom of the physician's chambers he'd wanted to smile and flirt and show his appreciation, but he could never quite bring himself to. He feared ruining their friendship, couldn't bear it if Merlin turned away, or tried to say something to make him feel better in that awkward, endearing way of his.

Gwaine had never had a true friend before, and he valued it beyond measure. He took care to check in with Merlin when he looked glum, really listened to everything Merlin told him and felt chastised in a way he was not used to when Merlin was disappointed with him.

Merlin for his part seemed to be able to see through Gwaine; to pick apart his glib remarks when asked how he was. Gwaine hated it, and was more thankful for it than he could say.

And gods he wanted Merlin. Not just for a tumble. To wake up with each morning and kiss softly in the dawn. To fall asleep wrapped around, bodies entwined into one entity. To whisper in the dark all he couldn't say out loud when he was being looked at.

He would not breathe a word of this to anyone, of course. Merlin deserved far better than him, deserved someone beautiful, someone who knew how to say the right thing, someone who didn't cause so much trouble--even if Merlin didn't mind that.

To celebrate the King's coronation a feast was thrown--the first in many months; Arthur had been too preoccupied with his duties as regent and worrying about his father to keep up with anything more than the bare minimum of the courtly calendar. Now though, he seemed freer, like the shadow of anticipation was no longer weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Merlin was invited as a guest, not a servant. Gwaine grinned at that news, clapped him on the shoulder and told Merlin he'd have to come and borrow something nice to wear (though added that Merlin was the only person he knew who looked good in rags).

Merlin declined his offer with a laugh, giving him a playful shove and telling him Gwen had it well in hand.

Gwaine did not think a great deal of it, standing between Leon and Percival in the hall when the celebration came around with is customary cup of wine--sweeter than the usual vinegary swill they were served but still somehow better than the ale. He glanced up as the door opened to admit a latecomer, almost dropping the goblet. He saved himself from embarrassment, though he did not take his eyes of Merlin as he walked in with all the regal bearing of a man born to nobility. He wore an unspoiled white linen tunic, over which there was a jacket in pale green silk, belted at the waist and flaring out at the hips, falling to mid-thigh. On his legs Merlin wore deep, forest green breeches in velvet, fitting tightly to accentuate his slender legs. His hair was oiled back, smoothed and swept back from his head, far from its usual wild waves.

Gwaine was not the only one unable to tear away his gaze but he was the first to reach Merlin, bowing low. His noble manners came easily; old habits die hard, as they said. Gwaine did not think twice about taking Merlin's delicate hand in one of his own--too rough, calloused palms--and pressing a kiss to the back of it as if he were a lady. He heard Merlin's sharp intake of breath at his surprise and straightened up, catching a glimpse of the pink tinge high on Merlin's sharp cheekbones. With his usual grin, Gwaine snatched another goblet of wine from the tray of a passing servant and downed it without pausing for breath before he pulled Merlin in by the collar of his ridiculous coat and kissed him properly; deep and filthy. Old habits died hard, after all.

When they broke apart, Gwaine made to leave, to go and find something else to drink, someone else to bed to avoid any awkward conversation beginning with the words "I'm flattered but..." He got no further than a single pace when a hand curled around his wrist to stop him, pulling him back into a much gentler kiss. Merlin tasted of spices and smelled of herbs. "You scrub up well," Gwaine said against Merlin's lips. "And you had manners hiding somewhere."

[zeenmrala]

━  A SLICE OF THE NIGHT ♡

pairing: oc x oc / mimi mirage x indika promia  rating: mature, 18+ only  word count: 2.6k song: cologne, beabadoobee summary: popstar mimi mirage and bounty hunter indika promia take their friendship to the next level when they share their first kiss a/n: space lesbians have been all i can think about this pride month. i’ve been collaborating with my dear friend @pumpkinmischief who created indika and the art for this. we’ve crafted a tragically beautiful queer love story between our two star wars original characters. you can view the artwork that accompanies this little fic here, it’s a stunning piece inspired by the classic lesbian make up meme lol. ily piper, you are an incredible artist and i’m so grateful to know you.

“i’m not done yet, please kiss my neck”

Everybody in the core worlds knows that Coruscant never sleeps. However, there are a few short hours deep into the night when the metropolis-planet is lulled, and it seems to briefly doze in a disturbed half-slumber. It is during these hours when the sounds of traffic lapse for long enough that it can justifiably be described as quiet, when the bustling crowds disperse into such sparsity that the streets can be considered deserted. The world itself slows down, and for two young women this slice of the night is theirs, and theirs alone. They sit at the window of an apartment in the high mid-levels, looking up and across a vast dreaming city as they drink, smoke and reflect. Their girlish laughter echoes between the towering buildings. 

It’s an infinitely better view at the window, because Mimi Mirage’s new apartment is a total mess. There are boxes everywhere, half of the walls glow a soft glitter pink, and the rest remain a bland grey, the painting and decorating left unfinished. Empty bottles litter all available surfaces of the kitchen-lounge, and there are clothes and beauty products strewn about the floor. There are trunks overflowing with pink garments, headpieces, heels and jewellery. Half built furniture is dotted around the rooms, the effort to construct them left abandoned.

Mimi hasn’t had a chance to unpack or finish decorating, because she is hardly ever here, and because she is exhausted. Her rise in popularity correlates with a rise in bookings, appearances and performances, and she has danced, sung and charmed her way through five sets in two days. She has finally come home to her apartment, bringing her best friend Indika Promia with her. The two of them are lounging in the small window, smoking tabac cigarettes, drinking and winding down from a few very intense nights on the Coruscant scene. The pair always look forward to debriefing in these dreamscape hours of the night alone together, and it isn’t the first time Indika has stayed the night. But something feels different tonight, as though the spark between them is flaring, burning brighter than ever before.

“I seriously don’t know how I stopped myself from killing that handsy Iktotchi guy,” Indika scoffs as she shakes her head. She pours herself a small glass of Spotchka from a bottle at her side, then takes a drag from her cigarette, the amber glow of it illuminating her pale, tattooed face. 

“Oh my Stars,” Mimi giggles as she recalls the man in question, swatting Indika playfully. “You didn’t need to! There is no way he is ever coming to one of my shows again. You scared him to death.”

“Good,” Indika says. “He was a total asshole.”

“He really was.” She tries to take a toke of her cigarette but notices that it’s gone out, so relights it. “His friends were all super weird too.” 

“How does someone as pretty as you attract such sleemos like him?”

“Awh, I dunno.” Mimi shrugs. “It’s not so bad though. You’re here after all.”

Indika smirks, the cig hanging lazily at the corner of her lips. “Good one, dumbass.”

Mimi cackles and sips at her drink that definitely isn’t Spotchka, but her own personal take on a Coruscant Cooler - the classic cocktail made a little sweeter, and a lot pinker. 

“Indi you glared at him like a feral Rancor and I totally thought he was gonna kark his ugly-ass pants. I just know he saw his life flash before his eyes when you grabbed him.” She finishes and stubs out her cig, shakes out her lekku behind her and giggles.

“If I ever see him again it’s on sight,” Indika grumbles before draining her glass and flicking the stub of her cig out of the window. “These bastards need to learn to keep their hands to themselves. I don’t care how many bones I have to break to get the message across.”

Mimi snickers and drops to her feet, offering her hand to help the shorter woman down from the window. Indika accepts as Mimi says, “So true. Are we in the double digits yet?”

“Easily. My last bone-break count was 32. Mainly fingers though.” 

They both laugh playfully, but then there is a slight pause as they notice that their hands are still clasped. 

“Thank you for protecting me.” Mimi smiles softly. “Like, seriously. I love having you around, Indi.”

“You got it sweetheart.” Indika has a curt smirk on her face again. She nods, and then squeezes Mimi’s fingers. “I love being around you too.”

Indika then releases her to grab her bottle of Spotchka and pours what remains of the glowing blue liquid into her glass. She looks up at Mimi, who is sneering at the drink in Indika’s pale hands.

“I can’t believe you brought that foul shit into my apartment.” She stretches her arms above her head dramatically as she groans. “It’s so gross.”

“Alright booze police,” Indika says dryly, then drains her glass in one go, and slams it upside down on a box to her left. “There, it’s all gone.”

“Smartass.” Mimi folds her arms. “You’re such a stereotype, my little bounty hunter.”

Indika wipes her mouth with her wrist and winks. “Shut up. You love it."

She flashes Mimi a grin and then slips past her to the refresher and Mimi follows her. She leans in the doorway and as she watches Indika wash her face, she rants about how early she has to get up in the morning to attend a meeting with a potential sponsor. Then as Indika begins to dry herself with a towel, Mimi pauses.

“Wait, how have I never seen you without make-up before?” she asks, her heart skipping at the realisation, taking in the raw beauty of Indika’s bare skin as she appears from beneath the towel. She hides her awe by scrunching up her face and jokingly says, “Oh Gods, I hate it.”

“You little bitch,” Indika chuckles and throws the towel at her. 

Mimi dodges it and screeches. “Eek! I’m kidding, I promise!”

Indika rolls her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with that mean Pantoran friend of yours."

Mimi nods and scoffs. "You're probably right. She's busting my ass."

"...Is she a problem?" asks Indika rather seriously. 

"Champagne?" Mimi shakes her head, checking herself out in the mirror. "Nah, she just works too hard and worries too much."

Indika rolls her eyes as if to say yeah right, and Mimi playfully pushes her shoulder. "Don't be so protective. She's fine. You don't have to worry your pretty little horns over Montana." 

Indika's lips curve into a smile, and Mimi pecks her cheek with an exaggerated Mwah! then grabs her toothbrush. Indika picks up her own, then raises her finger at Mimi, indicating for her to wait, and as the Twi’lek raises a brow in confusion, Indika pulls out and taps on her datapad, blasting one of Mimi’s party tracks. The two snort and laugh, and begin to dance around each other, impish and drunk as they brush their teeth, giggling and bumping into one another to the music. At one point, Indika trips over and lands clumsily on her ass, and Mimi almost wets herself from laughing when she helps her back to her feet. After they have brushed their teeth, Mimi watches as Indika undoes and then replaits her braids, telling Mimi about where her next job is likely going to be.

In a moment of silence, Mimi compliments her. “You are so stunning, Indi.” 

Indika looks at her curiously, and then softly smirks at Mimi’s sincerity. 

“You do know that I think you are the most beautiful person in the galaxy, right?” the Twi’lek continues with a sultry air, leaning closer into her. She runs her pink hand down Indika’s braid, then trails it up to her jawline, and ghosts her index finger across the length of her facial tattoo. She then tucks a piece of hair that hangs across her eyes behind her long, elegant ear. Mimi tilts her head slightly, observing her hands on Indika’s face. “I like how my skin looks on yours.”

Indika’s mouth falls slightly open in disbelief, and she looks up at Mimi with a mix of adoration and anticipation. “You really think pink’s my colour?”

“Yeah, actually. I really like pink on you,” she rests her hand on Indika’s shoulder, then drags her fingers across the exposed skin of her chest, debating whether or not to give into her desires and dip into the softness of her cleavage. “Well, my pink anyway.” 

Indika’s hands have come to rest on Mimi’s waist during this interaction, and her purple nails tease at her soft skin. She notices Mimi’s soft gasp at the contact, and begins to lower her fingers. 

She wants to feel those hips: the hips she has watched Mimi sway night after night beneath bright pink lights. She wants to caress the dips at the top of her legs that flash from beneath her skirts when she dances. The warmth of those thighs…

Indika’s thoughts are interrupted when she notices Mimi’s face lighting up, and she knows at once that the pop-star has had one of her ideas.

“What are you thinking, Mimi?” 

She looks like she is about to burst with excitement. "I want to do your make-up."

“My make-up?”

“Yes!” She claps her hands. “Let me do a pink look on you."

“But I just took mine off.”

“So?”

She smiles. Though she wasn't expecting this tonight, Indika is rather intrigued at seeing one of Mimi’s iconic looks on herself. It could be fun. But what really sells her is being up close and personal with Mimi, her fingers on her skin, her breath on her face.

“Of course, Mi. Do my make-up.”

“Let’s get more comfortable,” Mimi exclaims in victory, as she takes Indika’s hand and pulls her into her bedroom, the contents of which is a just mattress on the ground surrounded by more beauty products, clothes and jewellery. She encourages Indika to lie down on her back, as Mimi scurries around the room grabbing the tools to work her magic.

Mimi climbs on top of Indika, her legs either side of the smaller hybrid’s hips. The skin of their legs touch, the two wearing a mix of their undergarments, clothes and sleepwear. Indika feels Mimi squeeze her between her thighs, and a rush of heat caresses her spine.

“Close your eyes,” Mimi instructs with a whisper, and Indika does, her heart beginning to race as she senses Mimi close to her face. She is attentive to the gentle movements of Mimi’s fingers and the make up brush she uses, appreciating how soothing it feels as she begins to softly work the pink makeup across the pale skin of her eyelid. 

Mimi then notices the tender caress of Indika’s palm on her leg, and gasps as subtly as she can, the softness of Indika’s fingers triggering a swarm of warmth beneath her pierced belly button. Mimi tries to ignore her sudden and vibrant desires, and begins applying the make-up to Indika’s other eye. But the heat remains, and she is distracted enough that she accidentally flicks some neon pink make-up on Indika’s forehead. 

“Oops,” Mimi says with a giggle, wiping away the excess eyeshadow she spilled across Indika’s eyebrow with her thumb. She moves a piece of Indika’s hair aside, slightly brushing against the base of her right horn. Indika takes a sharp breath in, the softness of Mimi’s fingers there causing her to thrum with equal parts heat and weightlessness.

Indika’s eyes flutter open, her violet eyes irises now gazing up at the Twi’lek mounting her. Mimi looks back down at her in awe, her lekku resting in front of her shoulders. She is relishing in the touch of the hybrid’s hands on her skin, the warmth of her palm, the dexterity of her fingers. She wants to tell her to keep going, lower, lower, lower…

“You’re so pretty, Mimi,” Indika whispers, the sweet words are heartfelt, sincere. Her hand begins to slowly trace upwards, lingering at Mimi’s hip, tracing the waistband of her shorts. Mimi holds her breath and blinks softly, the tension between them charged and thick, brimming with intimacy. Her heart beats wildly in her chest, her insides fluttering with lightness. She smirks through her nervous anticipation, a sultry smile painting her pink lips as her desire for the woman beneath her soars. She tosses aside the make-up brush and leans further forward, her arms resting either side of Indika's face.

“Do you really think so?” she asks coyly, hopefully.

“Yes,” Indika says. Her lavender gaze washes across the Twi’leks face as her fingers trail back down to squeeze the softness of Mimi’s upper thigh. A charged pause, and then:

“Kiss me, Mimi.”

Mimi whimpers softly as her suspicions are confirmed, and is enthralled to be able to finally kiss her best friend. She shuts her vibrant eyes and leans closer, ghosting her lips on Indika’s. She kisses her softly at first, and Indika inhales, her hands gripping Mimi tighter, sliding up from her legs to her hips and waist. She shifts upwards, taking control of the kiss and deepening it, slipping her tongue into Mimi’s mouth. They both moan, the kiss a sweet relief from the beautifully taught tension that has been brewing for too long between them.

Indika suddenly breaks the kiss, and Mimi whimpers at the loss. Then she swiftly flips the two of them around, so that Indika is on top of her. Mimi gasps as she slides her leg between her thighs, and Indi groans as she feels the warmth of her lover through her shorts. Mimi sighs at the flare of lust unfurling in her lower back, and her legs open further of their own accord, inviting Indika into her, desperate for her touch.

“Indika…” she mutters between kisses and moans, her hybrid lover grinding her upper leg into Mimi’s heat. “You want me?”

“I want you,” Indika confirms, pulling back to look at her. She’s so glorious beneath her, with her light blue eyes sparkling in lust, the remnants of silver make-up glittering on her skin, her lips plump and glistening from Indika’s kisses. Indi glides her palms down Mimi’s lekku, which make her shiver and writhe in heated despair beneath her. “Let me show you just how much I want you, pretty girl.” She teases a finger at Mimi’s mouth, lightly pulling at her bottom lip. 

“Please,” Mimi begs. Indika indulges her, pouncing on her and planting hot, wet kisses on her neck, trailing her hungry lips down her lean body. When she reaches her chest, she helps Mimi sit up so she can peel off her shirt, freeing her perk, pink breasts. She circles her small nipples with her tongue, flicking her piercing against the sensitive flesh. Mimi groans, arching her back and pushing her breast further into her lover's mouth. Indika begins to suck on her nipple, which leads into licking and lapping at both of her breasts. She trails her tongue and teeth up to Mimi's neck, nipping and marking her skin with the depth of her desire.

Indika is enlightened at the taste of her skin, sweetened by the remnant scent of her floral perfume. She nudges her thin nose against the base of Mimi's sensitive lekku, and purrs when she feels Mimi become undone beneath her.

"More," Mimi whimpers, needy, desperate. "I need so much more of you, Indi."

"I'll give you whatever you want," Indika promises. "I'm going to make those pretty lips sing for me, Mimi."

Mimi hums in satisfaction, and the two of them indulge in one another, exploring the blossoming sweetness of their bodies for the first time, truly making the night their own with decadent kisses, wild hands and dripping lust.

-

tagging some friends in case u r interested: @stardustbee @kimageddon @sinisterexaggerator​ @frogunderarock​ @grinningnexu​

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1179: Valentine's Office Party (Persona 5 X Sonic)

7:34 p.m. at G.U.N.'s Main Hall Entrance........

Everyone: (Chattering Among One Another Inside)

Sae: (Takes a Sip of her Cup of Punch She's Holding in her Hands) So you had to finish off two and a half mountain sets of paperwork then helped set up this party together immediately after? That couldn't be pleasant.

Topaz: ('Sigh') Not in the slightest.....We're still very short on accountants and the ones we have left took an early leave for the day. (Rolls her Eyes in Annoyance) So, of course, they decided take me away from my line of work and made me doing theirs instead, without even a single thank you coming out from any of their mouths!

Sae: ('Sigh') I feel your pain on that one, sister. I swear, I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times my superiors drop those sets of paperwork on my desk since the day I started my career of being a prosecutor. And now it's Tae-san's turnn to deal a few of own unfortunately.

Topaz: (Raises an Eyebrow in a Bit Of Confusion) Tae-san?

Sae: Tae Takemi. She's a back alley doctor in the streets of Shiyuba from where I'm also from.....(Starts Blushing a Bit) As....well as my girlfriend~

Topaz: ('Gasps') Oh my gosh, really?~ For how long If you don't me asking.

Sae: A few months now. She can be a real weirdo sometimes, but.....(Smiles a Bit) She's my weirdo. I do anything for her, so long as it legal.

Topaz: (Clasps her Hands Together Lovingly) Awwwwww!~ That's so sweet, congratulations, both of you!~

Sae: (Simply Nodded at the GUN Operative) Thanks. It's been a long while since I've been into an actual relationship, so I'm not exactly as well experienced in romance as she is surprisingly.

Topaz: Give it some time, dear. I'm sure you'll get back in the swing of things eventually. (Continues Talking to Sae)

..............................................................................

Rouge: (Sighs Happily as Watches Topaz and Sae in the Distance Along with Morgana abd Lavenza) Look at them~ Two workaholics getting along in harmony~

Lavenza: (Smiles Softly) It's nice to see them having a good time this evening

Rouge: Yeah, Topaz especially. That woman been doing everyone else's work all day today with little to no break. She deserves to let loose every once and a while.

Morgana: (Turns to Rouge) How did you guys first meet anyways?

Rouge: Back in some factory a few years ago. Before I started my agent career, I was just your run of the mil jewelry thief 'till the day she caught me red-handed and took me into this very base.

Morgana: Where you two became partners?

Rouge: (Winks at Mona) Ding-Ding~ We didn't quite get along right off the bat mind you, used to butt heads a lot more than we do nowadays actually. (Smiles Softly) But eventually, once we put our pettiness aside and get every mission we get assigned to done, our friendship has been all the more sweeter ever since.

Lavenza: Ooh! Speaking of sweets, Mona-Chan~ (Smiles Brightly at her Boyfriend) I got a marvelous Valentine's Day present for you to enjoy!~ (Summons a Red, Heart Shaped Box on the Palm of her Hands)

Morgana: (Gasps a Tad Bit Loudly as He Place Both of his Hands onto his Cheeks) You got me a box of chocolate?~

Lavenza: (Giggles Softly at How Cute Mona is Acting) Better~ I took the liberties to make you a box of chocolate, in hand!~ (Smiles Sheepishly) They might not be the most.....delectable sets, taste wise, but please know that I've put my very soul into making them the best I can.

Morgana: (Smiles Brightly) And I'm sure I'll love them as much as I love you~

Rouge: (Clasps her Hands Together in Pure Delight) Oh my gosh, you two are the most cutest things in the ball!~

Morgana: Pretty sure it's just a regular party, Ms. Rouge.

Rouge: (Shrugs a Bit) Party, Ball, same thing really. Say, do you mind if I have a piece of that chocolate of yours as well? I hardly gotten anything good to eat since I got here.

Lavenza: Of course you can, Ms. Rouge. (Starts Getting a Bit Panicky) B-But please proceed with cation, you two! The chocolates are-

Rouge: (Examines the Chocolates Inside an Now Opened Box) Hmmm......They don't seem to be looking too appealing design wise.

Morgana: Looks aren't everything so long as it taste good.

Mona and Rouge takes one of the chocolates out of the box and eats their respective piece......Only for their to be widened as Rouge takes out a pink handkerchief from her pocketbook and spits out thr chocolate she was eating before passing it to Mona for him to do the same.

Lavenza: ('Sigh') Not if the chocolates are salty.....I knew I should've read that cookbook more thoroughly instead of rushing myself to get these made before the party started.....

Morgana: (Closes the Box Before Gently Placing his Hand Onto Lavenza Shoulder With a Reassuring Smile) Hey, don't let it get you down. I'm sure you'll have them more tasty next time.

Rouge: (Place her Hand on her Chest With a Proud Smile on her Face) And I will be more than happy to assist you along the way, my dear~

Morgana: (Raises an Eyebrow at Rouge) Wait. You can cook? Since when?

Rouge: Started learning a month ago. Not to toot my own horn, but I believe I've gotten quite skillful in the kitchen if I do say so myself~

Shadow: (Walks By While Holding a Punch Drink in his Hand) Rouge, you nearly burned Knuckles' kitchen down weeks ago. You don't need to be teaching those kids anything.

Rouge: (Comically Glares at her Teammate) It was ONE TIME, Shadow! I can do a lot better, thank you!

Shadow: Doubt it.

Rouge: (Blows a Raspberry at Shadow)

Topaz: (From the Other Side of the Room) Rouge! Behave yourself over there.

Rouge: But-

Topaz: Now!

Rouge: (Crosses her Arms While Grumbling and Pouting)

Lavenza: (Giggles Softly) It's okay, Ms Rouge. We can all teach each other how to cook together.

Morgana: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly) While trying not to burn anything down in the process.....

...........................................................................

Omega: (Watches Morgana and Lavenza Trying to Calm Down an Pouting Rouge in the Distance Before Noticing Shadow's Presence) You poked fun at her cooking again?

Shadow: (Casually Shrugs) Just stating the truth like I always do. She did set the stove on fire.

Omega: For approximately 6.6 seconds before I came in and extinguish it from causing the stove to disintegrate completely.

Shadow: True.

Omega: (Gives Shadow a Deadpinned Look on his Face) But that won't stop you from poking at her for it, will it?

Shadow: (Smirks a Bit) Nope. She should've think twice before poking fun at me numerous of times in the past. Now she's paying the price for it. (Takes a Sip of his Drink)

Omega: (Rolls his Visual Sensors Around) Right. Anywho, question.

Shadow: (Points at Omega) Shoot.

Omega: Have you ever encountered a romantic feeling towards someone in the past?

Shadow: Can't say that I have really. Never been too interested in romance in general. What about you, Omega?

Omega: (My His Habd onto his Metal Chest) My crush was previously towards a princess who obtain the pyrokinesis royalty.

Shadow: Pyrokinesis royalt- (Eyes Suddenly Begins to Widened at the Realization) What a minute? You're telling me you used to have a crush on Blaze once?

Omega: (Simply Nodded) Affirmative. (Sticks his Hand Out in a Romantic Type of Way) Her flames shine as bright as bright as the morning sun and are equally as destructive as my rapid-fire cannons. (Slouches his Upper Body Down While Frowning in Disappointment) So you could imagine my immense disappointment when I discovered that she is currently taken by two male partners.

Shadow: Is that right? When did you find that out?

Omega: On the day of Vector and Vanilla's wedding. I spotted them sharing their public affection towards during the reception. They seemed happy and complete together. It was at this moment I realized that the concept of romance has died within my metal soul.....

Shadow: (Place his Hand onto Omega's Shoulder, Giving him a Bit of a Reassuring Smile) Don't give up on it just yet, big guy. I'm sure you'll find someone eventually. (Suddenly Felt Something Covering his Eyes) Omega, is covering my eyes is your way of thanking me or something?

Peach starts giggling quietly along with Hat Kid as she is currently covering her son's eyes from the back.

Omega: Negative.

Hat Kid silently asks Omega to bend down to her height level as she starts whispering into his hearing sensors.

Omega: But I do obtain another question for you to answer.

Shadow: (Feeling the Need to Raise his Eyebrow) Okay.....Ask away.

Omega: Who do you believe is the strongest being in the Smash Bros Family?

Shadow: My mother. She's brave, care, loving, Intimidating when she wants to be, and has shown to risk her life into protecting her love ones numerous of times in the past. (Starts Hearing thr Sound of Sniffing) And judging by the sounds I'm hearing behind me, I'm guessing the person who's been covering my eyes this whole time is her in person?

Peach: (Happily Reveal Herself to Shadow) Yes, it's meeeeeee!~ (Hugs Shadow Lovingly) I'm so happy to have a sweetheart son like you in my life!~

Shadow: (Chuckles Lightly) Nice to see you too, mother.

Hat Kid happily rushes over and Hugs Shadow leg.

Shadow: (Looks Down at his Little Sister Before Gently Ruffling the Top of her Hair) And you as well, sister. Thank you two for coming here tonight.

Peach: You know, we wouldn't miss it for the world. (Kiss Shadow on the Cheek) I'm sorry your father and brother couldn't join us this evening. Sonic had to go out and stop Eggman as usual....(Clasps her Hands Together in a Loving Manner) And father is back home planning a very romantic surprise for me as we speak~

Meanwhile at the Smash Direct Mall......

Mario: (Shows off the Red, Sliky Pants and Jacket Bayonetta Picked Out For Him) I dunno, Cereza. Are you sure Peach would like this outfit I'm wearing?

Bayonetta: (Fprms a Proud Smirk on her Face) Trust me, dear, that princess of yours will be dropping everything and run straight towards you once she sees you in this marvelous get up. Especially since you're quite the charming looking man yourself~

Mario: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly While Blushing a Bit) Thanks, but.......(Starts Squeezing the Side of his Already Revealing Stomach Before Letting Put a Sigh) I think my own body says otherwise......

Bayonetta: (Gives Mario a Pouty Look) Oh don't you give me that. You know as well as I do that Peach adores you no matter of how chubby you look. Hell, my goddess have a slightly bigger belly than yours and I shower it with my love abd affection every waking morning. You'll be fine, my dear, trust me!

Mario: ('Sigh') If you say so.....

Bayonetta: (Smiles Brightly) I know so. Now, hurry up and change back so we can get outta here and get that cake we ordered.

Mario: Yes, ma'am.

Back at the Party

Peach: (Hugs Herself While Swaying her Hips From Side to Side in a Very Loving Manner) Ohh, I can't wait to come back home and shower that handsome man with my undying love!~

Hat Kid: (Sticks her Tongue Out in Disgust) ('Blegh')

Shadow: (Sighs While Facepalming Himself, Being Mildly Embarrassed) Mother........

Omega: (Covers Hat Kid's Ears) T.M.I.!

Peach: (Comically Pouts at the Trio) Oh don't you three give me that! You know how much I adore your father!! (Notices A Familiar Blue Haired Young Man Walking Over Before Putting on a Welcoming Smile Towards Him) Oh, hi Yusuke dear!~ Happy Valentine's Day.

Yusuke: (Happily Nodded Towards the Princess) Likewise, your majesty. (Frowns a Bit) Unfortunately, I can't say that I'm enjoying this evening completely at the moment.

Shadow: Why? What happened?

Omega: And where is Futuba-san?

Peach: (Starts Getting Worried) She's not sick, is she?

Yusuke: No, she's here and well, your majesty. (Grabs his Chin While Thinking) But.....('Sigh') She told she has to step out for a second, but it's been fifteen minutes and I'm starting to get worried. I'm planning on looking for her as we speak.

Shadow: You won't be the only to do so.

Peach: We'll help look for her too, dear.

Omega: And I will make a clear announcement on the matter in the main office.

Hat Kid: (Puts on a Determined Look on her Face) Me too!

Shadow: Omega, you know you're not allowed to go in there.

Peach: (Gives Hat Kid a Soft Motherly Glare) The same goes for you, young lady. We're guest here. It would be very rude of you to go into that room without permission.

Omega: (Glares at Shadow and Peach as He Helps Pick Hat Kid Up in his Arms) Rude or not, it will not stop us from searching and helping out a dearest friend!

Hat Kid: (Points Forward as Screams Out....) FOR BIG SIS FUTUBAAAAAAAAAAAAA!~

Omega ignites his jet booster as he rushes himself over to the main office, with Hat Kid in his care and assistance.

Peach: Omega! Hat Marie Kid!! Both of you get back here right this instant!!!

Shadow: (Sighs While Pinching the Bridge of his Nose) I'm never going to hear the end of this tomorrow morning, am I?

Yusuke: (Smiles Sheepishly) There's no need to be too hard on them now. They're only doing their best to help.

Shadow: Yeah and their help is gonming to get me in trouble. I'll watch over them. (Skates his Way to the Troublesome Duo)

Peach: I'll have everyone of our peers know what's going on, so they can help out.

Yusuke: And I'll continue my search.

Yusuke and Peach nodded to one another before splitting themselves up to do their own assigned tasks. As he starts walking around, the artist suddenly hears crunching sounds coming from the under the table behind him.

He he got down on one knee pulls the covers on the table, up revealing itself to have his wiz tech of a girlfriend, Futuba Sakura, sitting under it in a feel position this entire time, slowly eating a mini bag of chips in her hand.

Yusuke: Futuba?

Futuba: (Eyes Begins to Widened as She Slowly Turns to Yusuke with a Bit of an Awkward Smile on her Face) Heyyyy there, Inari. How's it going?

Yusuke: (Raises an Eyebrow) It's going......What, pry tell, is your reason of sitting here of all places?

Futuba: Ohhh you know, just.....hanging around......

'A Bit of Silence'

Futuba: ('Sigh in Defeat') I made you worry, didn't I?

Yusuke: (Simply Nodded) You have, yes. As well as the rest of our friends and family who are now looking for you as we speak.

Futuba: (Sighs Once More While Facepalming Herself) I thought so....I'm really sorry, Yusuke. I didn't mean to make you all worry tonight, honest! I'm just....(Turns Away While Rubbing her Arm Slowly) You know......

Yusuke: Intimidated by a large crowd present here tonight?

Futuba: (Turbs Back to her Inari) Yeah, exactly. ('Groans in Frustration') I just don't get it!! I've been doing ao well being out of my comfort for four years straight, ready to face the world head on and yet, here I am going back to square one by sitting here all night!

Yusuke: Old habits would always find a way to better the better of us at one point in our ongoing lives. That's nothing to feel too ashamed over.

Futuba: ('Sigh') Yeah, I know. (Starts Putting on a Determined Look on her Face) But I promise, I'll keep working my hardest to get over this completely from this day forward. You can out on it!!

Yusuke: And I will continue to root for you every step of the way, just as long as you allow me and everyone else in our group to try to help you if needed.

Futuba: (Nodded in Agreement) Yeah, definitely! But u-um.....('Sigh') I'm sorry, but.....Do you mind sitting next with me for a bit? I don't think I'm completely ready to get out just yet and.....I missed you. Whole a lot.

Yusuke: (Smiles Softly and Reassuringly) Of course. I've grown to miss you as well. (Goes in Under the Table and Sits Himself Next to His Girlfriend) Hm. We have more room here than I thought.

Futuba: I know, right? It feels so room for an uncover table. (Turns to her Boyfriend with a Smile of Her Own as She Hugs him Lovingly) But seriously though, thank you so so so much for being here and.....putting up with my nonsense tonight, Yusuke.

Yusuke: You're very welcome, Futuba. I do all that I'm willing to do as my love for you runs deep than the roaring waterfall depth within the rainforest.

Futuba: (Giggles Softly)

Yusuke: (Raises an Eyebrow Again) And what seems to be funny to you, Ms. Gremlin?

Futuba: (Tries Dying Down her Laughter) Sorry, sorry. Just couldn't help how funny your corniness is. I love you too, you big dope~ (Gives Yusuke a Big Kiss on the Cheek)

The sound of the microphone static begins to echo into the main hall as someone begins to speak on it.

?????: Attention, all remaining guests! I, E-123 Omega, as well as many others, have an announcement to make!

Futuba: (Instantly Recognizes That Voice) Omega-kun?

?????: My best friend/partner-in-crime, Futaba Sakura, has been missing for eighteen minutes and thirty five seconds and counting. This main futility needs to be thoroughly searched immediately!

Lavenza: Futuba-Chan! If you're out there, please know that we are certainly doing our best to look for you this evening.

Morgana: And we're not gonna rest until we see you in front of us safe and sound, you got that!?

Sae: Don't forget that we're always hear to lend an ear when you need someone to talk to. So please......Don't be afraid to come to us.

Shadow: And if you feel like you need more time to be alone and collect your thoughts, take as much time as you need.

Rouge: That's right. B-But....not too long. The princess is already brought out thr water works-

Peach: FUTABAAAAAA!~ PLEASE BE OKAYYYY!~

Rouge: And Little Miss Bossy Pants has been tapping her foot nonstop, getting all uppity again....

Topaz: Hey, I'm TRYING to get you all out of here before anyone from the high district sees any of you! Do you have an idea how much trouble we'll be in if.....(Continues Scolding Rouge in the Others)

Rouge: See what I a mean? Uptight and bossy.

Topaz: ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!?

Shadow: Guys, seriously. Are we gonna turn this microphone off or what-

Microphone is abruptly cut off.

Yusuke: Well.....That happened. (Turns to See Futuba Laughing Some and Wiping a Single Tear Grom Off her Eyes)

Futuba: (Takes A Deep Breath Before Speaking) Okay. I think we spent quite enough time under here for one night. (Slid her Out of the Covers Before Getting Herself Up Off the Floor) Let's go, Inari.

Yusuke: Ready to leave already?

Futuba: Yeah. (Smiles Brightly) I have friends and family to hug right now.

Bonus

Few Hours Latee, After the Valentine's Day Party Has Ended

Peach: Oh Mario!~ (Opens the Door to her and Mario's Room, Holding a Slice of Cake in a Plastic Plate) I'm back from the party. (Closes the Door Behind Her) And the cake you got me is absolutely scrump.....tious.........

The place starts to slip out from the princess' hands as her eyes and mouth widens at the sight of her loving plumber laying on their bed like a french model, wearing the same silky red attire Bayonetta got for him earlier today, staring at her with his bedroom eyes.

Mario: Welcome home, my princess~ Happy Valentine's Day~

Peach: ......................

Mario: (Suddenly Remembers What He's Suppose to Do Next) Oh! Right. (Picks up a Mini Remote and Uses It to Turn on his Stereo) Now that you're here, I must ask: what is you want to do for the rest of the night. Enjoy the rest of the cake or- (Looks Down at the Slice of Cake Already Down on the Floor) Huh. The cake is on the ground. Guess...... that means you pick me then-

Mario immediately gets pulled into Peach's embrace as the two finally begins to passionately makeout with one another in the comforts of their own room, while the song "Tell Me" by Dru Hill continues to play out in the background all night long.

Happy Early Birthday, Futaba Sakura!!

@princekirijo

@albion-93

@theweebmaster31

@bestpony666

@cyber-wildcat

@caleb13frede

[sleepyowlwrites]

Your writing is very lovely and relaxing, so could it be possible to share a soft and fluffy snippet? I hope you'll have a great day and thanks for sharing your creativity♥️

I'm on my phone so here's what is readily available to me. This is from Youth Story, pretty early in draft zero, when Evie had a different personality and Bell actually showed up.

The ground was hard, as it was wont to be after a frost, and the grass all stood at attention with their tips grayish-white. Nyks stepped on them reverently at first, but the wonder wore off after only a minute and then it was just cold and the slight crunch under his boots didn’t really make him smile anymore. But then, most things made him cold when he was alone. He walked faster when he caught sight of Bell and Evie waiting for him under an overhang.

As soon as he was within range, he was stretching his hands out to receive theirs in his. They gave them immediately, expressions unchanged except for the slight amount of affection that always tinted their mouths whenever Nyks was being both physically and verbally affectionate. He threw out any reservations about it being too early for this and instead threw himself into Evie’s arms, snaking both of his around her shoulders and leaning down to sink his chin into her hair. It smelled like coffee and lavender, which was so Evie.

“Are you cold, baby?” Evie said, her arms encircling him loose enough to give him space, but he just pressed himself closer into her.

“Yes,” he said back, not caring about either the pet name or the insinuation. Maybe he was a baby for being cold when the leaves still hadn’t finished falling, but the grass was frozen so whatever. “I need lots of hugs to warm me up.”

“Okay,” Evie said through laughter, the softer version of her usual, that reverberated along her spine and shook them both. “We can give you those.”

Bell tapped his shoulder after a minute and Evie carefully transfered Nyks over to her, which was a little awkward since Bell was taller than Evie and they had to rearrange their arms, but she was still warm and that was the most important part. Part of Nyks knew that the warmth emanated more from their joint delight at being in each other’s presence than from actual physical body heat. It was a special kind of warmth and Nyks reveled in it.

“This feels like love,” he said after a bit of silence.

Evie laughed again, louder and sweeter. “That’s because it is, you silly. We’re loving you all the time. Naturally you’d feel it more when we’re pressed up against each other.”

“We love you, Nyks.” Bell’s voice drifted to him through misty air tinged with sage and charcoal. Her voice always sounded smoky and clean to him.

“I love you, too.” He pulled away just long enough to bring Evie in so that they were a friendship wreath, breathing out heat into the October chill. “I’ll love you forever.”

Thank you, sweetpea.

[what-if-rpg]

↪ Have you heard about SANTANA LOPEZ? SHE is 29 and hails from LIMA HEIGHTS, OHIO. Looks exactly like DIANNE GUERRERO, and is TAKEN.

“Me and my head high, and my tears dry, get on without my guy.”

↪ IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Santana Maria Lopez DATE OF BIRTH: November 17 SEXUALITY & GENDER: Lesbian & Cis-Female RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married to Brittany S. Pierce POSITIVE & NEGATIVE TRAITS: Charming, Honest & Loyal. Blunt, Jealous & Bitter. OCCUPATION: Rachel Berry’s Agent CITY: New York, NYC

↪ HEADCANONS:

Santana and Quinn have quite some history as frenemies, she used to hate Rachel and Quinn's tense relationship as Santana herself was still in the closet. She once confided about that with Rachel and after that, their friendship blossomed.

Although Santana is a lesbian, she has a history of sleeping around with men, one of these men was Finn Hudson, who she slept only once with. Mostly because she wanted to spite Quinn thinking she had feelings for her then boyfriend. But once Santana realized that she and Quinn had more in common than cheerleading, she turned in a sweeter friend.

Britt was Santana's first love, first kiss with a girl, first-time sex with a girl - she owns a lot to Britt, but seeing Britt wants to start a family, and Santana wants to focus on her career, or more importantly Rachel Berry's career - she finds herself thinking the lovebirds might not be meant to be after all.

Santana recently got a big tattoo, of angel wings, on her back. It's to celebrate being as free as a bird and she holds no shame of her tattooed back, often wearing open-back dresses to flaunt her tattoo off.

↪ IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS:

MARIBEL & MR. LOPEZ (Parents): Santana broke contact with her parents after coming out. She sends her mom letters on Mother's day however since her mother isn't as against it as her father is. MRS. LOPEZ (Aunt): Her aunt sent her money when she struggled to get by as she was kicked out of her family's home. BRITTANY S. PIERCE (Wife): They are having a break at the moment to have things cooling down about the children's debate. LAYA, LEAH & LUCA PIERCE-LOPEZ (Children): Up to RPer RACHEL BERRY, KURT HUMMEL & QUINN FABRAY (Best Friends): Quinn and Rachel Berry, but also Kurt Hummel is family to her. They are her support system. And in return she is theirs.

[takasgf]

✨, 💫 + celeste !!

-aya (@softskiesahead)

AYAA!!! :D took me so long to answer this, you changed accounts XD BUT STILL thank you for sending this in, two years ago <33

✨ -- I'll tell you about a friend of theirs

Going to talk about @/shirumaki's Himiko becaus!!! I love when my friends let their ocs befriend mine. Her and Froggy met online, through Himi's online shop. Frog already had a habit of befriending people online, in her youth she used to only have online friends, and this was a more casual friendship, she was supporting a fellow artist and small business. They meet from time to time in real life, whenever Himiko comes back to Japan and they have a blast spending time together!! They have lots of interests in common so it's super easy for them to get along and just have fun on a day out. This would be the second time Frogeru met an online friend in real life, and she was terribly nervous because last time it went...pretty bad (secret frogeru lore!), but she was a lot more familiar with Himiko as a person and she seemed genuine enough online. In real life she ended up being so much more sweeter than Frogeru anticipated and she was pleasantly surprised :3 Poor Froggy was so nervous the whole time since Himi was super nice and she wanted to make a good impression !! But yeah, they have a really wholesome friendship and Frogeru is honoured to know another ace person in real life (besides her boyfren of course <3) here is a card edit i made of them a while ago!

💫 + a name -- I'll tell you how they interact with a specific person from their series

Celestia is one of Frog's closest besties, as you know. Fun fact, the reason I started to like Celeste so much is because so many of my friends like her and it reminds me of them (I cherish them very much). Also I looked into her character more and while I don't excuse some of her actions, she's too overhated :( Their closeness is due to their matching personalities and overall just getting used to eachother as time goes on. Their shared interest is fashion and that's what brought them to become friends in the first place, but they got closer through their conversations about life. They vent to each other a lot. They tell each other everything. Celeste was the only person Frogeru could trust with her feelings about Ishi. Frogeru was the only person Celestia could trust about opening up about her own insecurity. They know how to keep the other's secrets. Even if Celes pretends to be annoyed by Frog's obnoxious nature and may try to distance herself from her in the public eye, she remains her most trustworthy confidant.

Celeste is absolutely repulsed at the amount of sugar Froggy puts in her tea, but nobody bakes chocolate cookies quite like her. She may not fully understand her, but she's more than an important part in her life. Frogeru also models the clothing designs Celestia makes in her free time. Emotionally they are even closer than Frog and Saya. But the trio dynamic works very well because they have personalities that compliment each other really nicely.

[whitesunlars]

percabeth first ice cream date (sending you hugs and love)

Thank you for the prompt!

RIP i only posted the second page of the fic at first

As first dates go, theirs had been pretty perfect. Annabeth had been terrified of going from friends to more, but making that transition with Percy was easy. He had suggested an afternoon in the park and a stop at her favorite homemade ice cream shop, an offer she couldn’t refuse. The entire day had been full of laughter and joy and even a few sweet kisses. 

At the ice cream shop, Annabeth had accidentally gotten whipped cream on her nose, the danger of eating on a cone. Percy had wiped it off with a finger and then licked it off, making the butterflies in Annabeth’s stomach flip-flop around. He had no right being that attractive while doing something supposedly so innocent. To follow it up with a kiss to the tip of her nose? If she hadn’t already been halfway in love with him since the age of twelve, she would have been then.

Leaving the ice cream shop, hands linked and swinging between them, Percy was oddly quiet. He was never one to be short of words, always telling a joke or a story when silence fell. What if he hadn’t had as much fun as she had? Was it a mistake to try to make their friendship into a relationship? Did he regret the date? Did he not like her? Annabeth’s mind was spiraling and she ended up blurting, “Is it something I did?”

Percy froze and stared at her with a furrowed brow, “What?”

“Did you not have a good time? Did I do something wrong?” Annabeth asked, flustered. Dating was always hard for her, she always spoke too much and went on tangents that boys could care less about. She thought going out with Percy would be different, they were best friends, he already knew her tendencies and had told her that he found them endearing. The fact that they were still holding hands should have helped but it didn’t alleviate any of her anxieties. 

“Why would you think that?”

“You aren’t talking.” Annabeth replied, “You always talk.”

A red blush rose to Percy’s cheeks and he looked down at his shoes. Quickly, he mumbled something under his breath that Annabeth couldn’t hear. When she asked him to repeat he looked up at her, embarrassment evident, “Sorry, it’s just… I’m not feeling too good. I’m kind of lactose intolerant.”

“What?” Annabeth asked, “How didn’t I know that. Wait. Why would you suggest a date to get ice cream?”

He smiled bashfully, “Because you like that place so much. I thought you’d have a good time.”

Laughing, Annabeth slipped her arm around Percy’s waist. “I’d have a better time if my date didn’t get sick just to see me happy. Next time, let's choose a place we both can enjoy.”

“Noted,” Percy replied with a grin.

“Let’s get you home,” Annabeth said, leading the way still tucked against his side, “I’m sure you could use a Tums or something.”

“You have no idea.” Pressing a kiss to the side of Annabeth’s head, Percy added, “I have the best girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That was a word Annabeth could get used to. It was sweeter than ice cream.

[shipppphappens]

Zoey's extraordinary GoodBye

To make it short: I love that episode. Best episode of the whole show. What can I say more about it?

A LOT! And I will, but I can't say anything about something I didn't like cause there had been nothing. No single moment. It was a perfect whatever final.

I think Danny Michael Davis is so loveable. He is so strange but has a good heart and proofs that so often this season. It is obvious he replaces Joan in that season, but Noah Weisberg gave him so much live and character that he isn't just a replacement, he is a well deserved part of that show. My favorite moment with him from that episode was when he told Zoey that he choose Max over her.

Tobin and Mackenzie are so cute together. The foot cuddle, their speak to the crew or theire  makeout in the chair. Just cute. And her fears about working together could break them up shows just how much she likes Tobin. And Leifs smiling face when they annonced theire relationship was very nice.

I also love David this season so much and his worries about his mom were just so funny.

The scene with Emily and Maggie was so nice. I like their relationship. And I think it is totally understandable for Maggie to go on with her life and maybe get a new partner. This is a huge step from the beginning of the season. Even Rogar was kind of creepy. Maybe he is a serial killer?

And I loved Maggies speach to Max. West Coast Mom - I am crying. Max is a part of that family. That he invited Maggie, David and Emily says a lot about how connected they are. Hope we will see more of that.

The next cute couple is Mo and Perry. Nothing can Perry stop to win Mo back. Not even Danny Michael Davis doing fire violations. I am really want to know if Mo told him to do this. In my head canon he did and DMD does him that favour. The duett was wonderful. I like it so much, I love the version of that song. And it was so nice to see how his kids running through Mo's Apartment and throwing that fox in the air. I hope we will see more of that in the next season.

I also love what a good friend Mo is to Zoey and Max. All his work for the party and his speak. This was such a wonderful friendship the whole season and this was just the highlight, with that wonderful speach.

And he is always there for Zoey which is great. Loved the scene when Zoey came to him to tell she wants to tell Max how she feels. The comparison between Perry's kids and Zoey - so hilerious. Alex Newell was killing the whole scene. When he was snippy about the dream and Mitch fix Zoey in one night or his disbelieve Zoey want to go alone after all the time he was there for her. Just loved it, love Mo and his big heart.

What next...

Zoey and Simon? Ok, let's talk about that. It is not so easy cause it was a relief that Simon broke up with Zoey. I know that there are a lot of pissed people out there, but it is like Zoey said, Simon and Zoey were never meant to be. This isn't their story, had never been and had been never told that way. But I like how they handled that moment. The talk at the pier was really nice and I wish Simon all the best. He had a passion inside he can use for his projects and I think he is on a good way doing great things in the world. I loved the happy Simon from the beginning of the season.

The music from that episode is amazing. No song I didn't like. Never been a fan of Taylor Swift but the ZeP version of "Shake it off" is so great an so full of live.

And I love the song that Mitch sang for Zoey so much. I loved how they danced, how happy Zoey had been, how she finaly realized she should live with less fear. This whole scene gave me just a good feeling. It was bittersweet beautiful and it is my all time favorite Mitch and Zoey scene. I also loved theire talk. I was hoping the whole time Mitch will help Zoey to realize that she and Max belong to each other and find the courage to tell him. I thought they will use the video from episode one but this was better in so many ways. But they had this circle to the first episode that season by using Mitch related songs to come to the Max and Zoey moments. They even use the same way of cut. Also the colour of their clothes matching to last dance when Mitch died. I love how they use stuff like that.

From here on I go in chronologically way:

Zoey's sadness at the beginning of the episode was also bittersweet. It is so nice to see how Max going away affected her. Even Simon can't change her mood. The first talk with Mo had been a start to finaly think and talk about what she should really do. And her writting Max name on the cookie just say everything about her heart. I am not really sure if it was a mistake to put things on pause, but how they handled it was a huge, big mistake.

Max put the dummy in his suitcase was like Max name on the cookie. They are both so in love with each other. And I feel sorry for Rose, but I am happy she is smart enough not to push Max.

Maybe it slipped out not on purpose, but Zoey really want's to tell Max she is available. His face was priceless. And her comes the next piece from the puzzle for Rose.

It was really sweet that Zoey wanted that party special for Max and her speach was just perfect. I liked the part with the big apple is sweeter now most. That this speach end up at the kitchen made it even better. I understand that Zoey is pissed but she should know that it wasn't because he felt sorry for her because of her mom. I am happy she find out and Zoey sees again how perfect Max is for her. And would have been to easy to say all the things now, they said at the end, but the looks in their eyes said more then 1000 words.

Zoey's fear of loss isn't something new, it is her theme throughout the whole show. Explained more in the episode before and climaxed in her dream with Mitch. She is to afraid of loosing Max and even they won't break up some day, she could loose him anyway, like she lost Mitch. I think it is beautiful, but I am happy she take that jump and is finally able to tell him.

Her talk to Mo, her enthusiasm, her crazy babbling about a plan (don't do drugs in Roses backbag) and she goes without thinks through, just doing - perfect.

When she heared Max (perfectly) singing about he loves a woman and she thinks he is singing about Rose - also perect. And this is why: this isn't just the way how we get that wonderfull ending, no. Zoey is learning a lesson. If you don't know the context you can't know what is in other peoples head. It is the 2nd time in that episode she realized she can't know everything just because of her powers. And I think it is a great gesture to just let him go and to be happy with Rose cause she thinks he loves her. She doesn't try to change his mind and to get what she wants, she accepted his choice. This shows how much she loves him cause loving someone isn't always fighting, sometimes it is just doing what is right.

Her relationsship advice to Mackenzie was so nice and shows how much she learned and grow during the last months. And Iove her fumbling with the ring - the ring, who is with her the whole season, even when she and Max are fighting, when she is with Simon, when everything seems lost, she keeps the ring Max gave her. And it is such a nice circle to close the season, when Max said to her it wouldn't make her invissible. They are talking about superpowers. A thing Zoey allready has, feeling alone with it and Max also struggles not to can hear her thoughts. I think it is a great twist that Max can now also hear heartsong and it doesn't came out of the blue. When I think about it, it makes so much sense. Max's heartsongs are always kind of special. They were more touchy than others, except for Mitch's but they are all 3 connected to each other. And it brings so many possibilities for a 3rd season.

And save the best for the last: CLARKEMAN ENDGAME!!!!

The love you could see in both eyes, what they said, their bodylanguage, it was just perfect. I am so over the moon and I am so in love with Zoey's heartsong. She looked so happy and in love. And I am so happy and in love with that episode, that show, that season, these characters, the music.

[flydotnet]

Tailwind (Inazuma Writing Exchange Fic)

For this edition of the Inazuma Writing Exchange, I got @forelsketparadise! Hope you will like it! I picked the first prompt from their list, "a go timeline enkaze who goes to each other games to cheer on each other and plays together on the olympics team" because I vibed with it more and so was sure it'd end up better. It's sadly very much on the shorter side, but I think it's at least a nice sweet treat. (I can't apologise enough for the short length, I swear I'm usually better than that). It was my first time writing both EnKaze and Kazemaru in general so I really hope I didn't fail too badly.

Once again, big thanks to @ina11writingexchange for hosting the event and allowing the community to create things for each other.

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

Tailwind

Summary: Even when they're on opposite sides of continental championships, they always find a way to cheer and support each other.

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (GO era)

Pairing: Endou/Kazemaru (pre-established)

AO3 version.

---------

They may not be on the same team most of the time, but it doesn’t prevent them from freeing just enough time to watch each other’s games. They do their best, as always, to accommodate for their differing schedules; so, even if it doesn’t always work out, they can at least be reassured that they’ve done their best to attend these matches. At worst, they watch each other’s games and make sure to give some feedback – it turns out to mostly, if not always, be praise. Not objective, but what’s the point of being objective when it’s an act of affection?

 They don’t play in the same countries, but at least, they play on the same continent, so it’s not as difficult as it could have been. In fact, one may find it convenient that, sometimes, all they need is a train ticket they have more than enough money to afford. Sometimes, it’s a plane ticket, but it’s the same deal, and it’s become almost routine. Almost, of course, because they see so many places that they don’t have time to get bored of one place.

Endou mostly plays in France, where he enjoys a reputation of being one of the few good-natured, passionate players who’s very much not here for the high pay (if he was, Kazemaru wouldn’t be dating this man). He donates his money to keep amateur soccer clubs open, he visits some when he can, he gifts merchandise to his fans because his Raimon self still shines even to this day. He went to pursue what a man once told him, a decade ago – that he should one day go to Europe, see where soccer was born. He’s been loving the trip, so far, even if he misses Japan sometimes. Calling back home always heals up some of the homesickness, at least.

Kazemaru, on the other hand, plays on the other side of the Alps, in Italy. Even after their middle school days were over, he pursued sports instead of athletics and, to this day, hasn’t regretted his definitive choices. Playing for a high-ranking team means he doesn’t get as much enjoyment out of team friendship anymore, but it gets counterbalanced at least in some part thanks to his regular visits to and from Endou. At least, the top level justifies the hassle and he doesn’t regret at least seeing and testing it for himself. The top stage of the soccer world allows him to run as fast as he can.

 When they can attend each other’s matches, they’ll fairly easily find each other in the stadium’s audience. Endou is very loud, as he’s always been, so Kazemaru always spots him without much trouble – he’s loud, standing up and wearing his bright orange headband. There is no way to miss him whenever he can come, even if he drops unannounced because what he may have been busy with got cancelled or postponed. In fact, Kazemaru may likes the surprise aspect of those impromptu visits more than he usually likes Endou’s visits: they always leave a much sweeter taste because that’s when he sees the most that, no matter where they go or how much distance separates them, they’ll always be here for each other. It’s very much unlike any relationships, be it platonic or romantic, that he’s ever been into.

Kazemaru has a slightly more discreet and stealthier approach to it, but Endou never misses to spot him in the audience either. He always finds a spot where he can be seen, especially compared to everyone else, bearing the colours of Endou’s team around his neck. From the outside, he may just be another supporter – which is true, since he’s Endou’s biggest – but he’s also much more than that. He just tends to appreciate more privacy compared to his boyfriend, that’s all.

 However, being in separate teams most of the time has never meant they couldn’t play on the same side of the field, sometimes. Sure, there have been more times in European tournaments where they’ve had to oppose each other (indirectly, most of the time, but it never prevented Kazemaru from at least trying to reach the goal and attempt a shoot with someone else) than times where they’ve had the opportunity to have each other’s backs on the field, but – and Endou believes a lot in this mindset – that’s what makes those times so much better.

It’s rare, so it’s something they enjoy as thoroughly as possible. Wearing the same emblem on their jerseys, being able to kick a ball off the goalpost directly to the other, defending together when just goalkeeping isn’t enough… it’s all part of the experience. They’re the little things that make the big picture so beautiful.

 This time, they got both selected to be in the starting line-up of Japan’s representative soccer team for the next Olympic Games and it’s both an honour and a chance for self-indulgence. There’s nothing like cheering a teammate, after all, they both learnt that throughout their days as amateurs in a small junior high soccer team. Once again, they’ll wear the different uniforms of a same team and rise up to the top together, as allies, friends and something more.

The world is once again theirs do seize and that’s what they’ve both wanted for so long that, truly, neither of them can accurately tell for how long. All they know, and all that matters here, is what is going to happen.

[libsterslobsters]

Communication Breakdown

Summary: Friends make life much sweeter. That is, until you realize that you've accidentally fallen in love with your only friend. But that's not a problem. The reader can just keep pretending that she has absolutely no romantic feelings for Bucky whatsoever... right???

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Reader

(Reader sees bits of the future, understands all languages, and processes information abnormally quickly)

Warning: Angst, fluff, strong language, and truly terrible communication between two grown adults who should really know better

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert if that's your jam, but when I'm writing this particular character, I call her Violet.

*************************************************

 They day starts out the way most days do. There’s the normal ding of her phone at seven a.m. signaling that she’s received another “Good morning” text from Barnes (six months, and he’s yet to miss a day). As usual, she sends back her own “Good morning” and they exchange a few well wishes for the day ahead. Only this time, a pang goes through her heart as she turns the phone to silent and places it in the drawer of her desk in preparation for her first class. Pushing it to the side, she greets her students and starts in on her lecture about verb tenses.

 She’s almost forgotten her momentary lapse in feelings when her phone rings at twelve. Time for their daily lunchtime phone call. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about the words they exchange. He’s doing laundry today, does she want him to stop by and pick up hers as well? Yes, thanks, that’ll save her some time since she has a mountain of papers to grade. Does she need to reschedule tonight’s dinner? He doesn’t mind if she does. No, she has time. Can she bring anything? No, just herself. Then a joke about how hasn’t she heard that one somewhere before. She almost slips up and tacks an “I love you” onto the goodbye, but remembers just in time. That’s not a thing friends say to each other (or at least, not in this friendship). Of course, friends also don’t spend far too much time imagining what the other person’s lips would feel like against theirs and their skin doesn’t tingle like they’ve received an electric shock every time they so much as brush hands.

 “You got a boyfriend, teacher?” One of her students ask teasingly as she puts her phone away.

 “No, nothing like that. Just my friend.” 

 Her afternoon is a blur (the only part that stands out is when one of her students is asked to form a sentence in the present tense, and his example is, “I am asking teacher to marry me.”; it was a joke, and she responded with, “Teacher is flattered, but she is saying no.”), and by the time she’s on the bus back home, a backpack full of papers in the seat beside her, all she wants to do is sleep. Of course, then her phone dings with, “Be at yours in thirty.” and she finds she has a little more energy.

 It’s unhealthy, a sign that she doesn’t know when to quit, but as usual, she begins to pretty herself up a bit before he arrives. She should just stop. They’re friends. Bucky is her friend. All he will ever see her as is a friend. What does it matter how she looks? Frustrated, she throws her hair up in a ponytail (she wasn’t succeeding in getting it to lay right anyway) and pulls on an old flannel with several holes in it over her shirt. There. She’s got this completely in control.

 She’s just finished washing the makeup from her face when, right on time, a knocking comes from her front door. It’s just a formality at this point; he has a key. Speaking of… she shoves a pair of socks that got mixed up in her laundry last time she did both of theirs in one go into her pocket and goes to answer.

 “Hey.”

 As per usual, they share a hug, and a part of her whispers that hugs between friends don’t last this long. She knows it’s foolishness, though. She hasn’t had a friend in years, so she’s remembering things wrong more than likely. He doesn’t get much interraction outside of her, not much touch, so that’s why he doesn’t let go. That, or he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings by pulling away.

 Eventually it does end, and she can feel that her cheeks are warm.

 “Hey, Doll. Ready to go?”

 She swallows hard. It’s a sweet nickname, one that from what she’s read, was a common way to address females you’re familiar with back in the days before he went in the ice.

 “Sure.” She pastes a smile on her face and closes the door behind her.

 They’re in the elevator before he speaks again.

 “That shirt-” His fingertips brush the skin on her wrist as he examines the cuff. “-it looks kinda familiar.” Her mind has gone all fuzzy, but it’s still clear enough that sudden realization dawns on her; it’s actually his. A loaner from months ago when it was colder than she had expected by the time she got around to leaving his apartment far later than she really should have. She can’t believe she never got around to returning it.

 “Shit. Sorry, Buck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

 Yet another reason why he would never be interested in her. She’s absentminded. Seeing bits and pieces of the future leaves her so scattered that she forgets what she’s supposed to be doing in the present. In fact, for the first month or so after they really started to become friends, it was a constant struggle; her asking him about something she could’ve sworn he told her, only to find out it had yet to occur, or worse, it had happened but he sure as hell hadn’t mentioned it. These days, whenever she makes a mistake with her timing, he just responds with a joking, “You’re ahead of the game again.” She’s lucky to have him as a friend.

 “Nah, don’t worry about it.” The doors squeak open as they reach the ground floor. “Looks better on you anyway.”

 God, she wishes he’d stop saying things like that, stop being so kind. It only serves to make things get even more tangled in her mind. She needs a distraction. Now.

 “So, what’s tonight’s plan?”

 He chuckles.

 “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.” She doesn’t even bother to supress a groan at that.

 “I think I have enough surprises in my life already.”

 “Funny thing to say for a girl who sees the future.” Not like she can argue with that. “Just trust me. You’ll like it.”

 She does trust him, and that’s part of the problem. It’s been a long time since she’s had anyone in her life that she can honestly say she relies on.  She needs to stay in control, or else she’ll lose him like she’s lost everyone else.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She’s oddly quiet tonight, reserved. Maybe even a little sad. Bucky shakes his head, silently chiding himself. He’s imagining things. If something had happened, she’d tell him. She’s probably just tired. It’s the middle of the working week after all, and she’s having to do one of her least favorite tasks as a teacher: prepare exams. She’s told him many times how much she hates it because, “I don’t feel like it’s an accurate gauge of how much they’re really learning. Lots of people do poorly on tests because they get nervous but do well in class discussions and on the homework. It shouldn’t count for so much of their grades, but I have to stick to the rules.” It’s yet another reason he loves her, even if he hasn’t said as much.

 As they stop by different street vendors, collecting what they need for the night ahead (which he still isn’t one hundred percent certain will be a success, but after copious amounts of internet research, it was the only thing he could come up with that would fit  the current bounds of both budget and time), he asks about her day. Usually she gives an animated account of everything that happened, but this time, she just sticks to the basics. Even when she shares that a student teasingly proposed to her, the smile on her face seems hollow, unreal. Okay, maybe he’s not imagining things.

 When they’re a block away from their destination, he stops and turns to her.

 “Close your eyes.” Her response is a frown.

 “I think I’ve heard this one before, and I’m not falling for it.”

 “Come on.” Nope. Still nothing. Time to pull out the big guns. “What was that about trusting me?” It’s a guilt trip, and he hates to do it, but it’ll be worth it.

 “Fine.” She groans, and her eyelids lower. “But if you’re about to put a spider on me, I’ll smack you. I don’t care that it’ll probably break my hand.”

 He snickers.

 “No spiders involved. Promise.”

 It’s not the first time he’s held her hand, but as he covers her smaller one with his, a rush of warmth travels from his fingertips up his arm. It’s so hypnotizing that he almost forgets he’s supposed to be leading her. Almost, but not quite.

 “This way.”

 “Don’t let me fall.”

 “I won’t.”

 If anyone notices that there’s a woman with her eyes closed being led around by a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses even though the sun is setting, they don’t show it, and it’s a relatively peaceful walk into the park. Now, he remembers there being a bench… there. Great. And the lake is completely theirs. No other people around.

 “You can open them now.”

 The look of cynicism melts from her face as her eyes open and she takes in the scenery surrounding them. In a bustling city, they’re in one of the few places that is completely green. More than that, there’s-

 “Ducks!” She laughs, and he can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “In the middle of the city! Wild ducks!” Looks like his gamble paid off. “How did you-”

 “I didn’t know for sure.” And in truth, he felt a little silly googling ‘parks in Bucharest with wildlife’. “But there was a web page that mentioned wild ducks tend to populate lakes, swamps, and rivers even here, so I took a shot that, maybe since there’s a lake here, there’d be a few.”

 “Is that what this is about?” She taps the loaf of bread they aquired on the way over.

 “No, that’s actually part of dinner. This-” He hates to do it, but he has to let go of her hand to dig in his pocket, finally producing a bag of oats. “-is for the ducks.”

 She smirks. “You’ve done your research.”

 “Be prepared.”

 “Alright, boy scout.” Even as she says it, she’s staring out at the water.

 “I know it’s not ‘catching a mouse in your apartment’ different, but-” The corners of her lips quirk up at the memory. “-I thought it might be a nice change from sitting around watching movies.”

 “Thank you.” Even though it’s getting chillier with the sun going down, that smile more than makes up for the lack of warmth. “You didn’t have to do all this-”

 “No, but I wanted to. Thought it might make you smile.” That’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because she freezes, and that smile melts into a frown. “Everything okay?”

 She starts to nod, but then stops short.

 “Bucky, I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

 Without any other explanation, she’s off, heading back in the direction from which they came. And, like that first day all those months ago, he chases after her.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

 “Hey! Slow down!” Ten seconds. He must not’ve had his Wheaties this morning if it’s taken him this long to catch up with her. Still, just this once, couldn’t Barnes not follow her? Take it easy on a girl for a change? That’s the whole point of running away, after all. To put some distance between yourself and whatever it is you’re running from.

 She keeps moving, walking fast, but he’s right on top of her.

 “When are you gonna stop running away from me?”

 “Depends. When are you gonna stop chasing me?”

 “I’m not. Thought that was understood.” He takes her hand (when did they start doing that? Most friends don’t… then again, what does she know about friendship) and she has no choice but to turn around and look at him.

 “Talk to me.”

 She can’t. If she starts, she knows those tears she’s keeping at bay will spill over.

 “Alright.” Dropping her hand, he crosses his arms. “I’ll wait, but it’s starting to get dark, so I’d appreciate it if we could do this sooner rather than later.” Dammit.

 “I just can’t do it anymore.” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. No tears. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’ve never lead me on or acted like anything other than a friend, so please don’t think you’re the problem.”

 “Problem? Doll, what-” She pushes ahead, ignoring his confusion.

 “The problem is me. Somewhere along the way, I got my wires crossed.” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Now keep going. “You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes. And a-” Her cheeks are on fire. “-a good-looking one too. Anyone would be lucky to have you. And selfishly, I started wishing that “anyone” was me. I didn’t mean to, but I fell in love with you.” She has to finish it, or else she’ll regret it. “I just can’t keep going like this. It hurts too damn much. I’m sorry. I need to not see you for a while, and I get it if you never want to talk to me again.” It’s no use. The tears fall, and she starts walking again.

 “When the hell did I say any of that?”

 She can’t stop. She can’t do this. Not now.

 “Will you stop running away from me? Just for five minutes?”

 He hasn’t touched her, but it doesn’t matter. She freezes in place, just as if he’d grabbed hold of her and held her there.

 “Please, just this once, let me walk away.” Can’t he spare her that one last dignity?

 “You wanna walk away? Go ahead. But like I said, I’m not gonna stop chasing after you. Not until you hear me out.”

 He’s in front of her now. There’s no way of hiding that she’s full-on crying, so instead she shuts her eyes so she won’t have to see his face.

 “Dammit.” She couldn’t have said it better herself. “None of what you just said made any sense. You want us to stop seeing each other because… you’re interested in me. Have I got that part right?” She nods, still keeping her eyes closed. “That’s what I thought. See, the part I’m a little confused about is, why would that be a problem?” She opens her mouth to explain it all over again. “I thought it was pretty clear I’ve been trying to date you for the past six months.” What? She’s never been more befuddled in her whole life. It’s enough that she has to open her eyes. “Not as clear as I thought, obviously.”

 He’s scratching the back of his neck, something she’s realized over time is a nervous habit.

 “This is my fault. I should’ve come out and said something, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or…” He clears his throat. “...well, sound dumb if I’m being honest. Granted it’s been a while since I’ve done this, but seeing each other pretty much whenever either person has free time, eating together and watching movies, phone calls…” He trails off. “...I thought that was dating.”

 Oh.

 “So, all this time-” She starts.

 “Looks like it. Sorry.” He grimaces. “Not that I wouldn’t want to be your friend, if that’s all you wanted. I mean, you’re a great person and I like you in more than just THAT way. I just sort of assumed.”

 She can’t help it. A laugh slips out.

 “God. This would’ve been a hell of a thing to have a vision about.” Good. He’s smiling. At least they’re starting to recover.

 “I thought for sure you must’ve; something at least, with all you see me doing before I do it.” Sometimes, she really hates her powers and how selective they can be. “Figured it was just one of those things you don’t talk about but you both know. Pretty dumb, in hindsight.”

 “No…” She reaches out to grasp his arm, but stops short. “...I can see why you’d assume-”

 “You too, now that I think about it.” He chuckles. “This is a nice mess, huh?”

 “One of my best, I think.” Honestly, she could’ve avoided all this trouble if she had taken a cue from third graders and passed him a note that said, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.”

 “Can we start over? Maybe have a redo with less assuming and more actually saying things?”

 She nods, a genuine smile on her face.

 “I’d like that.”

 “Okay.” Clearing his throat, he sticks out his hand. “Hi, I’m Bucky. I’m the man who’s been falling in love with you for the past six months, and if it’s alright, I’d like to be your boyfriend. Or, whatever the term is these days.”

 “Pleased to meet you.” She’s struggling not to laugh as she shakes his hand. “That term’s kind of cringey, but I think it’s still in use. And if it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me.”

 It’s been long enough; she really should let go of his hand, but she can’t bring herself to. He seems to be having the same problem, so instead, he takes a step closer, and she does the same in response.

 “I have one more question, and I’ve been meaning to ask it for a while.”

 They’re chest to chest now. She can almost feel it every time he takes a breath.

 “Shoot.” 

 “Can I kiss you?”

 This must be what people mean when they refer to getting butterflies.

 “You’d better.”

 It’s not her first kiss, and if she had to bet, it’s probably not his either, but it’s unlike anything she’s felt before, making everything else pale by comparrison. They may have gotten off to a rough start, but at least for now, they’ve ironed it out. Oh, and he loves her too. That’s also good.

[ilyrafe]

𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕 ; 𝒄. 𝒃.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

the older he gets, the sweeter he is. charles isn’t shy to talk about you to other people, he wants everyone to know how happy you make him and how in love he is with you. he likes to have you in his arms at all times.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

charles is your partner in crime and he’s the most loyal friend you could ever have. he doesn’t let anyone talk shit behind your back and perhaps he has a teeny tiny little feeling for you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

charles is a pro cuddler. he likes to cuddle you and the kids in bed, because it’s cozy, it’s familiar and it’s his happy place.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

um... he always had people do it for him so... no. he’s useless in that aspect.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he would cry because you’d cry. when charles falls in love, he falls deep into it, and losing you is one of his biggest fears, so when the reality of it downs on him, it’s bad.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

if he could choose, he’d like to marry for love and not be a political thing, but he can’t really do that. charles cannot be faithful to save his life, so there’s a big problem. he doesn’t like it about him, he hates that he’s a cheater, but he just can’t be faithful.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

as said before, the older he gets, the sweeter he is. he’s a gentle giant, especially around kids and animals.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

he does. he finds them very comforting. because he’s so tall, when he hugs someone shorter, 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

he’s a bit impulsive (e.g. his first marriage), so he probably says it first and really early, and to be honest, probably after having sex.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he can be very jealous. he doesn’t like when men are looking at you, because he knows what they’re thinking and what they want to do. he’ll be moody and will force himself out of the place just so he won’t lose his mind and make a scene.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

he always smiles in his kisses. it’s the sweetest thing. your foreheads touch and he rubs the tip of his nose against your and it’s very cute.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he loves his children, and would love to have a little girl. he wants to be an example for the boys, so he personally teaches them how to ride horses, everything about swords and fights and how to address people correctly and stuff like that. he’s a great father and he would do anything for his children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

cuddles and morning sex.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

he always check on the kids before going to bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he’s quite open about himself, but people (especially the girls he’s been with) know about him and there’s gossip.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

charles is patient with his children and with you. with his enemies, he’s calm but if they mess with him, it’s over.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he knows his stuff. if he’s interested enough, he’ll make sure he knows everything there is to know about the person.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you accepted to adopt his other children from previous marriages. it meant the world to him that you accepted his children (the people he love the most in the world).

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

charles will kill to protect his family. he doesn’t care, his family is his everything and nobody will lay a finger on any of you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he’s extremely generous. he gives you the most expensive jewlry, the most beautiful dresses, the best of literally anything. it has a lot to do with his own guilt of not being able to be faithful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

there’s nothing uglier than cheating and apologizing for it and doing it again.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he used to be, but isn’t as much now.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes. it’s a whole psychological thing with charles. he loves you, he does! but he grew up in a very sexist society, in which is acceptable to think men own women, so he’s not the only one who acts like that. he absolutely hates that he is like that, though. he wants to be committed and faithful more than anything.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

charles writes letters for you and the children, but never sends them. he’s extremely honest and real about his feelings. it’s his own therapy session.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he’s against physical violence, and he doesn’t approve of the king’s methods of solving problems.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

he sleeps shirtless and with a pillow under his feet.

[bexlynne]

Girl Crush Chapter 2

Based on this season of Druck

Chapter 1

He never thought this would happen. But here he was with Mush, his best friend... Blink pulled back for breath, panting a little, his lips swollen from kissing. Mush smiled, his eyes big and soft and his expression giddy.

My lover's got humor. He's the giggle at a funeral.

The other boy pulled him back down to lay on the narrow bunk, facing each other, noses almost touching, their legs tangled up together.

Knows everybody's disapproval. I should've worshiped him sooner.

"Just look at you, Blink," he said, a touch of awe in his voice.

If the heavens ever did speak, he's the last true mouthpiece.

This day was one in a million. The boys were all at Medda's theatre, having a party of some kind. Blink hadn't sold enough to justify spending a whole penny on a ticket.

Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week.

Mush had gallantly offered to stay with him, claiming he didn't want him to be alone. Mush had been his best friend since they were kids, he should have been comfortable alone with him. The tension was unbelievable, and it could only be Blink's fault.

We were born sick. You heard them say it. My church offers no absolutes.

But Mush had been the one to pull him close, to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Maybe... Could he have felt it too?

He tells me "Worship in the bedroom."

The heavy, achy feeling in Blink's chest lifted for the first time since he could remember. This was wrong. It was so, so wrong, but it felt so right.

The only Heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you.

It couldn't be wrong. Nothing involving Mush —his best friend, strong Mush, gentle Mush, beautiful Mush— could possibly be wrong, whatever tradition told them.

I was born sick, but I love it.

It took all his restraint to hold back, to keep from grabbing Mush and telling him everything, exactly what he needed, exactly what he felt. Mush felt the same way. There was no hurry.

Command me to be well.

Blink felt a hand slip under the hem of his shirt, ghosting lightly over his stomach and up his chest, and he could have sworn he was floating.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Another hand moved to caress Blink's face, and he closed his eyes, biting hard on his lower lip. This was heaven.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your life.

He'd never felt this at ease. Mush knew him, better than anyone else. He knew every scar, every flaw, every imperfection. For maybe the first time in his life, there was nothing to hide.

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that deathless death.

He reached up to slip off his eyepatch, tossing it carelessly onto the bed.

Good God, let me give you my life.

Mush shifted, leaning forward over Blink, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor. Blink was all too happy to run his hands over his chest, covering every dip and scar and every inch in kisses.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your life.

He was dimly aware that things would never be like they were. After a night like this, well, how could they?

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife.

Their friendship was gone forever. But this was so, so much better.

Offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.

Already, life seemed better. Waking up every morning would be almost worth it if Mush was the first thing he saw. And going to bed, knowing that he'd have to do it all over again tomorrow— if Mush was by his side, he almost didn't mind.

If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight.

This was the start of something new, something beautiful. It had only been in his grasp for a few moments, and Blink already knew he'd do anything to keep it.

To keep the gods on my side, they demand a sacrifice.

He'd stop selling papers right now. He'd get a factory job, go back to school, starve in the gutter. Anything, if it meant keeping Mush.

Drain the whole sea, get something shiny, something meaty for the main course.

People would talk. That had been his daily nightmare for years, but now he didn't even care. So what if they got arrested? So what if everyone knew?

That's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable?

Now that he'd tasted heaven he could never go back. The ache in his chest was back, not so strong now. He had a hunger for more, more touch, more closeness, more Mush.

We've a lot of starving faithful. That looks tasty. That looks plenty. This is hungry work.

He'd never given much thought to the future, to where he'd go when he left the lodging house. Two working men could pay for a room easily enough. Or maybe even a tenement, an apartment, a house in the country. Somewhere peaceful, quiet, away from prying eyes. Their own little corner of heaven.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your life.

Blink felt lightheaded from the wave of bliss washing over him, stronger than he'd ever felt. And another thing he'd never felt— a burning desire to return the favor, to make Mush feel just as good.

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife. Offer me my deathless death.

The sound Mush made had Blink weak, and he knew right then that give him anything he asked for.

Good God, let me give you my life.

The sun had just gone down. The other boys wouldn't be back for hours. They had all the time in the world. And Blink planned on using it to the fullest.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your life.

Mush pressed a feather light kiss to the scar over his blind eye. Blink felt himself melt at the gentleness of his lips, the strength that he used to grab his hips and pull him closer.

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife.

Mush knew him. He knew him better than anyone, and he loved him anyways.

Offer me my deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.

The giddy excitement came rushing into him, making him lightheaded and smiling wide enough to make Mush laugh. Finally, they had something that was theirs.

No masters or kings when the ritual begins.

No more sharing Mush with the pretty girls who came knocking on the lodging house door looking for a date. Mush was solely and completely his.

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.

His to love, his to cherish, his to protect and please and give him whatever he wanted, so long as he'd stay. And maybe— maybe— love Blink the same way.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene, only then I am human. Only then I am clean.

He felt more complete than... than before he'd lost his eye. His scars didn't matter, him being broken didn't matter. Mush was looking at him like he was a prince, and he felt perfect.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

He never wanted tonight to end.

Good God, let me give you my life.

[marvella15]

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 9: The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle

• It’s 1939. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers’ partnership was box office gold and literally kept RKO from bankruptcy. But the magic has fizzled out and both actors are ready to move on. So for their last musical together you pick… a historical re-telling of another famous dancing duo?

This probably made sense at the time because the Castles were well known and who else would possibly play them in a biopic but the best-known dancing duo of the time. But it makes for a very blasé film.

• I’ll say this for The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle, the relationship between Astaire and Rogers’ characters is far more relaxed. They’re a unit for most of the film, which is a nice change. A lot of their personal friendship and connection seeps into their scenes, I think. 

The relationship also feels like a glimpse at what a real-life partnership between Astaire and Rogers might’ve looked like. In her autobiography, she theorizes that she and Astaire might’ve become a serious item had she stayed in New York and they’d continued dating. But instead, she went off to Hollywood.

• Apparently, Irene Castle was a bit of a nightmare for Rogers to deal with. She was incredibly nit-picky about the clothes Rogers wore because she (Irene) was a fashion icon in the 1910s, and since this was a tribute to her and her beloved husband, she was intent on getting her way. 

Irene was also upset with the casting of white actor Walter Brennan as her faithful servant, Walter, who in real life was black. Irene and Vernon were responsible for making African American music like ragtime and jazz popular among whites and traveled with a black orchestra so the whitewashing of Walter possibly felt extra insensitive. 

• It’s likely that without the Castles there would have been no Astaire/Rogers. The Castles helped legitimize “close dancing,” which was previously seen as scandalous, because they were so classy and respectable. They moved dancing along and then Astaire and Rogers moved it even further. 

• Our characters/actors: Vernon Castle (Fred Astaire), Irene Castle (Ginger Rogers), Walter (Walter Brennan), Maggie Sutton (Edna May Oliver)

• I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: don’t waste your time trying to make someone like you who is not interested and terrible. Just move on.

• Ah, the 1910s, when men wore suits to the beach. 

• Is that dog the same one that Rogers had in Shall We Dance?

• Rescuing a dog at the beach is a special kind of meet-cute. Being harangued into spending the rest of the day with the other person’s overbearing family is less cute. Watching the woman you just met perform a weird af “Yama Man” routine while dressed as a clown is just freaky. 

Vernon is rather high and mighty about being a “theatre actor” and Irene being an amateur when he’s the second comic in terrible slapstick shows. In fact, his comedy routine is horribly unfunny.

• Astaire does look rather right in the 1911 attire though and the peck on the cheek Vernon gives Irene is quite sweet. 

• I really enjoy how well they look together when practicing at her house.

• The lyrics “I can see myself doing the things I never could do, It’s true, But only when you’re in my arms” is fitting for Astaire, especially to sing to Rogers.

• The kiss they share after getting engaged is sweeter than the kiss in Carefree. Fight me.

• I like how naturally she reaches for his hand and the way his thumb strokes her fingers. There’s a lot of quiet intimacy between them in this film. 

• They really do a great job with the audition dance. You can see Astaire and Rogers themselves peek through when he spins her a few times. Their faces are just lit up. Home movies from this dance show they were having a pretty fun time. 

• The idea that no one would pay money to see a man dance with his own wife is ludicrous. Obviously, the Castles were a successful married dancing team. But more than that, you’re telling me that if Astaire and Rogers were married irl no one would want to see them dance together? 

• I like how when asked whose idea it is that they dance together, they respond in unison, “Ours,” and then glance at each other. She turns back to the proprietor right after but he keeps gazing at her adoringly. 

• The actress Edna May Oliver plays Maggie Sutton but all I can ever think of when I see her is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whom she played in the 1940 Pride & Prejudice film. 

Fun fact: The Castles real-life manager was an openly out lesbian named Elizabeth Marbury. One guess why that isn’t included in this 1939 film. 

• The way Vernon (Astaire) watches her while she opens the present is very affectionate and loving. 

• “Dance with me” is a line that’s repeated a few times in this film and it’s lovely. 

• The Castle Walk is the move they invent to dance quietly and it was all the rage. By the time the Castles returned to New York the following year, they were massive celebrities. As we see in the dance montage, they popularized many forms of dance including the tango and foxtrot.

Speaking of the tango, Astaire gives Rogers a few flirtatious up and down looks during that dance. 

• The dances in this film are all based on the Castles’ dances so it’s not the same as when Astaire rigorously choreographed routines specifically for himself and Rogers. However, they still manage to make the dances engaging and uniquely theirs. 

• In “The Maxixe” dance, you can again see Astaire and Rogers as themselves peek through the acting as they grin at each other in a familiar way and he watches her appreciatively during some of the moves. 

• While on the train, they sit side by side and his arm is looped through hers so his hand can rest atop hers. Sweet domesticity that we rarely get to see between Astaire and Rogers’ characters. 

• When he explains to their agent that they want to slow down, he starts out by saying, “We’re in love…” Rogers turns to look at him and doesn’t look away for several seconds. 

• Astaire gives a particularly athletic performance for the Royal Flying Corp. There are a lot of jumps and energetic moves and he nails them all. 

• Irene was right that Vernon would make a good soldier. He was awarded the Croix de Guerre in 1917 and was later promoted to captain.

• Their dance when he’s in his uniform is another lovely duet (you can see some rare behind the scene footage above). It’s not like anything in their previous films, particularly because it is much more demur. But there are several gorgeous moments such as when he’s looking at her and she turns to face him and smiles softly. There’s also a stunning part where he lifts her from behind using only their connected hands and she leans back into his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. 

(gif credit)

• Vernon’s deadly crash was only deadly to him. The student pilot in the plane wasn’t seriously injured and neither was the pilot in the other plane. Vernon was 30 years old.

• In case it’s unclear, Vernon gave a list of songs for the orchestra to play and they are all songs that were meaningful to him and Irene. The ones we hear are: “By the Beautiful Sea,” which was playing the day they met, “By the Light of the Silvery Moon,” which he danced to at the train station, and “Only When You're in My Arms,” which he sang to her before proposing.

• And so the Astaire/Rogers partnership at RKO comes to an end as their characters dreamily dance into the horizon together. But don’t worry. Thanks to Gene Kelly’s broken ankle and Judy Garland’s unavailability, we’ll get to see Astaire and Rogers on screen together one last time. The Barkleys of Broadway is next and last. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hi, could you consider? Jason Voorhees x reader thing where the reader was Jasons friend before he died and now they visit the camp every year to pay their respects on the aniversity of his death and they sorta rekindle their friendship after a while?

I tried to go with big events or staples in Jason’s life ^^ But my knowledge of Friday the 13th movies is… a bit limited… my bad.  I hope you like it anyway!! I hope its what you wanted ^^

1958 (Reader and Jason are like, 12 here): 

When I… saw him, I was scared. At first. Not of him exactly, I don’t think at least, but of the entire situation. He was supposed to be dead, and things that are alive after that are never showed in a sweet light. Vampires, zombies, ghosts.

But then he held my hand like he always would and gently lead me to his old cabin, where apparently, he was still living. I felt happy, I gave him the picture I drew him, and he smiled at me. I thought he could come home with me now, and everything would be okay! But… something was different about it all. His hands were always cold, but now they felt freezing. He spoke even less then he used to, as well. And the cabin was dirty, and he couldn’t possibly live here comfortably.

And then, I asked him to come back with me and mum. “Its okay! Jason, now we can go back home, and you won’t have to live here! We can still be friends! I’ve missed you.”

He gives me a tiny smile back, but awkwardly pulls his icy hand away from me. Shaking his head, he steps back and sits on his mother old bed. Which is mouldy and where the sheets to be white, are brown now. So, I don’t sit with him. “I… can’t go… “

My heart sinks, because of something worse than disappointment. “But… you can’t live here!” There’s no food, or clean water, or proper shelter! And… no parents. The idea is insane!

I watch while his fingers clench into the mattress his mother used to sleep on, and feel a dull, slow realisation dawn on me. Like when you’re three days from having to go back to school after a wonderful holiday. “M-my… my mum… “ I look up him with wide, furrowed eyes while thinking about all his changes. He died, even though its hard to believe, looking at him. The cold isn’t bothering him, in some places moss from the water still clung to him in some places, he was comfortable in this place that I couldn’t ever stay in no matter how much someone paid me. He’s changed so much… to the point where, weirdly, he fits here. And I can’t think of a thing that I could say or do to change his mind.

For the first time in my life I feel completely, wholly helpless. There’s nothing I could ever do, to… save him. His eyes are duller than they were when… we were friends… and he’s not him anymore. Even though it look, and feels like him. My friend Jason is gone.

He’s gone somewhere I can’t follow him.

1983: 

Awkwardly, I purse my lips, looking around at the forest while Jason carves into some wood, bored himself. I think that’s the piece of wood he was working on last year. “Okay… well, bye Jason.” I have been waiting for this all day! I want nothing but to leave Jason and get back to my family, the people I chose. It no longer feels like a choice to see Jason, even if it only once a year.

Its not like he makes me, its more that I force myself to come because I have my whole life since he died and if I couldn’t handle the guilt if I left him alone on his anniversary day one year. It used to be nice, when once a year my mum would drive me up and here and I would get to see my friend, even if it was different and weird. But soon enough, somewhere between high school and getting married, it became a burden. Because, really, what do we have in common?? Nothing. Why are we dragging this on, when all we have in common is history? History means very little when theirs no good memories to give it substance.

Oh… shit. Even thinking that sentence in my head felt bad. Of course, there were good memories… but its been so long since we’ve made a new one that I’ve forgotten what it felt like. What little I do remember, from when we little, feels made up. That’s how little it surfaces now.

As I pat his shoulder and get up from the porch where we were sitting for 4 hours -Four long, painful hours, - I accidentally wobble a bit and get a glimpse of the back of his head on accident. For a moment I keep going, getting to my feet and turning to walk off to my car, before I realise that what I just saw was not normal. People do not have dents like that in the back their head. Well, I mean, some people with the same condition Jason has sometimes do, but he was not born with this particular depression. I whip back around, surprising him and look shocked at him. “What the hell is that!?” He grunts, and shifts uncomfortably at that because he doesn’t talk anymore, and I soften my look a tiny bit in apology, knowing he doesn’t like swearing. “Right, sorry.” I roll my eyes. “But what is that crater in the back of your head Jason?!”

He sighs, deeply and shrugs.

“No, don’t you give me that. What is it? You bang your head on a branch or something??”

Not sure how a branch would make that kind of dent, but, it works to get the ball rolling. Maybe he’ll think the idea is so ridiculous that he communicates to me what it was just to set me straight. He does think I’m kind of ridiculous.

Yea, because he’s a hobo recluse who lives in the forest all alone, so he’s wiser apparently.

I watch him roll his eyes, before thumping on away from the cabin, leaving me alone abruptly, before coming back with an axe which is… not comforting. I glance from it to him and back again a few times, and he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head again.

Then he holds it up to thoroughly show me, causing me to notice the blood on it, then touches it to the dent. Finally, he grabs my hand -his is still cold as fuck, -, and holds it to his chest. Where there’s no heartbeat.

“What?” At first, I don’t get it at all, scrunching up nose in obvious confusion.

Then… slowly… it dawns on me. I gasp. “Who hit you in the head with an axe??!” He was already pretty dead, but this is new. Can’t say I feel surprised at all that he can live without a heartbeat, seeing as he survived drowning when he was 11, but this is new, at least.

Now he’s really gone somewhere I can’t follow. And can’t relate to.

2003:

I don’t know how long I’ve been out for, but it can’t be long when I open my eyes -the word a little blurred at first. The only things I can make out being a giant dark looking thing that could be a rock looking very still and another, brighter coloured one jumping on it.

Eventually those figures turn into Jason and that fucker that slashed me, - because they’re both still there near me. As far as I can see from the fight, as I get up from the earth and leaves and little twigs and dirt drop off my clothes and the wounds across my abdomen hurt like hell, is that Freddy’s doing most of the fighting, but Jason isn’t taking much damage. Good… okay… what can I do… I think, as I look around for a weapon.

Gadzooks! It’s my lucky day. Behind them, near me, I catch sight of Jason’s machete. He must have dropped it… Works for me.

On my way over to them, watching to see if either of them notice me back up on my feet, I pick up the weapon. Luckily, I’m pretty sure they both think I’m dead. So, it’s that much sweeter when I reach them and tighten my grip on the very long, sharp sword thing. Then I grit my teeth and ram the disagreeable thing into someone even more disagreeable.

Jason watches with a sense of surprise that I’m only just able to pick up on, because I know him so well, and a tiny flutter of a smile crosses my, probably terrible looking at the moment, face. “You couldn’t get rid of me when you died, and you certainly won’t just because I do.” I say, out of breath. These two may be immortal with the freaken stamina of 30-year old’s but I, am an old woman now. And kicking ass takes a bit out of me. Being too smart to drop the machete, instead roughly pulling it out of the sweater-wearers spine and walk with a slight limp, away from the scene. God, fucking… I really, almost died just then. And it feels like it. Where’s my phone? I need a goddamn ambulance.

Freddy, still alive I’m sure - a stab in the back is not going to keep him down, but I figure it’ll handicap him enough for Jason to take a good lead, - slips to his knees and I listen to the sweet melody of him groaning in pain as I hobble over to a considerably clearer area of earth, to sit down on and assess my injuries. “Bitch… “

Serves him right, the bastard. There are three deep scratches in my stomach, thoroughly ruining my one good white shirt, and making me a little woozy due to the blood loss. I look up from them to Jason, who’s staring at me in worry instead of finishing the fight. To reassure him, I flash a bigger smile and nod, gesturing for him to go on. “I’m fine, Jason. It’s okay. I’ll be waiting right here when you’re done.”

“Yeah- Hockey Puck -Fight hard for your girlfriend, heh heh,”

I look back down at my wounds and start thinking about what I need to do about them, ignoring the goblin completely. I hear a terrible, raspy gasp and then some screaming, and I know Jason’s thrown Freddy somewhere again.

An hour later, I’ve watched the teenagers leave, the group now cut cleanly in half and wait patiently, anxiously for Jason to come back too. The longer I wait, the worse I feel. dread fills up every part of my body that isn’t already full with pain from my wounds and a plain, dull, aching fear and I’m suddenly struck in the face with the thought that maybe Jason won’t come back. Maybe he’ll really lose this time.

He’s never fought someone like him before. This whole time I thought he was some invincible, super monster but, what if by monster standards he’s not??

I’ve never really felt the worry I’m feeling now. Not since he drowned, the first time. All these years after I’ve just coasted along with him, visiting once a year and forgetting about him the rest. It was like a chore, like something I had to do.

But now I’m afraid to death that he’s actually gone, and I’m stuck, stewing in the fact that I care about him. He’s an old friend, I love him. He can’t… he can’t die first. I’m the weak human!

I can’t believe I’m only realising this now. What an absolute idiot.

Just as I’m pushing myself up to my feet, to go searching in the direction he went in, I hear familiar, heavy footsteps and nearly damn well cry suddenly with immense relief. I sit back down, heavily and hide my face in my knees once I’ve seen him, trudging towards me. He looks so bad, but… animated. And that’s the main thing.

Ohhhh my god…

I feel the behemoth of a zombie, familiar to me in every sense of the word, like childhood, teenage, young adult, middle aged, and every other kind of memory put into one sit down on the grass with me. I peak up at him and can’t help the smile on my lips, tugging at the corners of my lips as the sun starts to come up over Camp Crystal Lake.

Sighing in relief, I explain my reaction to his return. “You’re okay?”

He nods, and raises 5 thick fingers to my stomach in question. I take his hand in mine, instead of leaving it to hang, and it feels good. “That’s fine. I’ll be okay. Thank you for asking, Jason.”

He curls his hand around mine in turn, as I lie down on the lush green grass, and try to rest. Finally, things feel alright again.

My eyes fall gently closed. Now I’ll go somewhere he can’t follow me. He’s never been good at death.

[severelyimpossiblecrown]

“I Know What My Role Is”

This is a phrase I’ve repeated so much that it now comes unbidden. This phrase has had me wondering for years how adept we can be at creating these new furrows in our psyche. We individual humans can tell ourselves something so much that it permeates one’s tangible reality. This, in turn, controls them as long as they feed power to what can often be poisonous chants.

“I know what my role is.”

My brain repeats this so much because I spent my late teens, and 20′s hammering it into myself. It would be the soothing phrase I’d tell myself if I got fronted on by women who wanted a pet instead of a friend or partner. In the dating game, this happened to me a ton. Y’all might’ve noticed by the tone of those #classichours poems. I soon found myself saying it every time I felt wrong or was wronged by various people. Instead of understanding that life can consist of many instances of being “wronged” because life is unfair. It makes those so-called triumphs and conquests that contrast with these injustices and slights that much sweeter.

“I know what my role is”

I thought that it soothed me before. Accepting my boundaries being lax or nonexistent so I could remain correct about life-sucking and be the long-suffering martyr. This is an easy way to justify that delicious depression. Woe was me, and the salt flowed free; I was the ever-faithful nursemaid who took care of people and then threw that back in their faces. I was the ever-faithful nursemaid who took care of people and didn’t train them to respect me.  I thought I was healing people with my friendship/partnership.  Even if I had, there would inevitably be some resentment on my end or theirs. So I then could explode at them when I reached my inevitable breaking point.

“I know what my role is.”

Many women I loved told me I needed to be more stoic. While I see the wisdom in their words, intense emotion, and being fed up with being a doormat has gotten me farther than balling up and hating myself in my room. At the same time, people shit all over my life and heart. While I shit on myself. I understand the need to foster emotional intelligence. To have some element of a strong frame and zen. I could only describe this in the corniest Soul Calibur way: “The soul still burns.”

“I know what my role is.”

I want to purge that phrase out of my bloodstream. I feel infected by it now. It is a favorite phrase of the depression girlfriend that lives inside me still. I’m tired of being tired. You all know the “tired” phrases. If this is my midlife crisis, I welcome it. At least I’ll shake myself from dulling my own luster for other people, instead of staying entombed in my house. Better that than accrue meaningless Playstation trophies until I do die for real and immediately regret not living for fear of scrutiny, judgment, or ridicule. 

“I know what my role is.”

I am well aware of the power I give to others over myself. It will take more therapy, more writing, more working out, more nursing myself into being someone alive. I have to make it. What better time than this beautiful American apocalypse?