#13 years of practice and it’s so so so so bad still
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i would love a best friends to lovers scenario. Like joost and reader are best friends for years and they are now developing feelings. Reader isn't dutch but german or something else and they teach each other their language. Like imagine joost teaching her dutch. And Please a lot of cheesy fluff. Thank you🥹
sorry for taking a while, i wanted to try to get the dutch as accurate as possible ❤️
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How Do You Say ‘I Love You’
You and Joost are childhood friends. After high school, you moved away from the Netherlands and since have been living in the south of France, but he’s always been bad at dealing with your absense
sfw: fluff, friends to lovers, so much fluff
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When high school ended and you went off for university, Joost felt like a piece of him had been left vacant. His heart ached during the fall and spring months when you were away in France teaching private English lessons and being a nanny to spoiled little French kids for half the year. The family you worked for always rubbed him the wrong way, but he didn’t realize why until he saw you again.
It was the beginning of summer, the family wanted you to postpone your month-long trip to the Netherlands, the country where you’d spent most of your adolescence and left all your loved ones behind. When you’d told Joost that you wouldn’t be back for another month, he’d gotten so upset and impatient that he booked a ticket the second he got your text and showed up unannounced.
You remembered how mortified you were when you were awoken by the two children, Max and Lucas, you looked after, delirious from sleep hearing them ramble about a strange, tall man with blonde hair who spoke poor French at their door. You hardly heard the morning birds, the sky still had hues of deep, navy blue, and the sun still under sheets of clouds, it was a criminal that you were being disturbed this early.
You remembered even more so the moment you looked through the peephole and felt your stomach turn. Your body was freezing already from being out of the warm bed, but his presence alone paralyzed you with it. You watched the distorted image of his nervous expression and body language, how he looked over his shoulder constantly and tapped his foot. He held one suitcase in his hand and wore an overstuffed backpack. His hair was a lot blonder than the last time you saw him, and he grew a mustache. This wasn’t the man you’d seen last year, and it certainly wasn’t the boy you were inseparable from in school who you watched YouTube and played video games with.
“Joost?” You rasped, still feeling the aura of sleep, the situation itself made you like you were dreaming without the fatigue.
“Yes.” He answered. “Please let me in.” He said curtly.
You frantically unlocked the door and practically jumped into his arms, hugging him as tightly as you could. The smell of his shampoo was overwhelming, bringing you back to when you were in his bedroom, just turned 13 and entering your scary teenage years. He’d always shower after school before you came over, he made it a habit as he liked to play football with the other boys after school and come home tracking dirt and mud in the house. You missed his parents’ voices scolding him for always forgetting to take his shoes off. The smell of apple in his hair brought you back to that beautiful memory. It hurt to let go.
“Missed you.” You mumbled, holding back the tears of the overwhelming happiness to see your friend again. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes.”
“C’est ton petit compain?” One of the boys teased you, prompting you to playfully push the giggling kids away into the kitchen.
“Vas t’en.” You scolded lightly. “Go to the kitchen.”
Joost chuckled, the sight of you with the boys always warmed his heart. He’d only met the kids a handful of times since whenever you two would reunite it would be in the Netherlands. They treated him awkwardly, but it was an infectious happiness, the domestic, comforting feeling of it to see you so caring and motherly. He felt at home with you all the time, and your sweet nature had soothed him for as long as he knew you. Even in the south of France, jet-lagged and nervous he felt happy with you.
“I’ll start making breakfast.” You said, quickly grabbing the apron and putting it over your pajamas he could tell this was a well-established, chaotic routine. “Do you want tea or coffee?”
“Koffie.” Joost exaggerated his choice of Dutch, encouraging you to roll your eyes. “Alstublieft”
You felt a bit bad that your Dutch was severely lacking despite living in the Netherlands for five years. It was honestly kind of embarrassing, especially for someone who taught a language for a living. You understood enough to finish primary school and talk to friends, but completely stopped practicing once you returned to France, and it’s only deteriorated since. Joost was disappointed, to say the least, but he enjoyed having something to tease you over.
“I’ll be here for two weeks, by the way.” He began, “You’ll speak perfect Dutch once I’m gone, so you’ll be really to come back to the Netherlands.”
You scoffed, “Why do I have to learn Dutch but you don’t have to learn French?”
He only chuckled in response as you prepared his coffee the way he always liked, hot, one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk. He’d been drinking it that way since you started high school together. Every morning, in fact, a steaming hot coffee, usually the shitty kind that was somehow always bitter no matter how much sugar you put in there. It was unsurprising that he loved cigarettes so much.
“I’ll learn French, why not.” He said, smiling as he took the steaming mug from you. “Dank je.” He thanked you sweetly.
“Merçi.” You corrected, “Omelette ou pain et fromage mes petits choux?” You asked the boys.
“Pain et fromage.” The two boys answered loudly in unison, clearly hungry and impatient.
“Pain et fromage.” Joost added in his broken accent, “Alstublieft.” His answer in Dutch sent the boys into a giggling fit.
You couldn’t help but sigh and laugh, internally relieved that you wouldn’t have to go fight the chickens for their eggs, a sight that would’ve certainly amused Joost, and could quickly cut up some of the bread you’d baked last night and cheese made from one of the local farmers. You were glad that as tired as he was, you’d at least be able to get him some good food.
You set the table, laying out a few choices of jam, cut-up fruits, and a little bit of butter. The boys drank their cups of juice and ate their breakfast happily, excitedly telling Joost about their today’s plans, a trip to the beach with the neighbor’s family and their youngest son.
“Are you boys good swimmers?” Joost asked them, his smile big and overpowering all his features, it was your favorite thing about him.
“Yes.” The youngest answered, Max, “Ma nounou is a very bad swimmer.” He always had to be brutally honest.
“She’s ok.” Lucas defended, sweetly handing you half of his mandarin when he noticed that you didn’t take any fruit. “We need to be ready in one hour.” He informed Joost quite seriously, the little kid a stickler for rules.
“Yes, don’t worry,” Joost assured him, taking the empty plates for you to the sink once he was finished eating. “Why don’t you help me with the dishes and give your nounou a break, hm?”
The boys exchanged irritated glances, making a silent agreement between themselves to not embarrass you or themselves in front of their guest. They dragged their feet to the sink, helping Joost clear off the table and wash the dishes as promised, giving you a moment to sneak away to get ready.
“How long have you known nounou?” Lucas asked, hearing the shower upstairs and knowing he was allowed to speak freely now. “We don’t know a lot about you.”
“Oh,” Joost huffed, instantly taken back to the same place you went when you saw him at the door. “Seventeen years, we met when we were twelve.”
The boys made a sound of astonishment, the concept of someone being friends for longer than they had been alive was a concept difficult to grasp but made them more inclined to like Joost instead of just seeing him as a stranger in their home. He understood, you were the closest thing to their mother and you’d been with them since they were born, essentially making them family. He needed to make a good impression.
“That’s a long time.” Max, being only ten, this was especially shocking. “Do you love her?”
Joost felt his cheeks burn, the lack of filters that kids had was something he could never get used to. He could only imagine how crazy this one drove you.
“Yes, I love her,” Joost answered, carefully stacking the expensive glass plates, plain as they were the few of them cost probably as much as his shoes. “She’s a good friend.”
The boys decided it wasn’t a satisfactory response, and to continue to interrogate him with questions. Naturally, they had to find out if he was good enough for you.
“You love her or you like her?” Lucas asked his tone still so serious Joost began to get intimidated by the little French kid still in his pajamas.
He heard the shower had stopped for a while, but knowing you, you were probably still overthinking what to wear or were taking a few minutes just to sit in the bathroom wrapped in your towel. He knew you too well, all the tiniest most negligible parts of you he memorized like it was his favorite song. He would play over and over in his head the things that you’d do, how your nose scrunched up when you laughed, how you rolled your eyes every time he corrected your Dutch.
“I do love her,” Joost admitted quietly, making his way to the living room. It was bigger than he remembered, a bit renovated, and kept impeccably neat, he wondered if they’d finally hired a housekeeper. “Kids, did your parents ever hire more help?”
Lucas shook his head, “Non.” He answered a bit sadly. “Maman says we don’t need more than a nanny.”
Joost simply nodded, thinking about the first and seemingly last time he met the boys’ parents. They were tall, stone-faced Parisian lawyers who wanted an escape from the city for their children, or rather from them, prompting them to buy the biggest house on the little hill in a southern French village. It was completely idyllic, but without you, he felt that they’d leave this beautiful home completely soulless.
“You kids should get ready.” Joost glanced at the clock, dreading when he would have to rummage through his bag to find swimming trunks and his sandals.
He found one of the many guest rooms and adopted it as his own for now. After making a proper mess of his clothes, he finally found his brightly colored blue trunks and flip-flops. He was the kind of person who liked wearing sneakers to the beach, but you never failed to give him a lecture about messing up your shoes with the sand, so he decided to be on your good side today.
Every time Joost reunited with you, somehow you’d changed completely for the better. You were more beautiful than the last time he saw you, softer, your presence feeling almost regal. He always wondered how you always looked so put together, how you always could calm or fix a situation. He saw you through rose-tinted glasses, but it never felt like an illusion.
“You look nice.” Joost complimented, taking the beach bags you’d packed from your hand and slinging it over his shoulder. “Are we walking?”
You nodded, “It’s fifteen minutes to the spot we go to.” You said, looking at him with a bit of excitement. “There’s a lot of shops and nice restaurants closer to that area.”
Eventually, the kids ran into their friend while walking, catching up with him and his parents and walking ahead, leaving you and Joost trailing behind.
“They were so tiny the last time I saw them.” He said, remembering how shy and reserved they were just a few years ago.
“Don’t remind me.” You said, watching the boys as they talked and joked with their friends. “I can’t believe we used to be that little.”
Joost turned to look at you, taking in all your beautiful features, returning once again to those old memories that made him happiest. As you two walked, the crashing waves and the fresh saltiness cleared his senses and washed away his apprehensions. It brought him back to the time he realized he loved you.
It was also on a French beach. You’d just completed your first year of university, enjoying the summer break, getting a new job as a nanny, and Joost came down to congratulate you. The two of you lay on the warm sand for hours, fingers grazing each other’s stomachs hurting and cheeks aching from laughing so much. He wanted to blame it on the fact that you’d packed a cooler full of sandwiches and alcohol, or that you’d been wearing a white bathing suit, and the sunset was one of the most beautiful and vibrant he’d seen, shining golden light against your skin. The scene was romantic, he had a bit too much to drink and he thought he was just confused.
He wished he told you then. The feeling only grew steadily over time, like seeds he’d planted his love for you slowly grew. He was thankful it was slow, the distance keeping his feeling muted and controlled as he didn’t have to face you every day, and your friendship surviving over texting and calls. Even then, he would reread all your texts, and stare at the pictures you’d send at random points of the day. It became like a ritual, every day before bed, when he woke up, if he was having a particularly bad day seeing your smiling face eased him.
“We have so much to talk about.” You were dying to hear all his stories about his tour. Joost was always cool to you, but being a musician made him so much cooler.
“I can tell you all about my shows.” He immediately knew what you were interested in. “But in Dutch.”
You groaned in response, not wanting to start the speaking Dutch argument yet. You found a place far enough to talk out of earshot but close enough to keep an eye on the kids. The weather was perfect, warm and sunny but not enough to swim yet.
“I thought you wanted to learn French.” You said, laying down the blankets and pulling his hand so that he’d sit with you.
“I do.” Joost sat a little closer than you were anticipating, his shoulder and knee touching you. “I’ll talk to you in Dutch and you can answer in French.”
“That’s too hard.” You complained. “Just speak a little Dutch.”
“Fine.” He relented. “De concerten waren leuk, the concerts were fun, easy right?”
“Ja, zeker.” You answered, seeing his face immediately light up at hearing you attempt to speak Dutch again, even if it was simple. “Wat was je favoriete onderdeel, what was your favorite part?” You asked slowly.
“So advanced.” Joost complimented jokingly “Alles was goed, zingen is altijd leuk, maar reizen is het beste, it was all good, but traveling is the best.”
“Ja, dat is leuk.” You answered plainly, not having much in your memory to work with.
Joost chuckled, bumping your knee. “How do you live in the Netherlands for five years and your Dutch is shit?”
“Your best friend speaks French and you don’t.” You attempted to defend yourself, it was a bit hypocritical as you two lived in the Netherlands at one point and not France. “But you will learn, and we’ll speak French all the time.”
“No, because I’m bringing you back to the Netherlands.” He answered, he was serious in his hopes you’d come back. “Everyone is waiting for you there.”
You hesitated, “I just hated the fact I couldn’t pick up Dutch.” You’d said it a dozen times, the fact you’d felt more comfortable speaking French was the reason you’d chosen to start your life here.
“We spoke Dutch all the time as kids.” He reminded you. “Don’t you want to come back?”
You couldn’t help but watch as Lucas and Max built sandcastles with their friend. France was beautiful, you had a good life and found a second family here. Even if the parents were a bit difficult at times, at least they paid you nicely and you knew they loved you. Still, you didn’t know if your future was nannying, or if it was even in France.
“I miss you all the time.” You began, reaching into one of the coolers to offer Joost a beer to let the building emotion taper off. “But maybe I’ll get to come back with you in two weeks.”
“It’s a bit early for beer.” He chuckled, handing it back and trading it for soda. “You’re trying to get me drunk already?”
“Shut up.” You hit his knee with yours. “Do you want to try to get into the water?”
Joost had felt the sun begin burning him through his shirt and was staring at the calm, crystal blue waters. He nodded and was relieved you said something.
He watched as you slipped off the straps of your sheer coverup and kicked off your sandals. You wore a floral bikini, he wished he could get closer to study the pattern and to feel how soft your skin was, he was glad being at the beach with you was an opportunity to be able to be able to hold you.
You two held hands as he led you into the water, thankfully it wasn’t as cold as he was expecting. At first, you two swam alone, you clung onto Joost’s back, your hands resting on his shoulders and legs wrapped around his torso as he went into the deeper end. It was like that for a while, talking about random things and pushing each other into the water until the kids decided to join you.
Joost was always great with kids, he was gentle and patient even if they were spoiled and could be a bit demanding. Lucas and Max spent a great deal arguing over who got to go on Joost’s shoulders so that they could go in the deep end. You spent the rest of the time swimming with Joost, the boys, and the parents before you decided it was time for lunch.
Lucas had been working to keep himself, his brother and his friend separated from you so that you and Joost could have time alone together. It was a sweet gesture, and he could tell how much he cared for you and his wish to be alone, even if he didn’t completely understand the depth of it.
Joost wrapped you in a towel and offered to brush your hair as you began to eat your lunch, a cold sandwich you’d packed the night before, chips, and more cut-up fruits, you couldn’t help it living next to so many farms. You fed some chips and fruit to Joost as he detangled your hair, giggling as you tried to figure out where his mouth was without compromising his work.
“I’m done now.” He admired his work, smoothing down the hair on your face. “I’m hungry, stop forcing me to work.”
He sat beside you and began to eat, still watching the way the sun glittered on the water but even then he felt something missing. As beautiful as it was, he realized he’d enjoyed looking at your hair and the sight of your smiling face much more.
“Is it good?” You asked, always tending to be nervous about whether or not someone liked your food.
“Yes, always.” Joost responded, “I love your cooking.”
“Say, J’aime votre cuisine.” You told him, getting a side-eyed response.
“J’aime votre cuisine.” He repeated, his pronunciation improving a bit. “How do you say I love the beach?”
“J’aime la plage.” You responded, wondering why he was asking such easy questions.
“How do you say I love you?” He was trying to be annoying, but as always you gave in.
“Je t’aime.” You said, rolling your eyes. “You know that.”
“Oh,” Joost brought you into an aggressive hug. “Je t’aime aussi.”
You didn’t know how the playful aggression ended up with you lying down with your head on Joost’s shoulder. You looked over at him, seeing that his expression had softened as you both listened to the sounds of the ocean and soft music from the shops down the street.
“I wish you’d come back forever.” He mumbled suddenly.
“Why so soon?” You asked, “You get to visit me here, and you’re never home anymore anyway.”
“I’d bring you everywhere with me.” Joost’s tone was a bit too serious, “I could take care of you.”
You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at his face. It wasn’t fair, he was even handsome from this angle. “What do you mean?”
He was the one sighing and rolling his eyes this time. “You know how I feel about you.” he began, “You know I don’t see you as just a friend.”
The confession wasn’t that, but just putting the obvious out into the open. You’ve never touched Joost more than a hug, or holding his hand in the seventeen years you’d known each other. You couldn’t fathom how excruciating it would have been if you focused on the fact that you’d always been dreaming about his touch and finally have something besides this friendship, as much as you cherished it.
You could’ve mistaken his lips for strawberries, and when you’d leaned down and pressed yours against them they might as well have been from how much fruit you’d spoiled him with.
You kept the kiss brief, smoothing your hand down the softness of his cheek as you looked into his eyes, the blue much more magnificent and captivating than any ocean you’ve seen.
“Ik hou van jou.” You whispered, the way his face brightened and how he smiled was something you’d never seen before. You wished the memory would burn itself into your mind. “You’re my best friend, I love you.”
“Je t’aime.” He whispered back, wasting no time to bring you into another kiss.
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why is being on your period so awful every time like you’d think one would get used to this but no
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#tag talk#told my brother about how I trimmed my sublingual frenulum and he explained to me how apparently I'm a 12 on the weird scale#he was like “at least it wasn't the dick one” and I had to tell him that yeah I already got that one like.. two years ago.#I think I'm now a 13 on the weird scale in his eyes#idk. it's always an isolating experience to meet people who are like “yeah I'm so weird I'm a freak!” and then I start talking and they just#the slow horror creeps across their face and suddenly I'm the freak again.#and here's the thing. yeah it's mixed up in mental instability but it's rooted in a genuine view that my body is just an object#I feel better than I've ever felt and I've been thinking about how I don't like that part of my body. so I changed it. simple as that.#it's not self harm it's self actualization. I'm creating something.#this is my gripe with mental health professionals. they view it as pathology. view it as a problem.#was me piercing my ears an act of self harm? I would say no. but deliberately sticking a needle into your body could be extrapolated as such#idk. just because I'm not like everyone else doesn't make me a freak. doesn't make me bad. doesn't make me abhorrent.#I like the fact that I'm becoming more confident in my weirdness. owning it. if anyone doesn't like it they can leave. I am who I am.#I still want some sort of wing design across my back and shoulder blades but I think I'll actually have to get that done professionally.#some day. not soon for sure. but eventually#my back is relatively bare compared to my front since my arm reach is limited so you know.#but like. a dragon wing design kinda like the red dragon Hannibal-style#wouldn't that absolutely fuck severely?#I think it would#I don't want more far out body mods like split tongue or piercings on less practical body parts#though actually ngl after bottom surgery I would actually totally get some sort of labial piercing maybe.#that would actually be sick as hell I think.#zero desire to pierce my dick cause I don't want it at all so the less attention it gets the better#anyway. done rambling for now.
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ok anyway im leaving in. the day after tomorrow at like 2am so im just saying its tomorrow cause im literally just gonna stay up till then theres no point in sleeping. BUT two things. one i need to finish packing. my clothes are dry so i just have to bring them upstairs and pack. sort of stressed out bc like. i like my outfit i dont want to change it but everyones telling me its too hot for a leather jacket like i know!!!! but its my jacket :(
anyway i just have to do that so ill do it now and then…on top of that i wanted to get the draft for my ghost story done but i havent been working on it at all >_< ive just been reading comics the past couple days. so tomorrow. for sure. i will definitely work in getting the draft done totally.
but ugh im kind of nervous i havent seen these people in so long and im not great socially. also i dont go on trips in general so like. i hope i have energy for a full month yknow. i have a tendency of isolating myself when im stressed out but i dont have any space to do that…not that i should but whatever you know
#LIKE. im just eugh like im Bad at small talk. im better at dispensing information and leaving it that#or listening. ive been practicing listening a lot more so i dont overtalk and everyone gets a turn#OH RIGHT!!!! i hope. cause i have 4 cousins. two are toddler age#one is a little younger than me so like 13 but hes a boy idk how he is cause he might be annoying no offense <3#and then an older girl whos around my brothers age so a few years older. and we never rlly talked cause it was always my brorher and her#last i saw them i was like. god idk it couldnt have been too young cause i got black out drunk before i stayed with them#so. 11? 12? definitely younger than 13 i know for a fact#im bad with times tho#anyway its been a while and im a lot older now. so i hope shes there so we can talk and be friends idk#apparently my brother isnt close to her anymore? he called her a bitch last time we talked abt her so. hope i do see her#and my aunt! i always liked her a lot and my brothers prob gonna be busy with our uncle. ill be stuck with the younger kids but thats ok i#dont mind since im used to handling my sister. apparently theyve wanted to meet me for a long time so i am super excited#i dont think anyones gonna expect what i look like tho lol i dont think anyone could have guess me being punk#not even me like i distinctly remember in elementary my friend. we were talking about mcr and emo / punk stuff and he was like. you coukd#never be like that. ummmmm well guess what dickhead!!!! jokes were actyally still close lol#ANYWAY i am fucking excited and nervous and have to find a normal way to bring up 18th century fashion or perhaps history of contemporary#folk
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what WAS the normal child response to learning abt climate change actually. bc I’m pretty sure ‘depressed for at least 6 months and becoming deeply fascinated by apocalypses for ~3 years’ was prooooobably not it but who am I to say
#did NOT realise how much this has shaped me actually#also am not exaggerating when I say depressed I. cannot remmeber a lot of it but my parents were Worried about me#anyway I joke abt how I’m a biologist now bc of pokemon and that is very true but this is probably a pretty big chunk too#it’s just wild like that happened when I was 11 and I was DEEEEEP in the apocalypse trenches until I was at least 14#I think I wrote my first longish story when I was? 13? about waking up after some massive chunk of time to a world with no people left#that concept rlly held onto me for some reason. just all the people suddenly disappearing#I’m saying all this like I’m not still rlly into apocalypse stories but it is a mere shadow of its former self#anyway I’m so grateful for the conservation module I took this year bc learning abt the state of everything + the way out of it#scientifically instead of piecemeal from the news and the shit I could read abt. has been rlly good for my everything honestly#didn’t properly sink in until two months ago I don’t think that year this is kiiinda what I would like to do with my life#bc I’d always been resistant to the idea of doing conservation or climate science or anything bc historically thinking abt it for too long#has been BAD for me and I didn’t think I could do that forever while keeping most of me#but now I’m at a point where like. okay very likely I’m gonna be an actual scientist. and while pure science is cool and worthwhile#and I still have feelings abt how there’s no funding or anything for studies without immediate practical applications#(THEY NORMALLY COME LATER AND EVEN IF THEY DONT ITS WORTH KNOWING EVERYTHING WE CAN KNOW SHUT UUUUPPP)#i do wanna do smth that’s gonna make a difference bc like I’m kinda in a position where that’s possible here#anyway my masters is gonna be ecology and hopefully with a microclimate focus which is cool as hell and will hopefully keep stuff open a bit#and I’m gonna try do as much as I can next year. there’s some very cool stuff happening I might be able to join#anyway wow this took a turn#climate crisis! woo!!#luke.txt
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☯ Natal/Sidereal Birth Chart Observations ☯
✅ The next following observations can apply to both tropical or sidereal ✅
☯ Mars in Scorpio or Mars at 8°, 20° degrees, these natives are very dedicated to what they are doing, is like they do everything with passion and love
☯ Mars in Aries/ at 1°, 13°, 25° degrees may love to practice sports, especially those who consume a lot of energy
☯ Mars square/conjunct/opposite Saturn, their personality can be very powerful and bold but they may struggle when it comes to self - expression and with keeping a routine for their hobbies
☯ Planets in the same house at different degrees matter a lot, even if they are at far degrees from eachother. They still hold a powerful energy
☯ Pay attention if Chiron moves the houses from your tropical to sidereal chart because you may have to focus on more things to heal yourself
☯ Mars in Libra or at 7°. 19° Can have a mix of chaotic - peace energy in their lives, but they somehow need to create a balance between those two
☯ Capricorn Rising in your solar return chart can indicate working on yourself a lot in that year
☯ Mercury in the 5H or Gemini/Virgo in the 5H may love to surround themselves with lots of art/music/fun/
☯ Ascendant aspecting Sun ☀️, The native personality can be easily liked by others, and they can often be very social/popular
☯ Mars or Venus in the 8H can find themselves being very attach to people with a powerful personality/aura
☯ Uranus in the 8H is a very unique placement.. if you have it, this placement gives the chance to explore your sexual energy in different ways
☯ Fire Risings have an unique excitement, a wild fire/sparkle in their eyes when they're happy. You can easily tell when they're in a good mood
☯ 8°, 20°, 10°, 22° degrees on the ascendant can give intimidating vibes, someone very powerful
☯ Aries and Capricorn Placements can often be very stubborn especially in big 3!! They like to do things in their own ways
☯ Having Jupiter as your dominant planet in the birth chart makes you extremely spiritual/kind and you may have a powerful desire to grow and to discover
☯ Capricorn Mercury or Mercury in the 10H or 10° 22° on Mercury natives can have a deeper voice than others but in a very mesmerizing way
☯ Venus in the 4H or Venus at 4°, 16° or 28° degrees can find themselves being the home and safe space for others, your way of sharing love is amazing
☯ Mars in Gemini/3rd house or Mars at 3°, 15°,27° degrees can have a very bold way of talking, their humour style is the best and sometimes they can have cracked jokes
☯ Lilith in the 11H or Lilith in Aquarius can find themselves being in groups with people who have experienced different traumas/bad things and can share those things between them!
☯ Lilith in Leo Degrees 5°. 17°, 29° can have a feline typo of appearance/personality even beauty like their face can easily be associated with a lion/feline
☯ Pluto in the 3rd house can make the native to be very curious about the taboo/dark/horror things, like they're so deep into the lore
☯ Cancer Degrees on ascendant 4°, 16°, 28° degrees can be more soft/sensible than others since young/since childhood. They're just more chill and calm than most people
☯ Natives with heavy Capricorn or Saturn placements can have strong legs/ and very beautiful ones
☯ Taurus Mercury/Mars or at Taurus Degrees 2°, 14°, 26° can be highly sensual in the room, also if they get excited
☯ Varuna (2000) conjunct/trine/sextile Lilith can be pretty known for their sensual nature, mesmerizing aura
☯ Mercury Dominant natives are truly the best ones who have around you! They're communicative/open minded, have a good sense of humor and they're also extremely supportive
☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) or 7H in Libra natives can inspire others to seek for their guidance, they often judge fairly and won't pick a side
☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) in Sagittarius or 9H can make the native to always seek for higher knowledge, this placement gives the high priestess in tarot cards vibes
☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) in Pisces or 12H natives are connected with the universe/source/God in a way that, they can feel its presence around
☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) in Leo or 5H can combine philosophy with fun/creativity, they can be really talented and share lots of good vibes
☯ Since the 9H is also related with school/education Mars/Saturn/Pluto and even Lilith in this house can have it quite hard/challenging in those topics, sometimes even getting in fights with the teachers as well
☯ Something natives with Lilith in the 10H or in Capricorn fight with is that most people in their lives try to be dominant and to overtake them and control their lives which is extremely wrong! Never let anyone do that
☯ How Venus - Pluto aspects/Venus in Scorpio/Venus in the 8H always fall for the people who have a bad reputation like?? Is like you are attracted to the villain of a fairytale/story
☯ Sun opposite or square Saturn can bring a difficult relationship with their dad, or they could've grow up in a strict household
☯ Lilith/Chiron in the 2H natives can have problems with their self esteem or self worth, sometimes even ED aka eating disorders
☯ Leo & Capricorn combos in your chart can make you very intelligent and likable
☯ I feel natives with Mars/Saturn/Pluto in the 4H or 5H may like to stay alone more than being 24/7 with people, like to have their own space
☯ Saturn or Capricorn in the 6H can be quite draining to have, it's practical but exhausting in the same time
☯ Having all your big 3 in the same element is quite unusual but powerful in the same time
☯ Jupiter in Aquarius or Aquarius Degrees/11H/11°, 23°. Their spouse can be extremely social and friendly,kind, humanitarian, helping, supportive. Is so hubby material
☯ Juno in the 1H natives can get into relationships since young ages as a lesson to learn and to explore an specific side of relationships, so that they learn to be more mature in their next relationships
☯ Virgo Risings have their 7H in Pisces which makes them to be dependent of their partner at times, like very attached and clingy
☯ Lilith at 0° degrees in the chart can indicate breaking the norms and bringing something new with them
☯ Lilith Asteroid (1181) opposite/square/conjunct Neptune or Venus, they have a catchy appearance and approach to people
☯ Moon in Aquarius can be known as that person of the family who is just born different, but in a good way like that cool sibling/cousin/friend etc..
☯ Aquarius Placements combined with Gemini and Virgo placements can be really into gaming since they have a very analytical mind
☯ While if you have Aries Placements and if you are into gaming you can be quite competitive in your games
☯ Pisces/Cancer and Libra Moons natives are the easiest to catch in love, is just their energy being in love 24/7, they can aslo switch up very fast if the person they like is not like they thought
☯ Lilith in Gemini/3rd house or aspecting Mercury can find themselves surrounding with people who gossip a lot, at some point people can gossip about them as well so take care who you spend your time with
☯ Lilith in Taurus/2H or at Taurus Degrees can be afraid of being rejected, as like an anxiety thing, you deserve a lot better if you have people in your life who may try to reject you
☯ Moon aspecting Pluto natives can often find themselves with people who may try to manipulate them into making bad decisions, don't always let yourself that easy to people
☯ Lilith square Moon/Venus can make women specifically hate you for no reason. Like creating this hate energy for nothing, protect yours at least
🦋🫶🏼 A new week is a new astro post🥰🫶🏼
Hope you all have it good 🤍🤍🤍
🤍 [H a r m o o n i x ] 🤍
#astrology#astro observations#birth chart#astro notes#astrology observations#placements#astro community#horoscope#ascendant#sidereal chart#tropical chart#venus#vedic chart#vedic#astroblog#astro seek#astro combo#astronote#sidereal astrology
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Not-So Formal Introduction
pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader
rating: M (talks of sex but no explicit smut here, just a lil awkward situation fluff here)
word count: 1.7k
joel masterlist
It had been one blissful month of seeing him, your carpenter-turned-maybe-boyfriend? Joel Miller. He was a walking dream with his brown waves, gentle eyes, winning smile, and that damn accent that only seemed to work for him. On top of his obvious physical beauty, there was also a beauty from within that drew you in. He was so tender with you, treating you as though you were a prize when all you’d ever been treated like before him was a piece of meat. And while he wasn’t perfect—he liked to snore and had a bad habit of showing up late—he was damn near close to it.
Though things were going beyond well, you still had yet to stay the night at Joel’s place, his 13-year old daughter Sarah at the forefront of both of your minds as you began to get more and more serious. Joel wanted to ease her into it little by little rather than all at once and you couldn’t have agreed more with the approach. Bur last night, the two of you finally took the plunge when Joel invited you over for dinner and a “sleepover” since Sarah was off at her grandparent’s house for the night.
As expected, you practically ran over, Joel’s smile greeting you at the door. He showed you around, made you feel comfortable, and cooked you a surprisingly decent meal before pounding you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning.
Which brings you to the present, your limbs tangled in his sheets, his warm body sprawled out beside you. You smiled as you woke up to his snoring, your fingertips desperate to reach out and trace the lines on his forehead as he slept with a scowl he wore for everybody but you and Sarah. You resisted the urge to wake him, deciding it would be more romantic to wake him up with breakfast in bed. Sneaking out of the bedroom in just your underwear and the white, practically see-through tank top you’d worn to sleep, you tiptoed your way downstairs with a smile, determined to impress him with your romantic gesture, until—
“Dad, you forgot to buy eggs again!” Sarah called out into the house before nearly running into you as you rounded the corner to the kitchen, both of you wide-eyed as you wrapped your head around the other’s unexpected presence. “Woah. You’re definitely not my dad.”
“No, I’m…I’m—“ Suddenly, your grasp on the english language disappeared completely, leaving you standing there barely clothed and shocked to the point of stupidity.
“Your dad finally awake?” A man you recognized from pictures as Joel’s younger brother, Tommy, walked in from the garage, his feet squeaking to a halt on the tile floor when he saw you. “Oh—my God. You, uh, must be my brother’s…girlfriend? Or a robber? I’m not sure which one is more unbelievable.”
“Not a robber. And we haven’t…officially—“
“Thought you weren’t gonna be home until this evenin’,” Joel’s groggy rasp surprised you as he stomped his way down the stairs in a pair of sweats, his t-shirt being squeezed on as he walked.
“Uncle Tommy stopped by Grandma’s and I just caught a ride with him,” Sarah filled her father in as you snuck off back to his bedroom, the embarrassment you were filled with making you sick in the stomach.
After a few minutes of inaudible chatter, Joel’s heavy footsteps climbed back up the stairs and found you curled up in bed with a look of mortification and dead on. He chuckled as he shut the door, shrugging his shoulders as he crawled on top of the blanket you were attempting to hide away in forever, his broadness caging you in as he laid on top of you.
“Well,” he chuckled again, his chin resting on your chest. “That didn’t go as planned.”
“I’m sorry, I feel so bad,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I just wanted to make you breakfast and impress you and instead I scarred your daughter for life.”
“You didn’t scar her,” he laughed and peeled away your hands so he could see your face. “Sure, it ain’t how we wanted it to go, but it wasn’t too bad.”
“I was in a thong, Joel.” Joel’s eyebrows raised and he tried to sneak a peek beneath the blanket, earning a swat to his hand. “I’m serious! It was embarrassing.”
“I assure you Sarah’s seen worse from back when Tommy used to live with us, and if it’s him you’re worried about, he had nothin’ but good things to say about you,” Joel finished with a cheeky smile, earning an eye roll.
“Oh, I bet,” you chuckled. “And Sarah? Beyond me being half-naked, are you sure she’s okay? I mean she went from knowing nothing about me—“
“Who said she knew nothin’ about you?” Joel asked as he moved to cuddle you from behind, his chin tucking in the nook of your neck.
“You told her about me?” you asked with a growing grin. Joel nodded and moved to place his lips against your pulse. “Like what?”
“Like I met a someone I really like,” he smiled against your skin. “And someone I think would fit in just fine with us.”
“Yeah?” You turned in his arms, facing him. Your finger traced his grin as he nodded before leaning in to peck your lips.
“So baby, you got nothin’ to worry about,” he nuzzled his nose against yours until you were giggling. “But maybe we should get you a robe or somethin’.”
“I could just put on pants,” you suggested and Joel reacted as though it was blasphemy, gasping and leaning back to look at you seriously. “Pants and a turtleneck sounds good I think. Maybe even throw a chastity belt on if I’m feeling saucy.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” You giggled as he rolled you onto your back and pinned you with his weight as he began to tickle and poke at your side until you were breathless from laughter.
When Joel finally let you breathe and climbed off of you, you beat the desire to stay in bed all day and quickly got dressed so that you could formally meet Tommy and Sarah. You gave Joel a nervous smile as he opened his bedroom door and gestured for you to lead the way, an amused look on his face as he watched you slowly creep down the stairs in front of him.
“They don’t bite,” he husked in a whisper as you stood frozen just around the corner to the kitchen and dining room. “Need me to hold your hand?” he taunted playfully with a smug grin, earning an eye roll and chuckle.
“No,” you affectionately swatted his hand away as he held it out for you and rounded the corner with a breath of confidence. Two sets of eyes immediately found yours as you walked into the dining room, your smile growing more and more nervous the longer they remained silent and staring. “Hi,” you waved timidly as you introduced yourself by name, “It’s nice to finally meet you both after hearing about you for so long.”
“All good things, I hope,” Sarah replied, a small but friendly smile appearing on her face. Her eyes followed Joel as he passed behind you and placed a plate of eggs, bacon and toast on the placemat in front of you before seating himself beside you.
“No, I told her all the bad shit and that really sold her,” Joel snarked and Sarah instantly mocked him but he got her back by stealing a piece of bacon from her plate.
“They do this often,” Tommy warned with a smile. “I just try to stay out of it and eat my food before they start pinchin’ at it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t pinch at your food,” Joel leaned over to whisper to you as Sarah and Tommy entered into their own back and forth. “Might pinch at somethin’ else, though.”
You turned to him with a playfully mortified glare and he grinned as he resumed his meal.
“So,” Tommy cleared his throat. “How was last night?”
“Ew,” Sarah gagged while you felt your cheeks heat, your eyes turning to Joel’s to watch as he fought a smile that was no doubt brought on by memories of the all-night romp you shared, eventually settling on a tight lipped glare.
“Tommy, I swear to god,” he loosely warned, the tips of his ears turning red as the embarrassment seemed to finally dawn on him.
“Well, I think I’ll go to the library and try to not throw up,” Sarah chuckled and stood up with her plate, but paused to look at you. “It was really nice meeting you. You clearly make my dad happy, and if he likes you, I like you too.”
You turned to Joel with a soft smile, finding him already watching you from over the lip of his mug, a smile of his own on.
“I’ll drop you off at the library so these two can get it out of their system,” Tommy stood up and announced as Sarah grabbed her backpack from the ground.
“Get what out of their system?” she asked innocently as they made their way out of the house and into the garage. You and Joel snickered as you overheard Tommy stuttering out a response faintly in the distance.
“That went well,” Joel beamed at you, reaching over to pull your chair closer to his. “I guess you’re one of us now.”
“I guess so,” you grinned, pinching his chin as he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. When he pulled away and looked into your eyes, you felt overwhelmed with love for the man in front of you, your lips already forming the letters of those three precious words for the first time before you could even think to stop it. “I love you.”
“Huh?” He almost choked on his sip of coffee, his fist pounding firmly against his chest a couple times as he cleared his throat.
“I love you, Joel. I love you, and it’s okay if you’re not there yet, but I am and I just had to let you hear it—that I’m in love with you.”
Joel’s eyes turned soft and both of his hands reached for you, calling you into his lap. He scooted back enough to give you room to sit before his hands found your face.
“Baby, I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now—probably since I laid eyes on you,” he chuckled and so did you, but then he grew earnest, shaking his head as his eyes darted across your features. “I’m so in love with you.”
“I love you,” you whispered the sentiment one more time to really drill it in as you leaned in to kiss him, his hands falling to your waist. “Mm, we should take this upstairs before I get caught half-naked twice today.”
“Good idea.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#joel miller#joel miller reader insert#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#tlou joel#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us
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What if m/c had been accepted for a scholarship abroad and just ended up stayinv there becoming the resident hero ? They did keep in regular contact with Alfred tho, seeing as he was the only family member who didnt ignore them.
Ok that is interesting and for this (which is not in the storyline in part 4) I will add another hero or two instead of Superman since he's not THAT special.
Small disclaimer: I am not sure if Green Arrow lives in Central City and where I searched told me he lives there so don't come at me that it's wrong please (I changed it to Star City so if you see it changed here is the answer)
This is based two years before you entered highschool so when you were 13 and already in Bruce's Manor.
You were there for a year and after suffering so much from Damian's tormenting you and everyone just ignoring you made you so tired and you wanted, no, needed to leave the manor and city.
You knew it was drastic but you couldn't do it anymore, you missed your mother and being sent to a home where people detest you just for existing made you feel so bad you couldn't even leave your room without a panic attack at the thought of being hurt by Damian's words or weapons or being ignored by everyone when you tried to say anything.
You applied to a few scholarship far away from Gotham to enter some prestigious schools in different cities so you could spread your choices if you got accepted.
You didn't say anything to Alfred until you received many scholarships and you chose the one in Star City, wanting to be as far away as possible from Gotham and the Waynes.
The only problem was getting Alfred to accept to send you there since he was the boss in the house, not Bruce.
You knew Bruce wouldn't care if he sent you somewhere else but you didn't want him to know where you would be going but still needed his money since you were a thirteen year old with no job or an allowance.
Thankfully Bruce just signed it without looking when Alfred showed him some random papers and off you went to your new life in Star City.
As years passed you became more social since you weren't held down by the neglect of the Waynes and you were around people who actually sought you out and didn't completely ignore you.
You kept dancing and sent all of yours training practices, plus all your small and big dance recitals to Alfred so he could see you dance since he couldn't come to every single one of them and you didn't blame him.
When you turned 15 you found a part-time job at a science company where they allowed you to work on your experiments with the supervision of an another scientist.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) you got bit by a radioactive spider that escaped from the same scientist who was supposed to supervise you and gave you the spider abilities.
Which did worry you but you learned to control your newfound superhuman strenght and also your weird sticking to surfaces and walking on walls.
Did it take a while? Yes, but it was worth it.
You also decided to become a vigilante because why not? Why not put your life in danger every night just to not receive any money compensation from it?
You're not as active as your alterego in Gotham since you actually have friends here and you're not held down by years of neglect which pushed you to help people.
You helped people whenever you could and one night, during a patrol you accidentally bumped into Green Arrow and fought with him for a while before both of you realised neither of you two were villains.
You did apologise and after a few more encounters and you pulling some pranks on Oliver because he was an easy target to prank, like come on. The man wears green and has an arrow. You can't not prank that man and call him Robin Hood.
You became his little helper, got his phone number and helped him with some villains whenever you could and especially if he let you.
You also trained your fighting with him, which got you beat up and with so many black eyes that you had to beg him to not hit your face since you couldn't keep worrying your friends and dance instructor since they were starting to ask questions and you couldn't fool them forever.
You also met Roy, aka Speedy, while on a mission with Oliver and also got along with him despite his hatred for Oliver and gained a new older brother.
After a year of helping Oliver around and training to fight decently and not only use your superhuman strenght, he finally let you come to a Justice League meeting.
You met Batman and Damian there, along with Superman and Jon to which you tried to get along with but the two of them were extremely clingy and knew a bit too much about you which creeped you out.
During the meeting you stayed very close to Oliver to avoid the two teens and also hide from Batman and Superman since they kept staring at you even while talking.
After the meeting Batman did try to approach you and you avoided him, but while walking away he just said "(Y/N)", which made you stop before walking off.
You immediately knew that he knew who you were under the mask but you didn't care that he knew.
You just ignored him and his calls, plus his sons calls. You refused to even give him a bit of attention, especially since he didn't bother you for years but now they wanted your attention?
God no, you still had dignity and self respect. Giving them attention would be like forgiving them for all those years of not even knowing you existed.
Finally the calls stopped but they started to appear everywhere you went in Central City.
You went to school? You were called in the principal office where Bruce was and scolded you lightly about putting your mother's last name when it should have been his.
Your hand started to bleed from how hard you were gripping it so you wouldn't yell at the man in front of the principal.
What you hated more was the look of love Bruce had when he scolded you, gently patting your head as he talked.
You showered at least three times before you finally felt clean after feeling Bruce touch you so lovingly.
Everywhere you went as you or as Spider, you would be met by either Bruce or one of his kids, which got even more frustrating when they would try to coax you to come back home to Gotham.
Dick would try to coax you, too into his delusional idea that you were being forced to stay here with Green Arrow even though you told him many times that it wasn't true.
He would also manipulate you by fake crying whenever you yelled at him or ignored him, making you even more frustrated because he kept on caring about himself and didn't see how you were happy in Star City.
Jason would just follow you and talk like you never left, complaining about Bruce or Damian and offered to go to a café or restaurant to catch up and see what you were up to.
Even yelling at him that he didn't care when you left didn't budge him and made him give up. No, it made him even more persistent on trying to act like you two were close and a happy family.
You also had to slam the door in Tim's face so many times whenever he would knock at the door of your apartment, you had to replace the doorknob and locks too many times to count from Tim picking the locks and you destroying the doorknob from your strenght.
Plus, arriving home to relax and seeing both Tim and Bruce in your apartment with dinner made you sick but you had to endure since you couldn't afford to change apartments since it was in the best position in the city.
Oh but Damian was the worst. He would act like he never hurt you sometimes or other times used his own past as a way to show that he had it worse than you.
Did you throw him off a building when he said that? Yes but unfortunately for you, Jon was there to catch him which made you even more frustrated.
Clark? He was decent sometimes, you met him before when he talked with Oliver and you were around but you always got a creepy vibe from him.
Especially when he kept on staring at you or gave you things like small trinkets you saw but never bought. It was so creepy that he knew what you liked, plus he kept on calling you nicknames like a father would do to his child.
Jon wasn't that bad. He did leave you alone when you asked but he also helped you. The only problem was that he acted like you were his older brother/sister and talked about times you two were together when you distinctly remember being alone when you did those things.
You did call Alfred once, he was the only one you told that you were Spider since he kept on asking why you were always full of bruises on your face and arms and you couldn't lie to him.
The call did not go well, with you yelling at Alfred that he ruined it since now Bruce knew who you were and he ruined your once happy life just because he wanted you back home.
After a while of seeing Bruce and his kids and them trying to manipulate you into going back home, plus Clark and Jon, you decided to go to the only person you trusted the most in Star City.
You went to Green Arrow and confessed to everything, you told him about your mother's death and how you were suddenly sent to a family who couldn't care less about you.
You didn't hide that you were Bruce's biological child and also showed him your scars that Damian made in the year he tormented you.
At the end of the confession you were crying, the memories of Damian hurting you with all the neglect and blatant hatred towards you made you breakdown in an ugly cry.
You kept crying even when Oliver hugged you, hugging him back with all your might as you didn't want him to leave you.
You did admit that you thought many times on going back since they kept on insisting and you weren't that strong, you couldn't resist forever with all that pressure.
By saying that, you felt Oliver freeze for a second before hugging you back and holding you close, like you hugging him with your super strength didn't faze him one bit.
What you didn't feel was the tiny prick of a needle being inserted in your neck, the only thing you last heard before collapsing in Oliver's arms were "sorry kid, can't let you leave me"
#yandere x reader#platonic yandere#yandere batman#yandere#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batboys#batman#yandere batfamily#batboys x reader#batfam#yandere tim drake#tim drake#nightwing#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#jason todd#yandere damian wayne#damian wayne#yandere bruce wayne#bruce
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You still want me? (Patrick Zweig)
Description: Even after 13 years Patrick still wants her.
Warning: Smut
Word Count:2,288k
Y/N laughed at Patrick’s pathetic attempts to sleep with her. He tried every second he could. Art was always weirded out by it and gave him a look. Sure, Y/N was hot but she wasn’t an object for sex and that’s what Art thought that Patrick thought of her. Y/N rolled her eyes as they sat in their hotel room drinking. “Patrick, that was weak.” “Yeah, really.” Patrick glared at his best friend, “Like you could do better?” He asked, Art nodded. “I very well could but I have a girlfriend that I love so.” Patrick flipped him off and turned back to Y/N, “So where were we?” She laughed at his question. “You were trying to fuck me, I am trying to relax.” “Well I could help you relax more.”
These weak attempts to sleep with her went on for years. Art and Tashi rolled their eyes as he said anything and everything he could to convince her. She never said No but she never said yes either. She ended up going to a different college than Art and Tashi and since Patrick didn’t go to college he never saw her. It wouldn’t be until Patrick and Art were in the challengers that he would see her again. Tashi invited her as a surprise. Sure Art and Patrick were facing one another but they were still friends.
And Tashi knew how bad Patrick wanted her. Y/N was still super hot and even more mature now that 10 years have gone by. Y/N walked through the doors of the hotel that Tashi sent her. It was a nice one, a very nice one. She looked around and saw Tashi by the elevator. She gasped and waved as Tashi waved back just as excited. Y/N ran over to her and gave her a big hug, “Oh I missed you.” “I missed you too.” After their little moment they got in the elevator. “So how’s everything been?” Tashi asked. Y/N smiled and looked at her, “Pretty good.” “Have a boyfriend?” Y/N laughed at the question and shook her head No.
Tashi thought that was perfect especially for Patrick. As the exited the elevator to her room Y/N asked her, “So does he still talk about me?” Referring to Patrick. Tashi smiled, “Here and there. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” Y/N smiled at the thought. She kinda missed all his horrible ways of trying to sleep with her. “They are currently practicing. Settle in some and we will go down there.” Tashi said.
They walked to the court were the two boys or now men practiced. Y/N smiled as Art came into view. He still looked the same, just shorter hair and more muscle. She then saw Patrick and dear god she couldn’t believe it. He had facial hair now and damn did he look good. Tashi and Y/N stood by the seats watching them. They hadn’t noticed that they were watching them until Tashi cheered, “Go Art!” “Go Patrick!” Y/N yelled and Patrick looked over at her and froze. “Y/N?” He whispered in shock. Y/N waved at him, he totally missed the ball and Art would have gotten the point. Art looked over and smiled at Y/N.
They both walked over to the ladies, “What are you doing here?” He asked, so happy to see her. “I came to watch you guys play.” He smiled at her words. “You two should catch up, Art and I are going to go.” Tashi said, dragging Art away. That was her plan the entire time. Get them alone and see where it goes. “So you wanna go over to the bar and catch up?” He asked. She nodded and smiled.
“So this is what you’ve been up to all these years?” She asked, he nodded. “Yup. Just Tennis.” “Sounds awesome. Art and you against each other? That’s going to be crazy.” She said, “ Yeah but you’ll be rooting for me.” He joked. She laughed and sat her drink down. “Maybe. How would your girlfriend feel about that?” He chuckled, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Her jaw dropped. “What?” He asked, she shook her head. “You look like that and you don’t have a girlfriend?” “Look like what?” “Hot.” She motioned to him.
“You look hot.” God his younger self would be freaking out right now. Who was he kidding? He was freaking out now. “You think I'm hot?” He asked, scooting closer to her. “You’ve always been hot.” She said, looking at him. “Then how come you never slept with me?” He asked. She shrugged, “You just didn't have game.” She laughed. “What if I have game now?” She picked up her drink and took a sip of it without breaking eye contact. “You still want me? After all these years?” She asked. “Are you kidding me? Of course I do. A change of heart was never in my plans.” She turned to him, “Then I guess I’d have to sleep with you Patrick.” She said softly.
He walked her back to her hotel room that Tashi gladly paid for. She turned towards the man and smiled, “This is me.” She said and he chuckled. He turned towards her, “Just like old times, eh?” She laughed and shook her head. He always used to walk her to her room and then try to sleep with her as if he wasn’t already on the way to the room. “Pretty much.” He looked down and Y/N’s face dropped.
He hadn’t tried to sleep with her yet and it bugged her. She actually would right now. “Patrick.” She whispered. He looked up at her. “Come inside.” She told him. As soon as she got the door open he picked her up and turned her around, making her gasp. He pinned her up against the door. She stared at him wide eyed as he stared back. Her breathing started to pick up, her heart started beating. He leaned in slowly causing her eyes to wander towards his lips until they touched hers.
She kissed back and it felt amazing. Her hands wrapped themselves around his head and laced through his hair. He deepened the kiss, pushing her more against the door. Their lips moved against each other until the air ran out of their lungs. But even then when he pulled away her lips followed wanting more of the kiss. “Patrick, please.” She whispered. He smirked, happy that he finally had her right where he wanted. Her legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer to her. He chuckled and kissed her again.
He moved her away from the door and on the bed. They broke apart from the kiss again, this time to remove clothes. It was like they couldn’t get their clothes off fast enough. He pushed her down on the bed once they were bare. She fell back and looked up at him. He smirked as he ran his fingers up her legs to her thighs. Her breathing picked up as he neared her pussy. He decided to tease her and not touch her where she wants, no needs him. “Patrick, don't tease me.” She whined. “Oh I can’t tease you but you’ve been teasing me for the past 10 years?” He asked with a fake pout. She huffed out as he smirked.
That damn smirk, it was so sexy and perfect. He finally dragged a finger up her slit, causing her to moan. “Oh that sound was perfect.” He said and did it again. She moaned again. He decided that he wanted to hear more of her moans so he stopped teasing her and began rubbing her clit. The sweet moans fell from her lips as he toyed with her. Her hips lifting up trying to get more of his touch. He chuckled as he watched her do so. He got on his knees and decided he wanted to taste her. She felt his breath on her pussy making her lean up on her elbows to see what he was doing. He gave her his famous smirk before he gave her slit a big lick.
She gasped at the feeling of his tongue on her and that encouraged him to continue. Her hands laced through his hair as he ate her out. He was really good at it but he’s been with so many women so that didn’t surprise her. He felt like he had died and gone to heaven. This was his dream and it was coming true. “You taste so fucking good. Better than anything i’ve ever had.” He groaned. Her whines and moans got louder as the vibrations of his words went to her core. “Patrick.” She moaned loudly. He loved the sound of her voice especially with his name falling from her lips. When she came, it was a lot and all over his face. He lapped it up like a puppy dog.
She had to push his face away from how sensitive she was getting. Once she calmed herself from her orgasm she opened her eyes to see the man with a smirk and his face wet from her juices. She leaned up to his face and kissed him, moaning at the taste on his lips. His beard was wet with her but he didn’t mind one bit. Without breaking the kiss he crawled over her and hooked one of her legs over his hip. She gasped against his lips as she felt his dick run up against her clit. “I want you to beg for me to be inside of you like all those years I begged to be inside of you.” He said against her lips before moving down to her neck. She moaned lightly as he sucked on her. Her breathing is still not steady from her orgasm.
“Patrick please I want you inside of me.” She said, he hummed against her and pulled away. “I said beg not tell me.” He told her. She whined at the need for him to be inside of her. “Please Patrick, I want your big dick inside of me.” She begged, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “You can do better than that. Even I did.” She wanted to roll her eyes but held that back to beg him once again. Once again it just didn’t work causing him to laugh. Of course he wanted to be inside of her but he wanted her to want him just as much as he wanted her. “Patrick I want you inside of me so bad. I need it. I’ve always needed it ever since I've met you. Patrick please.” She whined. “Perfect.” He said before pushing inside of her. She moaned loudly. He was big, bigger than any other guy she’s been with. He cupped her face, “You feel fucking amazing baby. I’m right where I belong.” He tells her as he starts thrusting.
His words and praises made her wetter. So wet that you could hear it. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of this moment. That was a mistake because the second he closed his eyes she flipped them over and now she was on top riding him. He let out a moan as he saw her tits bouncing. “So you wanted me to beg just for you to fuck me like that?” She asked. “I wanted you to fuck me Patrick, fuck me like you’ve waited 10 years for this pussy.” She said. “I have.” He groaned out. Her on top actually made this a lot better for him. He leaned up and shoved his face in her tits and she rode him.
Both of them making their own noises of pleasure. The feeling of his beard on her nipple tickled but she loved it. Her hands moved to his head to hold him there. She threw her head back and enjoyed the moment. It wasn’t that much time before she was clenching around him like crazy. He pulled away from her tits to look at her face. She opened her eyes to look at him. “Are you close?” He asked through a groan. She nodded and whined. “Yes.” “I want to watch you fall apart.” He told her. She whined at his words and her breathing picked up. She was so close to the edge.
He leaned back and laid down as he watched her fall apart. Her jaw dropped and she cried out cries of his name as he felt her drench his cock. Her eyes rolled back and her hips stuttered. She looked so fucked out and so beautiful. “Fuck.” He breathed out. She was still riding him, helping him reach his orgasm. He wasn’t a noisy guy during sex but she was making it hard. “Why are you holding back? You sound hot Patrick.” She told him, running her fingers down his chest. He started twitching inside of her. “Give it to me Patrick. Let go for me.” She said and he did what she told him to. He whined her name as he came inside of her.
She let him ride out his orgasm before she collapsed next to him. Both of them panting and sweating. He chuckled and looked over at her, “What’s so funny?” She asked. “I just fucked my dream girl.” “Well she fucked you.” Y/N pointed out. “Either way.” She turned towards him and smiled. “So now that you’ve fucked your dream girl, what’s next?” He pulled her closer, “I plan to wife her up.” He said and she smiled. “Your dream girl could get down with that.” She said to him with a laugh. He leaned in and kissed her, remembering to thank Tashi later for this experience.
#challengers movie#challengers 2024#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig x you#tashi duncan#art donaldson#mike faist#josh o'connor#zendaya
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Keith presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and exhales deeply. He lets all the air trickle out of his lungs until his chest feels concave, until spots dance behind his closed eyelids, until his lips start to go numb. Then he lets go and lets the air get sucked back into him like a vacuum.
“One more try,” he whispers to himself, conscious of Lance sleeping — finally — beside him. “One, and then we move on.”
He swipes the touchpad on his computer to wake it back up, dragging the blinking curser over the rarely-used blue ‘10’ under the Google logo. The page loads, and loads, and loads, and finally spits out the next few results.
Most of them he’s already seen before. Dozens of times. BARGAIN BALLET TICKET SUBSCRIPTION, reads one link, CLICK HERE FOR 20% OFF YOUR FIRST MONTH. Another reads, Rush Ticket Prices — Buy Now!
He’s been there. Clicked that. Priced it out. Looked at the worst possible, next-to-the-washrooms, garbage seats. Nothing. Not a single ticket within their limited budget — or even close to it.
Completely out of the realm of possibility even if they hadn’t agreed on a price limit for their Christmas gifts.
He keeps scrolling down a few pages that all advertise the same thing — a disgustingly costly subscription here, bargain-but-not-really tickets there, more scammy resell ads than one would believe possible. Even, notably, a still-active link from 1997 that Keith peruses for clicks and does not actually count towards his one-more-try limit. (It even tries to accept his Paypal, which is crazy and means that someone updated the site to accept modern payment for a show that is no longer running. Keith is so amused by the pure audacity that he has to fight the urge to buy one. Wild thing, ADHD.)
Just as he’s about to give up and buy his boyfriend yet another plant this year, a link catches his attention. It’s the very last result on page 13, with no description, no punctuation, hell, hardly even a sentence of text. Nutcracker ticket sales, it reads, for a website called ‘FeuillesBrillantAcademie.org’.
Keith shrugs. Might as well. Not like anything else has been promising.
He clicks the link and immediately wishes he hadn’t. The ugliest website he’s ever seen literally assaults his eyes — a bright blue and a neon purple, clashing in the worst possible way. It takes at least four solid seconds for his eyes to unblur enough to recognise the screen in front of him as having words rather than a solid wall of Bright And Bad. Even then, he has to squint, glasses practically touching his eyeballs.
Feuilles Brillant Academy is pleased to present the final performance of the hard-working dancers this season, is what he can finally make out. The show begins at 7 p.m. on December 23rd, tickets for $20 per person. In-person payment not accepted. Please pay via e-transfer using the link below. Call out administrative office if there are any difficulties.
Keith stares at the page for as long as his eyes can handle, then he looks up at the ceiling. (Where, he may add, he can still see the screen perfectly, because the damn thing has been burnt onto his retinae. He will never mock Matt for his web design degree again. Well, probably.)
This seems…too good to be true.
It’s outrageously cheap, for one. Keith has been looking for literal days and the cheapest he’s managed to find is $50 per person, for bad rush tickets. $20 is bonkers. For two, this is a perfect time, and nearby, as well. And there are still tickets left. Somehow.
Something is amiss.
Keith’s first thought is that it’s a prank page. But the page is buried so deeply — page thirteen of Google. The hidden archives, basically. If this is someone’s prank, it’s garbage. His second thought is that the link is a virus, which, while possible, is still kind of unlikely for the same reasons. Why on Earth would someone post something nefarious so obscurely? It doesn’t make sense. This might be one of those rare times when something isn’t too good to be true, it’s just good.
Then again. Keith just got his laptop back from the last time he fucked around and well and truly Found Out.
Time to get a second opinion.
Despite the disgustingly late hour, the phone picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, stinky,” says Pidge. Keith can hear the smile in her voice as clearly as the explosions and gunfire of Call of Duty in the background.
“Asshole.”
“Turd for brains.”
“Skidmark.”
“Rotting splatter of parking lot vomit at three in the afternoon in Arizona during high summer.”
“…Pidge, that’s disgusting.”
She snickers. “I win.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Keith freezes as Lance stirs next to him, curling his arm around Keith’s bent leg and muttering something in Spanish too fast for him to understand. Keith smiles, tucking a stray curl back under his fluffy frog-eye hairband, lingering over the scar on his temple from a skateboarding accident when they were fifteen. “I need your help.”
“Well, obviously. You’re calling me at three thirty four in the morning. Usually you’re in bed by nine because secretly you look up to Adam and emulate his habits.”
Keith flushes. “I don’t remember ordering a psych analysis, fucker.”
“Consider it a bonus! Tell Auntie Pidge about your troubles.” He can practically see the face she makes immediately after, and snorts. “Ignore that. My mouth is not attached to my brain. Carry on.”
“I need you to check out a link,” Keith says, choosing to be merciful. “It’s pretty buried and obscure, but honestly I think it’s fine —”
“Yeah, last time you thought a link was fine you fucked your shit up so bad I had to download another virus to cancel it out. I’ve never had to do that before. You fucked your laptop up so bad I’d actually never seen that kind of damage before, Kogane. And I do this for a living.”
Keith pouts. “No, you commit cyber crimes for a living.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m an angel and have never gotten so much as a speeding ticket. I am a law abiding citizen. Send over the link.”
Switching his phone to rest between his ear and shoulder, Keith does. “I need to know if the link does what it says it does.”
Pidge hums. He can hear the ding of her laptop as his e-mail goes through, and then the sounds of her clicking as she inspects the website, running it through her various programs that Keith cannot fathom for the life of him.
“What did you say you were looking for, again?”
Keith closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting it thunk gently on the thin wall under the big window, in the corner of the apartment where they’ve shoved their bed. He lets his eyes go blurry, lets the stars they stuck on the ceiling before they did anything else turn into bright green dots. They’re real constellations. The two of them spent hours on them; Lance on Keith’s shoulders, tripping and shouting and laughing.
“I need tickets,” Keith says quietly. He turns his gaze slowly to Lance, who is sleeping soundly again, who has bags under his eyes, whose hands twitch every few seconds, who frowns deeply. “And we can’t — these are the only ones I could find. That I can even pretend to afford. I need it to be —” He swallows. “I need you to tell me they’re real.”
Pidge is quiet for a moment. The only sound is her breathing, her nail tapping slowly on the edge of her screen.
“The link is exactly what it says it is.”
Keith sits up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, man.”
Keith bites back a cheer so he doesn’t wake Lance up. Hell yeah! This is perfect! Exactly what they needed! Just — a little bit of luck. A little bit.
“Thank you, Pidge,” he gushes, hurrying to punch in his information. “Seriously.”
Pidge huffs fondly. “Okay, dweebus. Gross. Go be all affectionate somewhere else.” She pauses. “Take a picture when you tell him.”
Keith smiles. “I will.”
———
It takes every inch of Keith’s willpower to keep his mouth shut for a whole three weeks.
“I Know you are hiding something, Kogane,” Lance says while walking home from classes, while curling up into him as they watch TV, while cooking, while showering. “I see it in your face.”
“It’s nearly Christmas, you dweebus,” Keith says every time, and every time he softens it with an exaggerated kiss to Lance’s cheek, one to make him laugh despite himself and shove Keith’s face away. “Of course I’m hiding something.”
But it’s eating at them both. Lance’s blatant curiously makes it that much harder for Keith to keep things hidden, to stash the tickets between the pages of his corniest romance novel that Lance won’t touch with a ten foot pole. To wait, and wait, and wait, as they set up the three-foot high discounted Christmas tree and Lance changes their sheets to the flannel ones his mother gave them.
But the days pass. Finals come and go and so does the time. And finally, finally, it comes time to crawl onto the creaky mattress, knees on either side of Lance, nose kisses down his neck, and murmur, “We’ve got plans today.”
Lance groans. “No we do not.”
Keith smiles widely. He knows Lance can feel it, because he scowls harder, trying to hide his own fondness even as he melts into Keith’s affections.
“Yes, we do. I know. I planned them.”
“Well, then, un-plan them,” Lance grouches. He turns over so he’s facing Keith, now, trying hard to glare up at him, but late afternoon sunlight bleeds into his dark brown eyes and makes them shine golden, and they are as warm and bright as the rest of him, and his hands slide up Keith’s chest, over his shoulders, brushing through his hair, to rest on his cheeks. “Come nap with me.”
Keith turns his head to press a kiss to Lance’s palm, keeping his mouth there. Lance rolls his eyes, and can no longer hide his smile. “Later. I made plans. Dress up, I’m gonna pick us up some food for the way. We’ll leave in forty minutes.”
“Ugh.”
“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, baby. I can see you eyeing the closet.”
“Shut up and get me a burrito.” He soothes the bite of his words by pulling Keith’s face closer to his, pressing their lips together softly. “Please.”
“Whatever you want.”
God, he’s whipped, and Lance knows it, because he grins, pleased, and pulls Keith even closer, kisses him stronger. It takes Keith a good five minutes to muster up the willpower to pull away, and Lance knows it, smirking.
He finally manages to yank himself away, stumbling backwards towards the kitchenette of their studio. Lance pouts at him.
“Menace,” Keith says sternly, deliberately turning away as he pulls on his boots and coat. He ignores his boyfriend’s grumbling and finally makes it out the door, hustling to their favourite bodega and hoping it isn’t too crowded.
Thirty-seven minutes later, burritos secured, Keith is shoving his frozen fingers around the door handle to jimmy it open. The bodega was indeed crowded and they are indeed late. The show starts in an hour. From what Keith remembers from Lance’s recitals — and he has been to many — people who are late are people who miss the show. The ballet does not fuck around with tardiness and disruptions; if you’re late, that’s tough shit for you. Plan better.
“You’re going to eat shit,” Lance says, amused, the fourth time Keith power walks right over black ice and nearly actually dies. “Slow down, babe.”
Keith does not.
“Can’t,” he huffs, keeping a half-eye on the pavement. A tourist walks into him, shoving him into Lance, who takes the opportunity to slide his hand into Keith’s back pocket and wink at him when his cheeks colour.
“Why can’t we slow down? Where are we going?”
“It’s like you don’t know what surprise means.”
“I do know. I also know that if I annoy anyone long enough they’ll snap so I’ll shut up.”
“Nah. I like it when you talk.”
He’d meant it as somewhat of a comeback, as a jab back to Lance’s teasing. But suddenly Lance stops, spine going rigid, something like shock flirting across his face for half a millisecond before he blinks it away and moves again. It happens so fast that Keith would almost be convinced he’d imagined it, except Lance’s cheeks are crimson.
Keith smiles. “Lance.”
“Shut up.”
“Babydoll.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m barely sayin’ anything, baby.”
“You are so fuckin — gay, you know that? God. Who fuckin — who says shit like that? Who on this Earth?”
Keith laughs, bending down to kiss right below Lance’s ear, to feel his flushed skin warm to frozen tip of his nose.
“You are so easily flattered.”
“Easily flatter this dick. How about that. Fuckin. Jerk.”
He lets Lance grouch at him, pleased and embarrassed about it, as he pulls them along the overcrowded streets. He checks his watch. Fifteen minutes ‘til the show starts, thirteen minutes ‘til they get there. Hopefully.
“Are we almost there? It’s cold and these shoes are pinchy.”
“I told you to wear comfortable shoes!”
“You told me to dress up! I can do one of those things, Akira!”
At the seven minute mark Keith starts running. Lance, surprisingly, doesn’t complain — a grin pulls at his sharp features, actually, and he wraps their hands together and runs faster, despite not knowing where they’re going. Every time they bump into someone in a suit he laughs. He laughs harder when they curse at him. Keith has to fight to keep his head in the game, to keep running, to not stop where he’s standing and watch Lance laugh for hours and hours and hours. It’s been too long.
He nearly pulls Lance’s arm out of his socket when he stops then abruptly, shouting “Here! Here! We’re here!” and pulling him inside a well-kept brownstone.
“Where’s…here?” Lance wonders, taking in the well-salted walkway and pretty red-and-green decorations all over the aged brick.
Keith doesn’t answer. “Close your eyes.”
Lance narrows his eyes. Keith makes his expression as wide and pleading as possible, and in seconds Lance caves, much to Keith’s satisfaction.
“You’re a pain in my neck.”
Keith kisses him quickly and chastely. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let me walk into anything.”
Satisfied that Lance won’t peek, Keith shuffles them over to the box office, holding out their tickets. The stewardess smiles at him, scanning them, eyes twinkling at Keith wordless plea for her to keep the secret, and gestures towards a grand set of doors.
“Up the stairs, to your left, seat and row on your ticket,” she murmurs. “Enjoy the show.”
Keith nods his thanks and rushes them off.
“This sounds very fancy,” Lance observes as their shoes click on the — literally marble, how the hell were these tickets $20 — floors. “Dangerously so.”
Keith shrugs. “Perhaps.”
“…Not to be. A bummer. But please tell me you remembered our budget, Keith.”
“I did, Lance. I swear.”
Lance relaxes into him, and Keith realises for the first time how tense he was. He winces to himself. He probably could have made things a tad less stressful and still kept the surprise. He’ll remember that for next year.
“Okay, good. I trust you.”
They barely make it to their seats in time. Keith’s butt barely makes contact with the cushioned chair before the lights dim and the orchestra starts tuning, the rest of the audience lapsing into almost immediate silence.
Lance inhales sharply. “Keith…?”
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
Lance does, and they’re wide, and his mouth drops open, slightly, and for a moment he just stares, frozen, at the stage and the lights and the set, the familiar set, as the dim light casts shadows onto his face. The orchestra’s tuning note reaches its satisfying peak, harmonizing as one sound, and Keith’s full attention is on the lines of Lance’s face, the set of his jaw, the curves of his cheekbones.
“Merry Christmas,” he says quietly.
Before he can say anything else, before Lance can say anything else, the familiar sound of pointe shoes tapping delicately across the stage steals Keith’s attention. He turns his eyes to the stage, watching the dancers strut on the stage, and — stops.
He leans forward, squinting.
What?
Keith is…very familiar with the Nutcracker. He’s grown up alongside Lance’s family since he was eight years old. He’s been to more recitals than he can count. He’s been dragged to more performances than he can ever remember. Lance has lived and breathed and loved ballet his whole damn life, for the entire time Keith has known him, and that love bled well outside of the studio, has lasted even after he aged out of the program last year. Keith knows how the Nutcracker begins, and nothing about the program said this one was supposed to be any different.
Half of the dancers walking onstage are significantly shorter than they should be.
Now he knows damn well that there are kids in the Nutcracker. The main character is a kid. That’s the whole deal.
But there is not one adult on that stage right now. Hell, not even a teenager.
Keith looks down at the ticket — Feuilles Brillant Academy. He looks back at the stage. He looks at the other audience members — lots and lots of people with camcorders. And other small children.
Keith sinks into his chair, head in his hands.
His dumb ass bough a ticket to a children’s ballet recital.
Lord above.
“Lance, I am so sorry,” he whispers, “I was so caught up in the ticket being in budget I didn’t bother actually, like, looking deeper into things, this is totally — Lance?”
Keith leans forward in alarm, hands immediately falling on Lance’s knee, on his back. His shoulders shake and his hands are pressed to his eyes.
“Shit, babe, I’m sorry,” Keith says desperately, embarrassment replaced with panic. Everything feels like it’s crashing down around him, as dramatic as that is. He’d been so excited for this. Now it’s a whole mess. “I didn’t mean to — fuck things up, shit, we can leave.”
Lance shakes his head. Blindly, he reaches over the grasps Keith’s hand, holding tightly. His own hand is damp from his tears.
“No, no, it’s — perfect,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I —”
His chin trembles, and more tears spill over his cheeks. As the music swells along to the climax of the first dance, Lance lifts the armrest separating their seats, half crawling over Keith until his head is tucked in the crook of Keith’s neck, arms folded between their chests, hands clutching at the fabric of his sweater. His voice is wet with tears and soaked in an emotion Keith can’t quite name, an almost — relief.
“It’s been so long. I didn’t want to — I thought I wouldn’t be able to do this again. I wouldn’t let myself think about it.”
Keith lets a huge, relieved exhale, sagging forward. He wraps himself more comfortably around Lance’s frame, squeezing him back, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.
Growing up has been…hard. For the both of them.
They’d been told by everyone who knew them that they were being stupid and reckless. Keith has been promised that they won’t last more than two years by almost every grownup he’s ever known. Even his own brother had sighed his trepidation when Keith told him, stubborn and bold-faced, that he was moving in with Lance, that they were going to start their lives together the second they pulled off their caps and gowns, that they were ready for the next step. That they were eighteen and ready to face the world.
“Sacrifices,” Shiro had warned, “are going to be half your life now. It’s not that I think you can’t, Keith. I just. There’s a reason people don’t move in with their highschool sweetheart they summer after they graduate. Katy Perry wrote a whole song about it. It’s a banger.”
Keith hates it when his brother is right, and this time he was right about so many things in consecutive order. Living on your own is hard. Learning to live with someone else is harder. Doing it in a city far away from home, while balancing school and work and rent and groceries, is the hardest.
“I miss dance,” Lance croaks, and Keith closes his eyes and breathes deeply and holds Lance tighter.
He knows Lance misses dance. He knows that he hasn’t so much as listened to a ballet since they moved to New York, unless it’s in the dead of night, and he thinks Keith is asleep, and he puts in his headphones and moves their furniture as silently as he can to the edges of their tiny ass studio apartment and laces up his falling-to-pieces pointe shoes and dances like the very act of it is tearing him apart, and cries the whole time. And then stashes his shoes in the bottom of his gym bag and crawls back into bed and pretends again in the morning that he left his pointes back in Arizona. And Keith looks away and lets him because school is already twenty thousand a year and in no shape or form can they afford that and money to rent a studio.
But Keith can give him this. For a little bit, maybe, even if it’s little kids with handmade costumes pirouetting across a stage.
“I know, bluebell.”
Lance exhales, shaky, breath ghosting across Keith’s collarbones, and finally turns back towards the stage, keeping tucked under Keith’s chin. The kids dancing as the Snow Queen’s ladies-in-waiting are — three years old, maybe. At most four. They keep twirling right into each other like clumsy little bumblebees. It’s maybe the cutest thing Keith has ever seen in his entire life, and what’s better is the tiny smile that graces Lance’s face, despite the tears, growing bigger every time one of them wobbles back up to their feet and prances on, oblivious.
They watch the rest of the play in silence, Lance hands entwining with his sometime around the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy and holding fast. They stand and clap as loudly as the gathered parents, louder even, at curtain call, as each kid jumps and twirls across the stage to thrown roses and cheering. It’s adorable.
They’re among the first to walk out, because the majority of the crowd surges towards backstage to collect their kid, so the walk is blessedly unrushed. They take their time, observing the pictures of grinning ballerinas that line the walls and numerous awards on endless shelves. Keith is filled with a deep and strong longing, a strange feeling of coming home — years of waiting on plastic chairs for Lance to finish solo practice when they were thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Of taking his boots off at the door and quietly sneaking in the back of the studio, ducking away from other dancers’ boring stares, to watch Lance shine under the studio lights, reflected a thousand times by mirrored walls. Of the smell of lemon cleaner and polished hardwood floors and satin.
He notices a poster on the wall, among dozens of drawings and pictures of intricate sets, and freezes.
“Lance,” he says, tilting his head, “look.”
At the end of a hallway, right next to a door, is a hand-painted banner, reading: WE’LL MISS YOU, MISS RAULA! HAPPY RETIREMENT!
He squeezes Lance’s hand. “I bet they’re looking for a replacement.”
Lance stares at the poster for a long time. “You think?”
“I think it wouldn’t hurt to shoot them an e-mail.”
Smiling, Lance stops them in the hallway, puts his hands on Keith’s shoulders, stands on his tiptoes, and kisses him, long and sweet and loving.
“I’m already in a pretty tight spot now,” he murmurs, still standing so close to Keith and smelling so sweet that he has trouble focusing on his words, “‘cause this is already kind of the best Christmas gift ever. If that ends up being true I’m never topping you again.”
Keith laughs, suddenly, not expecting the turn, and Lance grins, pulling Keith down to him and kissing him again. It’s less of a kiss and more of a press of smiles, a clack of teeth, a shared laugh.
“I love you, Lance. Merry Christmas. I will be the Gift Giving King forever.”
“Shut up, goober.” He lifts Keith’s arm, tucking himself under it as they walk back out into the snowy December night. “I love you too.”
———
based on this post (third slide)
#FUCK YEAH IM SO PROUD OF THIS ONE IT CAME OHT AS ID HOPED IT WOULD#vld#voltron#keith#keith kogane#lance#lance mcclain#klance#established klance#modern au#pidge#pidge holt#pidge & keith#dancer lance#whipped keith#brown eyed lance#adhd keith#soft keith#soft klance#langst#true love and christmas and the nutcracker bc i am a sentimental fool#this could be the applebees universe kind of but like an au of it lol#my writing#fic#longpost
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Freminet with a female reader who decides to do no but November with fremmi, poor thing can barely get through the day after only 2 weeks and has to beg.
freminet never heard of this before, maybe because before he met you he wasn't a guy who would be into these things, you were the person who brought that side out of him
not being able to cum or anything for a entire month? he's done it for years, he'll be fine, but freminet forgot that not only did you bring out his confidence, but you also make him very horny very easily
even at just day one he's struggling, forcing himself to look away from your suddenly revealing attire and his thoughts being unfriendly
on day two he swears you start wearing less clothes, it's cold outside but he feels like he's overheating, the days only get worse
a week in he's so painfully hard he almost gives up when he's all alone under the water, sometimes his thigh brushes up against even just a thing of seaweed and he flinches
he has to start thinking about embarrassing things to keep himself calm, forcing his mind to rid of his thoughts of just getting pinned down and fucked by you...
he wishes you lose first, and you pin him down and just take him as you wish, he quickly has to stop himself because even the fabric of his boxers are starting to get to him
13 days in he's shoving his face in his pilow, after a rough day and all he wants is you to fuck his brains out, he needs to feel you wrapped around him, he's never felt so desperate before
it's only two weeks in where he calls it quits, when he comes home he made the mistake of going into your room without knocking, catching you undressing and he just couldn't control himself anymore
he practically fell to his knees in front of you, holding onto your legs with a pathetic look in his eyes "y/n, please please...i can't take it anymore...i-i need...i need you, please?"
you crossed your arms and looked away, faking disinterest "oh, i don't kno-" "please please please..." he whimpered "it hurts...i need you so badly, please!" he shoved his face in your thighs, inhaling softly "please..."
you would feel bad if he didn't look so sexy begging like that "okay, fine" he kissed your thighs and backed you up against the bed, pushing you down and leaning forward, his tongue dipping out to lap at your folds
even when he was practically going to cry from how hard he was he still focused on your pleasure first
he moaned, humming deliciously as he licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers moving delicately inside of you, he had one hand on your thigh to keep you spread for him
your soft sighs and moans encouraged his fingers to move faster, breathing heavily into your folds like he was getting pleasured instead
he sucked up every last bit of your juices, his eyes rolling back as he gets what he craved for what felt like years, he lapped every bit of your cum and came back up, straddling your waist
he had the temptation to just grind into you and cum in his boxers he was so desperate, but he needed to feel you, he kissed your neck as his shorts became undone, letting his cock spring free and slap against your stomach
he groaned into your neck and spread your legs further, letting it soak in your wetness for a second before sliding in, he gasped and shut his eyes at the overwhelming sensation, his hands gripping the sheets besides you
"hngh...y/n...fuck... you're perfect, oh god..." he whimpered as he took what he needed, his hips snapping towards yours with abandon, his mouth open in a string of moans, including your name as he fucked you, his hand moving to your waist to keep you still
"fuck, please please please..." he pleaded desperately even though he himself didn't know what he was begging for, your pussy sucked him in and he felt like he was in celestia "y/nn...ahng~!"
he let out a loud moan, his chest heaving as he pressed against you firmly, you could feel his release seeping into you, he looked down with his eyes closed, breathing heavily as he let his fingers work your clit to bring you to your high again
he leaned on top of you, panting heavily as he kissed you as soft as he could "thank you...but let's not ever do that again..." his voice was whiny, feeling exhausted as he let his long awaited orgasm wash over him
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact smut#freminet x reader#freminet x female reader#freminet smut
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The Truth Untold
CEO! Jeonghan
Y/n’s son goes missing and there’s only 13 suspects that last seen her son. One of them happens to be her husband, Jeonghan.
Bad clue inspired
It has been approximately three months since Jeongmin was last seen. Y/n was restless. Her beautiful baby boy was missing and she was a wreck. What made it worse was that fact that her husband, CEO Yoon Jeonghan, was not really bothered by the fact that he was missing.
Where was the caring father that he showed Jeongmin? Where the loving man that put his family first?
She was anxious and nervous by this. It’s as if her status as a detective meant nothing in this moment. The court and other officials forbade her from digging into the case. This was a family related case and she wasn’t allowed to have any bias towards anyone.
That caused her to get even more mad. No matter what, she’ll find her precious baby boy.
. . .
She decided to visit an old friend. A friend that go way beyond her and Jeonghan’s history together.
“Hmm~ What’s this? Miss goodie two shoes at my office~?”
She looked almost defeated as she had to ask him for help.
“Seokjin, please help me”
Kim Seokjin. A man that has so many underground connections, that even he forgets who he knows. They coincidentally met one night when his wife was kidnapped and he had to turn to a real detective instead of intel from the mafia organizations. Her time and devotion to find his wife was admirable to him that he kept her around for certain small tasks. However, Y/n distances herself from him as the rise of scandals among officials were coming out at a rapid speed. She didn’t want to harm her or his reputation so she kept a safe distance from him. His, obnoxious behavior, seems to have never changed like all those years ago.
“My, my~ you seem so desperate. What’s the special occasion~?”
She looked to the side and sighed. She didn’t want to regret this but he was making a bit difficult to not.
“My son is missing and the court is not really taking it seriously.”
His eyebrow quirked up as he smirked slightly.
“So I’ve heard. Well then, what’s my repayment?”
“Jin, you still owe me for helping you find your wife all those years ago”
He heartily laughed as his smirked broadens.
“You’re right I suppose. However, your husband is a very powerful man. If we get caught, it’ll only plummet you and your career as detective. I’m protected by Mafia Law. Only you know how your husband acts so proceed with caution. You’re aware of all this right?”
She nodded. “I know. I’m ready to take any precautions moving forward. Just please help me find him”
“Very well then Miss Y/n, it’s a pleasure to work with you again.”
He shook her hand to seal the deal.
. . .
It’s been officially four months since her son has been missing. Her and Jin were able to list out 13 possible candidates that could’ve known what happened to her son.
One and two. Choi Seungcheol and Lee Jihoon.
Business partners and close childhood friends. Stick together like glue and never make a decision without consulting each other. They own the music academy that Jeongmin used to attend.
Three and four. Lee Seokmin and Boo Seungkwan.
Both music teachers at Jeongmin’s music academy. Jeongmin often spent extra time after classes to stay with either one of them for extra practice.
Five. Seo Myungho.
His personal bodyguard slash butler that has been assigned by Jeonghan to protect Jeongmin. He’s almost everywhere with Jeongmin and does almost everything with him.
Six and seven. Lee Chan and Kwon Soonyoung.
Both run a dance studio that the music teachers frequent. They’ve been seen with Jeongmin plenty of times.
Eight and nine. Joshua Hong and Hansol Chwe.
They both are assistants to Yoon Jeonghan and Lee Jihoon respectively. They seems to be very close despite working at two separate companies.
Ten. Jeon Wonwoo.
Personal tutor and mentor of Jeongmin. Spend a lot of time with Jeongmin after school and often takes him out for ice cream as a reward.
Eleven and twelve. Kim Mingyu and Moon Junhwi.
Personal chefs at the Yoon residents. Often seen with Jeongmin making dinner or desserts. They always take him out to fields and farms to let him pick fresh vegetables and fruits of his liking.
Thirteen. Yoon Jeonghan.
Jeongmin’s father and Y/n’s Husband. A wealthy and power man that over looks almost all of Korea’s wealth. His influence is unmatched and he knows it. He was the last official person to ever see Jeongmin before he went missing.
. . .
She dissected through their entire schedule. Making notes and comments about their daily lives. She needs to see a solid pattern before making any assumptions about any of them. Her increasing anxiety was keeping her on edge.
Jeonghan seemed to have noticed this slight change in her. He watched her look out into the calm and cool night from the balcony. He hugged her from behind and rested his chin in her neck.
“You okay baby?”
She only hummed a response and continue looked at the night scene.
“You know everyone’s trying their best to find Jeongmin. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. He’ll be back before you know it.” He says as he gently kissed down her neck.
“Are they really? It’s been four months Jeonghan. I want my son now.”
“Shh, honey. He’ll be back before we even know it. We’ll see the truth behind his disappearance and everything will be fine”
Oh, how true this statement is. However, the outcome is not what is to be expected.
. . .
Her eyes raked through the various pages of information about these men. Their every move and decision was document. What was the cause of this?
How are these men connected?
Do they really know what happens to Jeongmin?
These questions and thoughts are flooding her brain. She constantly is reminded that her beautiful son is not with her and it kills her everyday.
Her husband doesn’t seem to be bothered by their son’s disappearance. It irks her so much as he doesn’t care about their only son’s disappearance.
. . .
Hi! This is my first time doing any type of series! I really like the bad clue series from going seventeen and I wanted to make something inspired by it. This had been in my draft for months now and I just wanted to get something out already, lol. I honestly don’t know how long this will take, or how many parts there might be. So, I hope you enjoy as I write this.
Thank you ♡
#svt jeonghan#jeonghan x reader#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan#seventeen jeonghan#jeonghan x y/n#seventeen x reader#svt joshua#seungkwan#svt dino#svt junhui#dokyeom#jihoon x reader#svt vernon#seventeen#seventeen hoshi#svt hoshi#svt jun#svt scoups#vernon x reader#svt jeon wonwoo#svt kim mingyu#svt minghao#svt woozi#jihoon#dino x y/n#lee chan#svt wonwoo#svt dk#seventeen angst
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Sea Legs
Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader
Rating/Content Warnings: definitely PG/PG-13 at most, wholesome fluff. Implied soft!dom Sanji but like you can read it without that tbh, he's just being assertive. But like...we know.
Summary: request for @justyouraveragefangirl1967 - soft!dom Sanji taking care of Reader with chronic pain
Disclaimer(s): first and foremost, I personally am not someone who suffers with chronic pain, but I tried to write this as accurately as possible with feedback from a friend who does. It's still entirely possible that I got a few things wrong because the closest personal experience I could draw from was the pain that comes with hypermobility. That all being said, I hope I did it justice <3
It's far past the crack of dawn, and yet the sun rolls over you like a new discovery- unpleasant, if only for the moment.
You don't do much but groan at first, slinging your arm across your face as the sound quickly dissolves into a whine, the ship already tossing. The gentle movement, which you would normally find incredibly soothing, makes your stomach roil. It takes a few moments of unplacable, vague discomfort before the reason why registers in your mind.
Ah, that, you think as teeth bare in a hiss.
There's an empty ache running down your legs, dull but no more awful for it, twinging like the joints in your knees, hips need to crack but won't.
You allow yourself a moment to wallow before taking a deep breath, swinging your legs over the side of the bed with as little actual movement from them as possible. It won't be that bad, it won't be that bad, it won't be that-
A whimper escapes parted lips when you put your weight on them to stand, steadying your wobbling self on your nightstand. It is just as bad as you expected it to be, as bad as it always was on days like this, but you knew that allowing yourself that white lie was the only way you'd get out of bed at all.
The ship sways underneath you again and this time the bed isn't there to catch you, the movement sending you stumbling slightly for balance in a way that shoots pins and needles up your legs, a different kind of pain that came with taking your first steps when you got like this.
It got easier after a few minutes of walking around. Kinda.
(It did not.)
Before you had decided to join the crew of the Merry, your friends had teased in that knowing way that only friends can, even with dark subjects, that you'd need to find your sea legs first. You'd laughed and told them you hadn't even found your land legs yet.
The memory is fleeting and it isn't long before you've (mostly) stabilized yourself, albeit painfully. You lurch to your dresser, throwing on something new enough to hopefully not look as rumpled as you felt, and practice your walking on the way to the door.
Step, breathe, step, breathe- one foot in front of the other.
When trembling hands find the doorknob you tell yourself that the shaking is only from being tired. You never were a morning person. It doesn't take too many tries before you manage to open it, each step you take getting steadily more practiced and confident, despite the gritted teeth hidden behind your lips.
It's as close to normal walking as you can manage by the time you emerge in the galley, an imitation learned from years of practice. Your knees feel like they'll give out but you know they won't, not for a few hours or so.
For now, you are normal.
Or as close to it as you can manage.
"The fuck are you doing?"
It isn't even a second after stepping into the room that you hear the voice, the solitary other person in the galley with you. The usually honeyed tone is, despite remaining gentle, firmer than you're used to. It's a tone of voice you've only ever heard from the blond-haired man in...other situations.
Ah, right. Him.
Him, who knew too much, saw too much with eyes far too pretty, paid enough attention to notice things about you that you hadn't yet. The ever-present thorn in your side. Though maybe that was too harsh a word for a man as warm or soft as Sanji.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just getting breakfast-"
An unfortunately timed rock of the ship sends you stumbling, disrupting your steps that are just light enough because they're practiced, has your feet landing too hard in a way your legs protest against with a sharp sting of pain.
In an instant he's on you, holding you up like the nights when the crew goes out drinking, his volunteered job to hold you stumbling home. The look in his eyes is different now, though, as he mumbles to himself under his breath.
"Absolutely not."
His voice is laced with an obvious frustration and for a moment you feel bad, unused to that tone being used with you.
Of course, you know it isn't really directed at you. He's talking to himself, after all.
He drags you back to your room without much of a fuss, movements still deceptively gentle as he supports most of your weight for you to keep it off your legs.
He knows. Somehow, always, he knows.
He hadn't been the first you'd told - to everyone's surprise (including your own) that had been Zoro. Not Sanji and his sweetness, not Luffy and his stubborn care for his crew, not Nami for the safe, conspiratorial environment she created with you, as though even if her trust was hard to earn and dangerous to break, there was a sort of camaraderie between the two of you in simpler ways. You two against the boys.
No, it was not any of them. Any of the logical choices.
It had been when you were reading in the sun on deck, Zoro training a bit away. This was the kind of contact he liked, you were discovering. Companionable silence with the two of you doing your own thing while sharing the same space. It was easier than small talk, anyway.
You didn't mind, really. The two of you got on well enough and it was a simple expression of friendship, sharing the deck.
When he'd finished, the sun considerably lower in the sky, he'd complained about feeling faint. Not to a concerning extent, but there was an undeniable ache in his muscles that came from training so relentlessly every day. You didn't even think before slipping out that you felt like that a lot of the time without even doing anything to cause it.
Aside from a concerned squint, a cock of his head, and eventual, "...that sucks", the information didn't seem to phase him. You noticed he was less hard on you on days when you weren't much help to the crew, though.
For that, you were grateful. In his own way, that was him "helping".
Sanji's "helping" is, unsurprisingly, far different from Zoro's. After a few awkward moments of trying and failing to stumble back to your bed, he simply picks you up, as if you weighed nothing, carrying you the rest of the way.
This part - the flushed, apologetic look down at the floor once he'd set you back on your bed - was always the worst. There's a thick feeling of disappointment, even though you know it's all in your head. With his arms crossed across his chest as you avoid his eyes, though...it doesn't feel like it.
"...I thought-"
"I know what you thought."
He's quick to cut you off as soon as you break the silence, too uncomfortable with awkward pauses like that one to let them stretch on any longer than necessary.
The response is not cold, but it's not the Sanji you're used to either. It is not coddling or doting and overwhelmingly affectionate. It is not a happy sound. You keep your head down and look away, clearing your throat and willing tears not to form in the pinpricks you feel behind your eyes.
He sighs, sitting down next to you.
"...you know I worry."
There's more silence and you sniffle, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. Of course he does. Of course, he does.
He seems to sense the tension and guilt in your motions, offering a hand to you in comfort. Even now, you take it. You know, when offered, you will always take his hand.
"I know it's rough. I know that you...want to help. Want things to be normal..."
A part of you wants to scream that he doesn't at all, doesn't know anything about what it's like. But you don't. You know that they're words you'd regret tomorrow. You know that he's trying.
"Love, I just want you safe."
Is his final, exasperated plea, your traitorous heart doing flips at the nickname.
You know. Of course you know he wants you safe, he wouldn't ever be this direct with you if it involved anything else. Your safety, above all else, was paramount. Though you could fight or delay or try to bargain with him if you wanted, that's the moment you know you've lost. You know the outcome, even if a stubborn part of you doesn't want to admit it.
"...lie down for me? Please?"
And he knows exactly what to say, "for me" and "please", the words lighting up a part of your brain that doesn't let you question him. Instead you nod, lying down slowly before curling up on your side. He gives you a wry smile, crouching down to stay eye-level with you and pulling the blankets up to cover you, eyes softening.
"What am I gonna do with you, huh?"
The question is asked to no one in particular, his voice is liquid velvet. He lightly taps the tip of your nose, shaking his head fondly as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
"Do I have to?"
It's the first time you've spoken in a while, voice raw as you whisper the question.
It is the same every time- you ask him the same question, and he gives you the same answer.
He sighs, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again, reaching a hand out to lightly stroke across your cheek.
"Sorry, sweetheart. You have to."
It's not the answer you want, but it's the one that's familiar. And in a way, that's a comfort in and of itself.
His eyes are bright and lovesick as he looks after you, cataloging every freckle, eyelash, tint on your skin like you were the answer, though the question you couldn't be sure of. He stares like the light bends around your face, like you're the only source of illumination he's ever seen. The silence is comfortable and warm, intimacy inherent in it all as he traces your face lightly, making his examination with slow and steady strokes.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay here. Just for a while.
Eventually, he rises from his position at your side, standing up and straightening out his suit as he does. The distance makes you whine, though you bite it back, and he shakes his head fondly, voice low and calm.
"Just going to inform the others I'll be busy today. Stay put."
The door closes gently behind him and, despite yourself...you do.
#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#opla sanji#opla sanji x reader#opla#opla x reader#sanji x you#opla Sanji x you#opla x you#one piece#one piece live action#one piece x reader#one piece x you#opla x y/n#opla sanji x y/n#sanji x y/n
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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |
Smoke Signals
Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas
W/C: 7.5K
Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader
Have yourself a merry little Christmas…
(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers
Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀
A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭
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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.
A senseless daydream.
It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it. Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape. This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place. It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.
So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt. Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life. And last week he was suddenly dead. It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie. All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor. Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.
He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s. Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste. Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.
Whatever you wanted.
He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke. His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you. He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him. He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place. Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick. He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.
Now just standing up seemed impossible. Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible. And for what? For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions. Pathetic, he knew. But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.
This was it.
This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man. Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything. He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come. A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind. And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver. The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him. He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.
Eddie told you he was feeling better. It was a lie. He never had the flu. He didn’t feel better. He wanted to die. And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive. Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.
And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon. His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.
He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones. There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did. A flaw in the system. And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?
Several.
He thought to himself.
You could have gone to school, shown up.
Could have stayed out of detention.
Gotten arrested less.
Not get arrested at all.
Could have said no. So. Many. Times.
In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death. He couldn’t stop making excuses. Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse. For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together. Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had. It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.
Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision. He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid. Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.
What’s the matter darlin’?
And he just sobbed. And remembered.
Morning pancakes and the blues. Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies. Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum. Dancing in the living room. Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees. Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin. Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.
Then he remembered.
Him.
Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense. Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer. That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised. Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights. Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in. Disappearing for days.
Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home. Only he rarely did. Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time. Years and years of push back. A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.
“My dad has a ton of jobs.” He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.
The kids would snicker. Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness. And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day. Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them. Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.
So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature. At least that’s how dad described it. It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse. They called his dad a drunk. They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged. “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie. Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time. Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.
Freak.
Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt. And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up. Closure in some kind of fucked up way. Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.
Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with. Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.
All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes. Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability. No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door. He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it. This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions. He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world. They shouldn’t have to worry about me. With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.
The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana. A life he’d always longed for anyway.
Be careful what you wish for.
That goddamn voice taunts him.
The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away. “One slip up…” They had said. It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him. Literally anyone. As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.
Cause he was nothing if not a problem. First and foremost.
Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–
“Eddie?”
It all stopped.
“Eddie?!”
There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry. The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.
Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–
“Please don’t make me go back!”
You couldn’t form words.
“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.” His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime. “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear. Please d-don’t let them take me.”
Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made. You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.
“I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” You soothe.
Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose. A wordless commitment. Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
–
Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure. Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had. Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at. He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.
The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house. Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred. If either spoke it would make it real. Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.
He said it was an accident, and you believed him. There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind. Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip. It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.
He felt on a deeper level than most.
At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him. In the standard of fight or flight, he froze. Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.
“Bambi–”
“You don’t need to say anything.”
You were trying to keep it together. His croaking voice made that hard. But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability. And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime. Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him. Maybe that was dare you even think it, love. But that’s a crisis for another time.
“Dad died.”
Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions. Conclusions you backtracked on immediately. It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.
“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–” A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.
“It’s fucked.” His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior. “I shouldn’t–” There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath. “I shouldn’t feel bad.”
“You’re allowed to.”
“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”
“And you’re still allowed to mourn. Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”
You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet. Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.
“How’d you know?” He finally asked, timid.
“Hm?”
“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”
“Needed someone?”
Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.
“Wayne called me.” You sigh. “Said he got my number from Steve. Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?” At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it. “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in. Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”
“So you knew?”
“No.” You assure, taking care to relax your features. “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out. He wanted me to check in. I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.” You chuckle.
Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again. You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick. The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor. There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better. You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again. It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.
“I’ll be fine.”
Famous last words. When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.
“But right now you’re not.”
Sabotage. In his eyes.
“But I will be. Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”
Excuses. Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble. A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.
“Stop it.” You demand.
“No, Bambi. Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”
“Stop.”
Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key. Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself. And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses. His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.
Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness. Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in. He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.
“Would you listen to me?!” Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow. “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down. I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it. My shit is my shit.”
You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.
“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.” Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze. A plea. “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in. I don’t care what holiday it is.”
“Go.”
You try not to take it personal. It’s not personal.
“Fine.”
The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him. The room turned colder, more vacant. Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart? His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.
Do not resuscitate.
As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall. The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.
It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended. Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what? Stormed off? Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat. He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—
In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other. And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness. The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.
Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut. An uphill battle.
“Bambi, what did I tell you–”
“You told me to go.” You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth. “And I did. You didn’t say how long or—or where to go. But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake. Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“
Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.
There he is.
Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips. Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you. Your boy.
Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense. Bambi and Eddie. There is not one without the other, not anymore. Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—
“I love you.”
It just fell from his tongue. A promise.
“I-are—are you s—“
“Am I serious? Is that what you’re gonna ask?” He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.
You nod, gulping. Not because you’re afraid, no, never. You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.
“Bambi…” He tuts. “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”
All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.
“Bad.” He reiterates. “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“
“I don’t—“
“I’m not finished.” Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip. “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it. And I’ll run with it. Far. Because I’m pathetic—“
“You are not.”
“I’m a pathetic man. Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”
“Stop saying you’re pathetic.” You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.
“Oh, but I am.” He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.
Did he believe it was his last chance?
And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.
A pathetic whine dare you say.
“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.
“Don’t—ow! Jesus fuck.” Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek. “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”
You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of. Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.
“Can you…can you do that again?” He whispers. Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.
Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck. His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest wet dreams.
Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail. And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.
He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.
“Like that, baby?” You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.
“Please.” A whisper that tells you everything. “I-I never—no one’s ever—“ He tries to warn you.
“What?” You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe. “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”
“Just my hand.” Eddie jokes, voice strained.
Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap. Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his. Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.
“We can stop.” You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.
“No, no.” His voice shakes, chest heaving. “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”
There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him. But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable. Feel sexy and wanted.
“Let me do the work.” You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him. “Let me take care of you.”
He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles. You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.
“I said, let me take care of you.”
Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you. His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.
Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far. His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.
“Eddie.” You whimper.
“M’ gonna cum.” He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria. “Wanna be inside of you.”
You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.
“Please, baby. Please, I’ve got condoms—“
You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.
“You bought condoms? Boy, are you prepared—“
A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.
“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”
“Shhh, okay, okay!!” You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back. You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.
“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.
Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care. Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed. You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you. Purely Eddie. Woodsy and minty. A tad smoky. And some hints of apple.
Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room. And then it plays. A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love. A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.
“Well alright, cowboy.” You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.
“Shut up.” He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.
“C’mere.” You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you. “Wanna see you.”
“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”
Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach. Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago. The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined. While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side. Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.
As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him. Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants. Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.
“F-feel what you do to me?”
It aches.
His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet. But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.
You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side. His eyes grow, lips parted in awe. And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.
You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control. And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.
Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval. That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.
His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it. Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red. Painfully aroused.
He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.
“B-baby, please.” While grinding into nothing, poor boy. “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”
He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands. You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.
Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth. Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps. Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair.
He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot. Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned. Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone. The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom. The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.
Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm. Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.
Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting. The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.
Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds. Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what. Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime. Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.
Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm. His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted. You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark. All of him.
His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you. He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.
Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless. Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit. Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”. That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?
–
Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close. Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.
The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart. Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.
It could help though. And that’s all that mattered. If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing. If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.
While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree. Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar. Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works. Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.
You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did. Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste. Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.
You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes. While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.
Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet. Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity. Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips. A dream.
“Merry Christmas to you too.” You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.
Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.
“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?” He laughs, voice husky with sleep.
“No but I can do you one better—“
“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“
“Next to the table.”
Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created. Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow. He felt like an asshole.
“I—no I can’t—“
“Open it.”
Eddie just stared.
“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!” You smile, approaching behind him.
Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you. When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.
“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse. I just didn’t. I’m sorry.” His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.
As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck. And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.
“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you. I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“
“I love you.” You interrupt.
Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table. Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you. Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute. He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing.
“You’re not just saying that—“
“I. Love. You.” You enunciate each word with a peck. “Point blank. No exceptions. You’re stuck with me old man.”
“Old man? We’re like the same age—“
You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records. A huge stack of them. All genres. Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal. It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling. That much you could gather.
“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”
“Don’t like them?” You scoff. “I love them.”
You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school. You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach. He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.
And he was blushing.
“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me. I picked some out that I knew you’d like. Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”
“Oh, we are listening to them. Right after you open your gift.”
More blushing.
Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him. Like Pandora’s box or something. Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper. A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold. His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper. It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture. At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said.
“No fucking way.” He smiles, half laughs. Then repeats himself. Over and over.
“Do you like it?”
Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around. Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.
“I love it, I love you.”
Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table. The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other. Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between. His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.
He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three. Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled. Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.
Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere. You miss it. But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything. Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi. Makes small talk with mom and grandma. Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day. No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her. He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.
Lastly you call up the gang. Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual. Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background. Something about a broken sled. Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.
“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either. This would all make so much more sense then.”
There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on. Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default. She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially. Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house. Beautiful in the summertime. Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.
Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays. One of the records he’d gifted you.
~end~
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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#smoke signals#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie Munson series#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fic
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I NEED more of the aegon x older sister AU!
Like what if Otto tried to send reader on a betrothal tour like Rhaenyra did? Or what if at a Tourney another knight asked for readers favor? Otto would be doing everything he possibly can to contain Aegon lol
Would Aegon still become the type of person he was in the show/books? Or would he try and become the best version of himself to impress reader?
What if, to try and separate Aegon and reader, Viserys sent reader to live with Daemon in Essos? Or sent to ward somewhere else? I bet once Aemond had Vhagar Otto would try to use him to keep Aegon from flying to reader.
This somehow took a wholesome turn???
The beautiful unwed Targaryen princess??? you best believe noblemen and knights alike are lining up and down the block just to get a glimpse. Yours is always the first favour to be asked for. I'd imagine there would be people willing to move down in the lists for the opportunity to get to you first.
Aegon goes fucking feral every single time and it's getting harder and harder to keep him on a leash. He is practically sitting on top of you at this point. No matter how hard Otto or Viserys try Aegon will never accept any seat other than the one next to yours. Fingers entwined with yours, head resting on your shoulder- breathing in the oils you'd been bathed in.
He has no shame, the moment you sit back down after offering a favour or even speaking to another man he's either pulling you back down into his lap, or leaning in to place kisses against your face, neck, hands anything he can reach. All the while glaring murder at whoever had the audacity to even look at you.
Gods forbid Otto ships you off to be a ward somewhere or even worse on a tour like Rhaenyra's. He's been plied up with wine so he doesn't notice your departure until you have long since been shipped off.
It's a miracle that King's Landing doesn't burn that day.
Aegon's screams echo through the keep and anything that he can get his hands on is destroyed. rip Otto's belongings.
In the dragon pit Sunfyre is having his own fit. He eats three people and burns a lot more and for once your dragon isn't interested in stopping him.
The second he figures out where you are he is making a break for the dragon pit and it takes a surprising amount of the King's guard to prevent it. He has to be locked in his own chambers which amounts to days of screaming and a completely trashed room.
Luckily Aemond is all too happy to offer his assistance. He’s grown up seeing how you are with Aegon and even to a lesser extent him and Helaena and he thinks it normal. So he’s also quite upset big sis got sent away.
The arrival of Vhagar at whatever poor Lord's keep you've found yourself in is enough to deter many of the more cowardly lords. Aemond is also smart enough to play up his time with you and is content to sit in your lap like a baby instead of the 13-year-old he is.
Being the dutiful princess you are, you finish the tour. Though it quickly becomes more of a strained formality as Aemond has become your personal glaring necklace and Vhagar looms threateningly.
As for the kind of person Aegon is. You would never allow your beloved baby brother to fall into the pit he has in the show. You keep him away from wine and ale, he is not even allowed to drink a few glasses until he is past 16.
He has no desire to indulge in whores, that just means more time spent away from you after all. But I do imagine him getting frustrated/wanting to know how to bets please you and as such will pay a few visits to the streets of silk. He'll never finish inside any of them though. You are the only person that will ever bear his children.
With your constant stream of adoration and reassurance he is nowhere near as bad mentally as he is in the books/show.
You are just as scary as Aegon and the first time you catch Alicent yelling or laying hands on him he is still young and after you threaten grievous harm to her person she will never do such again.
You also aren't above whispering into your father's ears. Turning him and your younger siblings against Alicent and Otto. It takes you a while but you get Otto sacked and by some miracle you get Corlys to replace him.
Your close relationship with your younger siblings has given Rhaenyra a lot of forced exposure to them too. And though she is concerned about Aegon's possessiveness she understands how he feels.
She comes to adore Helaena and Jace being the sweet boy he is does too. so that's two pairs of children enamoured with each other and I think this is when Alicent starts to break free from Otto's brainwashing.
Everyone always hcs Aemond and Daemon as becoming close in these kinds of aus but I'm gonna say it. Aemond and Rhaenyra are a top tier pair. He loves his mother, but her love has still always been somewhat conditional and now he has this mother figure that simply loves him for being him and he can't get enough of it.
Rhaenyra and Alicent reconnect thanks to your machinations and now Aemond's like sweet, two mums!
But now there's just this whole clan of overly freakish possessive Targaryen's that you have accidentally allowed to reign free. Daemon comes back and is pissed, this is kind of all he's ever wanted and his family has just done it without him???
don't usually tag on these kinds of posts but cause this is so long:
@etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @thelittleswanao3
#aegon x older sister#aegon targaryen ii x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen ii hcs
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hi there,
thank you so much for all the voicelines you post !! if it’s okay, can i request subaru’s ?
thank you again !
You're welcome! At some point I might go back and put in the ones I leave out because they don't appeal to me as much lol but since i always end up posting 99% of them anyway I think it's enough for most people hahaha.
I WAS GONNA OMIT ONE OR TWO BECAUSE OF SPOILERS but eh i'll just warm for like. extra spoilers. since after doing more code peeking it wasn't the spoiler i thought it was. SUBARU IS A SWEETIE THOUGH. I also read Subaru's chats which were put in the code recently and. Man this guy needs anxiety meds. I have a small guess as to what his stigma is, but we'll learn in a few days anyway.
You've Got Mail:
"It looks like there's a notice for you. I'd be happy to go pick it up for you if you've got your hands full.
Oh, forgive me if I'm overstepping."
oh no he's anxious about helping--
Default(no affinity):
"I really am so lucky to be surrounded by so many kind people like you."
"I never thought I'd get the chance to enjoy the lifestyle of a student until I came to Darkwick.
Every day truly is fulfilling here."
it feels like subaru is like. . .the only one who actually enjoys school life here. . .or who really enjoys being here period lmao. . . .
"You think I'm always smiling?
Ha ha, I hear that a lot. It just happens when I'm around all of you."
"I may be the captain, but it's just in name. I think Haku is much better suited for the job than me."
"I've been working since I was four, so people often said I was mature for my age.
But the truth is, I've still got a lot to learn."
that makes two characters whose parents have essentially been keeping them from normal life and normal childhood for work reasons since they were four year olds. . . .
Affinity 1:
"I tend to just have hot water for breakfast. I know it would be better for me to eat a proper meal, but it's just so much effort."
DO WE REALLY HAVE TO START WITH "I NEED THE GHOULS TO EAT PROPER FUCKIN MEALS". . . .
Affinity 2:
"I'm sorry I'm so late. The campus is so crowded I can never manage to walk in a straight line, so it always takes me longer than I think. Silly, isn't it?"
baby you're hardly the first person i've met with anxiety about crowds. you're fine.
Affinity 3:
"What would I do without Haku's help?
Hotarubi would be a mess without him."
Affinity 6:
"Ever since I was a child, the performing arts were my only focus. Maybe that's why people always say my mannerisms are so peculiar. It bothers you too, doesn't it?"
poor boy doesn't know how to act if he isn't acting. . .he doesn't know how to exist off-script. . .no wonder he made a deal with a demon. it's probably the first thing he's ever done for himself.
Affinity 7:
"I'd like to go to the cafeteria, but the line is always so long. I feel bad taking time to choose while people are waiting behind me. The bar of entry feels a little high."
i am once again suggesting subaru get anxiety meds. hell go to sinnostra and get some weed, i bet they sell that. i hear it can help.
Affinity 8:
"I'm just about to go and meet a friend. I hate to inconvenience you like this, but if it's something urgent, could you speak to Haku about it instead?"
Affinity 9:
"What am I going to do? We're supposed to be meeting up in an hour... If I cancel now, they'll hate me..."
Affinity 10:
"Whew...
I'll walk you back to your house, FirstName.
Oh, it's no problem at all, I assure you! I wanted some fresh air anyway."
Affinity 11:
"I have an Anomalous Ecology test coming up. It's such a fascinating subject, I couldn't help but stay up all night studying.
Now I'm a little sleep-deprived."
Affinity 12:
"I'm going to stretch my legs a little. I might not have a show to practice for right now, but I need to keep putting myself through my paces. I'll get rusty otherwise."
Affinity 13:
"I'm sorry my phone's been making so much noise. I recently downloaded an app by mistake, and it won't stop sending me notifications..."
awww he's also technologically incompetent. . .poor guy was probably raised with such a heavy focus on his career he just. never needed a smartphone. anyone he needed to contact or who needed to contact him was probably always very close by. it sounds like he didn't even properly go to school before going to Darkwick. Somebody please take this boy on a walk. like anywhere. take him to a library. buy him a churro. can sho make churros? this is somebody who's never had any sort of normal social experience and sees how different he is and wishes it weren't the case, unlike Ritsu who assumes everyone else is like him, i think he'd like to have some more Experiences.
Affinity 14:
"...
...Oh! Hello, FirstName—I didn't even notice you there. My mind was somewhere else."
Affinity 15:
"Good morning! Sorry? My hair's messy?
You're right, it's sticking right up at the front... That's embarrassing. I'll fix it right away."
Affinity 16:
"I usually have lunch in the dormitory.
I do eat on the terrace with Lyca every now and then, but he seems so busy these days..."
Lyca is one of the members of Obscuary, btw! Seems like he and Subaru are friends.
Affinity 17:
"I didn't take you for a night owl, FirstName. Since you're here, I suppose I'll stay up a little longer.
You're sure you're okay? You're not sleepy?"
Affinity 18:
"Do you visit Sinostra very often, {PC}?
I see... Oh, no reason. I was just making conversation. Ha ha."
why do you ask that. . .a certain mafioso captain wouldn't happen to be suspicious of you would he. . .or maybe you owe them money. . .or maybe you used to be part of Sinostra and moved to Hotarubi. . . .
Affinity 20:
"Oh, I couldn't ask you to come all the way to my room to wake me up—I'd feel terrible.
I do very much appreciate the thought, though."
it's okay buddy jin already makes them do it, one more pit stop won't hurt.
Affinity 22:
"Lyca has seen my message, so why hasn't he responded to it?
I hope nothing bad has happened to him..."
Affinity 23:
"Lyca will adapt well to human society, I'm sure of it. I'm so relieved that Darkwick chose to trust him. I can't thank you enough for your help."
he really likes Lyca huh? that is his dog.
Affinity 24:
"You can't sleep? Then let me tell you some stories. Legend has it that evil spirits appear once you've told a hundred.
Now, what number was I up to..."
BOY IS TRYNA GET YOUR ASS HAUNTED.
Affinity 25(max):
"I don't want to seem like I'm testing you, I just... I get really anxious sometimes...
I'm sorry. I'm being weird, aren't I?"
he's the type to ask 'are you sure you love me? are you sure you wanna be with me?' after you get married and move in together and own a house and have two kids with another on the way. he's the hyper anxious 'i'm sorry we disagreed about our favorite colors do you hate me?' friend(affectionate)
Spring:
"There is no time like spring. Everyone seems more relaxed this time of year. It's reassuring to see."
"They have no control over whether they bloom, and yet they get made a spectacle of nonetheless...
Oh, sorry—I was talking about the cherry blossoms."
"There are many different flowers growing in Hotarubi, but I think the wisteria are my favorites.
This is the best time to see them, so you should take a walk around."
Summer:
"Hot today, isn't it? It's always raining in Hotarubi, so it does provide a little escape from the blazing summer sun, but...
Ha ha. It is very humid, isn't it?"
"Summer makes me think of the ghost story Yotsuya Kaidan.
The scene where Oiwa becomes hysterical, having realized her her face has been disfigured—
incredible."
Yotsuya Kaidan is one of the best known japanese ghost stories! It's extremely violent, so read the summary at your discretion. The scene in question has Oiwa shown her reflection by her sister's boss to see that the cream she was given by a woman who was in love with her husband was actually some sort of poison that instantly scarred her face. She grabs a sword and goes to kill her, only for her to accidentally slit her own throat.
"Hotarubi House holds regular festivals during the summer months. If you need a yukata to wear, I'd be happy to pick one out for you."
"I don't mind scary stories, but when that biwa in the tea room started playing by itself, it did make me jump a little..."
slight spoiler, although you can probably figure it out from this but. . .Zenji is a ghost. Subaru currently can't actually see him or hear his voice. . .only Haku, the pc, and, perhaps not so oddly, Towa can afair. All of his youtube content doesn't have him or his voice in it because he can't be recorded by cameras. So Subaru doesn't realize that the biwa playing on its own is actually Zenji playing the biwa.
Autumn:
"The air has gotten crisper, and the leaves are changing color. I know it's only natural for the seasons to shift, so why does it make my heart ache so much?"
"Oh, these? They're some chestnuts I found.
I know—I should give them to Sho. I'm sure he'll be able to make something delicious with them."
"That's another kuchikiri tea ceremony under my belt. It's an annual tradition where one cuts open a tea jar to reveal the tea that was preserved from the first harvest."
Winter:
"...Oh, FirstName. Good morning...
I had a hard time getting up today. It must be the cold... Ha ha. Not very captain-like, is it?"
"Today, I'm going to order ingredients from one of my favorite stores so we can all make negima—tuna and scallion—hot pot together. Please, do join us."
"People say winter makes you want to snuggle up with someone, but I find that a good blanket does a much better job."
i agree that blankets are much easier to manage than people lol. probably warmer too.
His birthday:
"A present? For me? Thank you...
I didn't expect you to do anything for my birthday, so I'm a little caught off guard. I really appreciate it."
New Years:
"Happy New Year. I hope I can depend on your guidance and support again this year."
Valentine's Day:
"Chocolate?
Oh, It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? Does that mean these are for me...?"
nah i just wanted you to look at them. YES THEY ARE FOR YOU BBY. why would you be showing him chocolate if it wasn't for him! On any day, not just valentine's day!!
White Day:
"These are for you, FirstName. I put in a special order for monaka from my favorite confectioner in Ginza. They're wafers filled with bean jam—I hope you like them."
April Fool's Day:
"Earlier, Haku told me he was switching houses. It gave me a real shock—
I'm very relieved that it wasn't true..."
i bet subaru made the most scared kicked puppy face and started apologizing for being such an awful captain and blamed himself for that haku would go to a different house and haku had to quickly explain it was just a prank for fear that subaru might burst into tears.
Halloween:
"Happy Halloween. I know it's nothing special, but I've prepared some treats for the occasion.
Oh... But you're more than welcome to play a trick instead."
please don't trick him. april fool's day was hard enough for him.
Christmas:
"Merry Christmas. We already have our New Year decorations up in Hotarubi, so it has a real east-meets-west atmosphere now.
I hope everyone is okay with it..."
Idle:
"Everyone seems busy at the moment. Maybe I should use this opportunity to tidy the garden..."
"{PC}?
Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just worried because you were so quiet..."
Absent:
"You're back... I'm so relieved. I was worried I'd done something to make you feel uncomfortable..."
this man shakes like a chihuahua 24/7. like you can taste the anxiety coming off of him. i love him. he's so pathetic(affectionate). i wanna squeeze his hand reassuringly and tell him everything's gonna be okay. i wanna hug him and pat his head. i wanna take him places so he learns more about the world outside of working. i wanna watch him do schoolwork excitedly because he's never really gone to school before and it's a new and exciting experience. i want him to experience the most mundane aspects of life with wonder.
good boy. yeah. get him anxiety meds /nodnod
#subaru kagami#tokyo debunker#danie yells at tokyo debunker#danie yells answers#danie yells with anons#tokyo debunker spoilers#datamining cw#OKAY TIME FOR BED WHEW
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