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punk-in-docs · 2 years

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🕷 Don’t Need Telling Twice 🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.4k words

Summary: Movie Night at Eddie’s place. All the little things that sneak into the cracks in between new love and affection. So I was intending to get a lot filthier with this but somehow it turned out sweet enough to rot your teeth- Eddie being insecure. Wayne being parental, Pencils being nervous. Let’s see how they iron it out man. (It’s really just me waffling about insight into these two lovebirds)

Saturday morning in your scruffy yet clean kitchen. Stereo cranked high. Melded into your happy place.

The bright slip and drip of the opening guitar licks to ‘Should I stay or should I go.’ Joe’s condescending spitting voice begins. You twirl around with the greased baking sheets in hand.

The kitchen is warm, it’s got this odd glow about it, from the slanted sun gushing in through the cream drapes that have yellow flowers on them. The shabby wood cupboards and the creamy tiles of the breakfast counter with its little peach-pink roses, which is now cluttered with baking trays.

Entirely rose tinted in your view. But you’re blasting the Clash. Loud enough to wake the neighbours.

You’re making cookies for your date tonight. Moms tattered pink apron hanging limp off your body from too many washes. Really it’s a scratchy old thing.

This morning did come around quick. Sunrise like a copper-red wound knifing slashes across the sky. Burning the whole horizon to that fantastic blood orange. You’re too squirmy to sleep. Too excited.

Seeings as you were up early, you put it to use and ran to the store. And now you were knee deep in cookie batter. Chocolate chip. Little starbursts of Cocoa powder and flour dusted everywhere. Head banging, head shaking and hair flicking along to Joe Strummer and his ridiculing tone.

You kick the walnut stained cupboard door closed. It’s wonky and juts out like a stubby tooth snapped off a jaw. It’s always been like that.

Every door in your kitchen creaks. Whines all aged. The appliances have their knacks and sticky tricks that come with years and years worn behind them. Temperamental.

Sure even your whole house is nothing fancy. You’ve never had that much money to scrape together, or give a shit that the whole place is dated. One thing wins favour over all that; your place is cosy.

It’s stuffed with life. Scored deep with it. Consumed. It’s not some ultra chic monotone black-red wasteland. It’s got posters and art on the walls, the crazy bohemian touches that come from your entirely whacky mother.

Sure this house wasn’t all that. But she made it great, and celebrated it in it’s own uniqueness.

Same goes for the best kind of people too. She’d say that to you with a wink.

Handfuls of pennies and some imagination went a long way. Clicking her tongue and shooting you her fierce brand of optimism that seeps out her every pore: eternally unflinching.

A lot of it, this house, echoed its funky warm pattern after the musical, magical, mental, woman who birthed you.

Forever hunting thrift stores for funky things. Weird shaped clocks. The Who posters. 60’s pop art. French Impressionism posters. Stupid cartoon lamps with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck on the shade. Broken and chipped from the Goodwill but she liked that it wasn’t perfect or level.

She bought prints of famous artworks. Degas. Van Gogh. Millet. Flower drawings, or pressed leaves and flowers behind a sheet of glass. Not one piece of furniture matches in your living room. Or any room. The rugs are old and squishy soft, worn to death. It’s whacky to say the least. But you’d take it over any home they’re always flashing from the interior pages of a magazine.

She has blue daisy pillows on the couches. Always buys godawful cheap lemon candles that are all sugar acidic when they burn. But it cements that scent of home to you now.

There’s no inch of wall space not covered by frames or colour. One day she got up and impulsively painted your kitchen a bright buttery yellow. Just because. Flowers stamped everywhere cause she saw the idea in some hippy book.

And she filled this house with second hand books, too many, spilling over with them. She crammed your home with laughter, and literature, arts, and so many idols of your taste in music came from her.

You wouldn’t trade her for the entire world.

Flighty and bonkers as she is. You hate her being away so often, and with Charlie gone off now with her serious boyfriend, it does chip at you on the sadder days. Being here alone. It gouges just that little bit more when she’s not around.

The days when Linda says something particularly cutting, or times when jocks insults jab just that little too deep. You do miss her then. You can’t hate her for it. her job is a real earner and it makes her so happy. She brings you back souvenirs from every little corner of the globe she’s seen. Postcards. Snow globes.

She trusts you. She always says you’re her favourite kid in the world. That she knows of.

She’s not like some of the other Hawkins Moms you’ve seen. Not at all. The ones who all go to the same lousy hairdresser for the ruler straight highlighted bob. Go to Jazzercise on Thursdays. Hate their ignorant husbands. Wear beige cardigans and chunky gold jewellery and are the queen of boring casseroles and insist their kids be in bed by nine.

Then there’s her. Jagged and wound down and much looser. Etched in coolness. Less controlled - more quirky. Crazy hair even on a good day. Cherry ice cream smile. Young by their standards. Berkeley dropout. Strolling around in her suede fringed jacket and a Patti Smith t-shirt and boot cut jeans.

You’ve always seen the way other moms raised their brows at her appearance. They think she’s trashy. A single mom who dresses and eats and acts the way she does.

Scoffing behind her back at the rhinestone jacket or her vintage cowboy boots. She’s punchy. She doesn’t give two shits. She loves both her kids passionately and would be the first to swing a punch, split her knuckles open for you. Always in your corner. No matter what.

She had you both so young and braved through your dad walking out. Good riddance. He never did have the balls to do the important shit.

She told you that once you were just on the cusp of being old enough to understand why he wasn’t around.

Told you as she wrapped her arms around you and engulfed you in a hug. Smelling like Yves Saint Laurent Paris and gold Newports. She kissed the top of your head.

He couldn’t hack responsibility babe. He had his chance. Too bad he blew it. Cause I happen to think you’re the coolest pair of kids in the world.

She bucked up and scraped money together and it stung a bit sure. Pinched the corners of life at times. But she turned the back of her Brooke Shields shiny hair to the stares she gets in this town. Flipped the bird to those Carol’s and Susan’s who dared to judge her.

Somehow they thought she was a deadbeat mom. But she’s now raised two honour roll kids. First Charlie. Now you.

You’re on track for Indie State. Charlie went to Purdue. She said she’d love you even if you wanted to flip burgers or fix greasy old clunker cars for a living.

The phone shrills out loud as you’re scooping sticky chocolate chip dough into the greased sheets. It clumped between your fingers.

“Hang on.” You call out with no patience to the ringing, as you lean over to pluck it from the wall. Cradle it between your shoulder and ear. Trying to locate a dish rag for your smeared messy hands.

“Yeah.” Figured it would be someone for Mom, or a telemarketer.

“How’s it hangin, Pencils.”

Immediately a grin bursts on your lips. It’s Pavlovian. He smiles. You echo it.

You hear his voice? Ok then. Your stomach flew to bits. All fluttery like confetti.

“Well well well. If it isn’t my favourite metal head.” You say as you balance your trays down. Bumping the counter with your hip.

He chuckles through the phone. You hear the crackle of his exhale. You can picture his smile and it’s doing something to your guts that is just, crazy.

“Hey, c’mon now. Play fair. You never told me you were seeing other metal heads? I bet it’s that lanky haired bastard from the pizza place on Beechwood Drive, in his Slayer tees.” He twirled the old green phone cord around his finger. It clacks around that chunky silver ring of his.

He’s so quick to step up and play around and you love it. You can hear the jokiness layered on his voice. Hear him moving around cause staying still is his worst nightmare. Typical Eddie.

God. Look at you. You’re both twirling the phone cords around your fingers like middle school girls. Crushes thick in your throats and smiles. Choking your hearts fully. Paper airplanes tossed with love notes folded inside. Initials crossed together in a pink love-heart.

“Yeah.” You tease. “But his hair isn’t as great as yours. And don’t you know by now that I’ve got guys lined up around the block. I’ve had to have a ticket booth installed.” You pick up your wooden spoon to mix.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Linda. I thought I rang my pencils.” You hear the soft scuff of his laugh.

“Hang on one second, my lipgloss needs refreshing.” You pout. “And I feel like I should be singing ‘If I only had a brain’.”

He beams and it’s so wide his cheeks hurt.

“That’s not the Wizard of Oz I’m hearing over there pencils, right?” He deciphers.

“Saint Joe of Strummer. Our lord and saviour.” You tell him proudly. Cursing when you splodge a little of the sticky dough on the countertop. Looking around for the dish rag.

“I’m of the Anti-Christ church myself. Ozzy is my devil and I’m bound to obey.” He leers. His voice drops and it slithers between your legs to hear it get deep.

“Mmm. Sounds kinky.” You flirt. Trying your hardest not to drop dough on your bare toes where you’re scooping it to the tray. He’s a great distraction to your focus.

“If you’re into blood play and satanic practices baby, I got some great news for ya.” He fiddles with the empty microwave packets on the kitchen counter.

Chicken pot pie from two nights ago. The Kraft mac n’ cheese that he shovels down like air. Usually scraping it out the pan, eating it with a too big wooden spoon. As he reads a rock magazine at the kitchen counter.

“Sadly no. Dungeon stuff only. Oh and leather. Face masks. Lots of whipping too. And biting.” You tease.

“Hang on. Lemme get a pen and some paper… I’ll make a note…” He rustles around like he’s actually searching for it. Wiry body with the twisted phone cord wrapped around his torso.

You smile at his eagerness to please you.

“I don’t think you need to take notes, Munson. Last time was pretty sensational.” You blush. Mixing your batter and flirt is creeping onto your lips.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Jesus. You’ve no idea. It’s been driving me crazy. I should be committed. Look, I couldn’t even wait til tonight to hear your voice. I-“ He sighs in wanting. His tongue was tripping away from him. He drew back. Worried he was being too much.

He couldn’t wait. He had to call you.

“Munson. You never have to be sorry for calling me.”

Cause, I fucking like you.

“You know, you can call me Eddie. Pencils.”

“First name basis? How brazen.” You rib.

“Yeah, later on I was planning to show you my ankles. Risqué or what?” He flirts. You chuckle.

He’s wandering over to the window and flicking the curtain aside with his fingertips to see the same old drab and murky Forest Hills staring back at him.

“What would the village elders say-“ You gasp. “My reputation will be in tatters.”

“Not possible. Your name isn’t Linda.”

“I may have to kiss you for that one.” You warn.

“I’m very open to that.” He says very quickly. Twirling a packet of reds around the shiny surface of the table. Considering lighting one up. The rush of your voice is his nicotine until he hangs up.

You close a cupboard door and Eddie’s ears perk at the sound. “Learning drums over there?” He seeks.

“I’m baking.” You offer up.

Phone at your shoulder and between your ear still as you mix the dough with your other hand to fold in the chocolate chips. Shaking the packet and watching the chips fall. Plinking into the thick batter. It’s very messy and clumsily done.

“Tell me you’re wearing a tiny pink Betty Crocker apron?” He all but purrs down the phone. Licking his lips.

“It’s pink and frilly.” You drawl.

“Mmm. More-“ He rasps down directly down the phone. Grinning. Holds it right to his mouth to talk louder into the receiver.

“Pretty heels too. Lacquered hair like Donna Reed. Whole shebang.”

“Fuck.” He twirls hair around his finger. Almost bites down on his skull ring.

“The images in my head are so unmatched right now. You’ve no idea.” He charms.

“Damn.” He moans again. It’s low and it strikes a direct chord with your pussy.

Shit. You’ve had delicious filthy dreams about those moans. Your hands on that hard dick of his.

“Yeah and don’t forget my strand of pearls.” You grin.

He splutters. Oh he could give you pearls if you wanted them. It’s what he’s been dreaming of.

Such a horny boy.

“You’re the perfect date you know. Kinky as fuck, into whipping and leather. But pearls and baking.”

“You don’t even know what I’m baking-“

“You say pot brownies pencils, I’m gonna go out right this second and buy a goddamned ring.”

“Remember the four C’s. Colour. Clarity. Carat. Cut.”

“Shit. You want a diamond? Hmm I was thinking more along the lines of a pop ring. More in my budget. Or maybe something out the claw machine in the arcade.” He bargains.

“I like a man who puts in the effort. And, hey I’m not picky. I’ll take it. Diamonds are way overrated anyhow.” You decide.

“And just to lay your mind at rest I’m making Extra Chocolate, chocolate chip cookies.”

He cradled his aching throbbing heart. Hand splayed over his chest. Made a groaning noise like he was mortally wounded. A crackle of the sigh rattled the phone.

“Alright. You’re officially too good for me. I’m gonna have to hang up.” He jokes. You laugh.

You really hope he doesn’t.

“Don’t do that.” You ask quietly. “I need to talk to someone sensate. I beg of you.” You urge. “I had to listen to Linda bitch all the way home on Friday about how low fat ice cream sucks, and how much she wants to bang James Spader in Pretty in Pink.”

“Wow that really says a lot about her taste in guys.” He commented. She really was Tiffany-twisted, that girl. Wrapped up in her own over groomed looks, bouncy blonde curls, and sex life. Lived by rules out of Cosmo magazine and fad diets.

“My ears wanted to commit suicide by the time I got home. Thank god cause as I got out the car she started to mention the words sleepover and boyfriend and I just about had the sanity to slam the car door, before anymore came out.”

“Wise move baby.” He beamed.

You preened at the nickname that did dirty things. Finally you now had the cookies ready for the oven.

“Alright...” You clunked the wooden mixing spoon down. “First wave of troops going in. I’ll you know their condition after battle. Hopefully they make a worthy addition to our night as I am trying to impress you with my passably mediocre baking skills.” You charm.

“Hey don’t practice too hard now. You know us guys like em stoopid.” He puts on a southern-belle twang.

“If you can navigate yawself round a tree girlie. Keep on walkin. Them slick city fellers can have ya.” He drawls.

Your laugh makes his whole mood hop into giddy.

“You’re such a goof.” You smile. He couldn’t wait to see that grin of yours in person again. In a mere handful of hours-

“I didn’t need another incentive to be impressed by you, pencils...” He smiles. Tone slipping back into genuine. “Already there.” He offers.

Before you can respond. Hurricane Munson struck elsewhere.

“And uh, Whatever condition those troops are in. I’ll take it. I’m not picky either. Charlie. Tango. Bravo.”

“Good.” You answer. Twiddling with the corner of the dish cloth. Fondness settled like warm oozy mush on your chest. Inescapable.

You could spend hours down the phone listening to Eddie crack his jokes. Twirl around. Get distracted. Put on stupid drama club voices like he was at Hellfire

“There aren’t trees in the way of your trailer are there? Cause I won’t be able to navigate round them all on my own.” You joke in reference to his earlier remark.

“You’re the perfect lady.” He sighs in a sweet hum.

“Oh and uh, I picked the movies for tonight.” He suddenly announced. Sounding cheeky. Brimming with it.

“Yeah?” You asked with inflection. “Yeah.” He answered. With none.

“You’re not gonna tell me are you?” You clued up.

“Leave me to have my wicked wicked fun.”

“VHS tease.” You complained all snarky.

“Scoot your pretty ass over here and come see for yourself you coward.” He dares. Tongue tipped out between his smiling teeth.

“Six still good?” You check. Up on your tiptoes and swirling around the tiled floor. Stomach swooping with anticipation.

“Golden.” He answers.

“Guess I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one in the skirt.”

He sucks air through his teeth. “Ah same here. I hope we don’t clash.”

“Bye, Edward.” You joke. He gasps.

“Mm. Definitely gonna have to let you see my ankles now.” Comes his voice. Smile traced on it. You could tell.

“I’m counting the minutes.” You dip your voice low.

“See ya.” He parts. Slinging the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall. Smile charged to megawatt from your conversation. He wants to twirl and flip his hair. Goddamnit. He couldn’t keep still.

Then he drags his eyes to his surroundings. The crushed beer cans crumpled up on the kitchen counter, and the coffee table. The overflowing ashtrays. Trash in the kitchen. The dishes. The laundry strewn sofa. The dust- he chews his lip.

It was like he was seeing this place through fresh eyes. And it needed rectifying. He rolled up his sleeves.

Shit. He needed to hustle.

It was fair to say Wayne and Eddie had to grow used to living with each other.

The veil of constancy was Eddie’s safety blanket when it came to the gruff and earnestly stoic man, that was Wayne Munson; he pretty much remained himself. Didn’t change much.

Liked his bacon crispy. Made a peach cobbler that would blow your socks off til next Tuesd ay, but couldn’t assemble a sandwich neatly at all. Used to drive big semi trucks across the states. Did the crossword in the Hawkins Gazette. Adored Billie Holiday. Collected comical mugs. Liked strong coffee with cinnamon and had a dislike for cilantro. Loved old spaghetti westerns and that twanging soft country music he always hums too, which had carved space out of his soft-soppy Tennessee heart.

He had hatred for people with nasty gossiping sniping souls. Ugliness born inside, he thinks people don’t ever shift it on or lose that. He worked his fingers to the bone for the modest home and the little money they raked by on. He was unfailingly honest and generous. He had few words to give. He was Eddie’s weather-beaten yet reliable rock.

Eddie can imagine that Wayne getting to know him was more of a challenge; tricky to navigate; herding cats, walking on-knives-and-eggshells kind of difficult. How do you get to know someone when their character is set on shifting sand?

Thing is. Eddie never really changed that much.

He’s still the starry-eyed kid leaping on the couch, shredding air guitar to Metallica in filthy sneakers cause the moment just ran away with him. He’s the one making a huge show of not stepping on cracks in the pavement cause he’s down enough as it is. Not breaking mirrors, ever, and picking up sidewalk spilt pennies. And apologising and stepping over weeds in the trailer lot. Not trampling them underfoot.

Eddie was still the boy inside that felt bad for struggling weeds. The one to feel sorry for a squashed little dandelion.

Wayne wrenched open this home to this kid as a stranger. Barbs and shame-wrapped guilt set in his heart that he didn’t know his brothers own kid better than he did. He kept to his lane. He stayed out the way of his brothers numerous convictions. Remained a stranger to trouble.

But then, when need came knocking; he offered up, no questions asked. The way a bird offered the gentle lift of their wing, to something foreign needing shelter, in a warm bramble nest, from the raging storm.

Eddie will never forget the first words he heard out of Wayne’s mouth. Around the corner of some bland police precinct. Warm. Firm. Dependable.

“He’s my family. He’s blood. That’s enough. Kindly let me see him.”

He didn’t regret stepping up to bat for one minute. Maybe he’s grouchy and he’d never fully ‘get’ or approve of everything his nephew did, or enjoyed. But he didn’t chew him out, or pick at him for it.

He learned what flavour pop tarts Eddie liked best for breakfast. When he needed sleep or help. When he needed space. When to warn him to watch his attitude, or his mouth, or manners, and when to back off. Parental things.

Eddie was a stale eyed kid when he first met Wayne. Perhaps innocent and maybe just jaded enough to see beyond the rose-tinted prism of childhood. He was jaggedy-rough round the edges and not worn into himself yet. Caught up in the hard knocks of social care and down-and-out on his luck, as a mostly unwanted eight year old. That stuck some nasty pins in his ego pretty early on.

Wayne could see how Eddie kept expecting to be shuffled on elsewhere. Big shining eyes that a puppy would envy under a scruff mop of hair. Clutching all he had for dear life. His scruffy collection of tattered comics and stubby pencils and half broken toys.

Kept looking around the trailer like he shouldn’t get too attached. Sat gingerly on the edge of the sagging bed. Shouldn’t make mess or get comfy. Cause soon, he’ll have to pack his scrappy things into that sad cardboard box and eek out a wobbling lipped goodbye. Sad that home hadn’t stuck, again.

Eddie kept that empty scruffy little box sat in the bottom of his closet for six months. Just in case.

Wayne threw that box right in the trash.

Bought him a beat up old turntable. Put a shelf up in his room and a stood a few second hand fantasy paperback books on it. Bought him a few new things that didn’t belong to someone else first.

Wayne watched Eddie fall into stability. To learn how to put roots down. Grow steady and then in quick spurts, into who he was. In that way kids do. The way they grow into clothes that were too big. Shoes that would eventually fill out to fit their steps.

He watched the love of music come blasting in. Middle school. Rolling Stones magazines. Catching Black Sabbath on the radio one day. The appreciation for that loud thrashing dirty-steel rock he now loves. The one that ran vein deep. His idols with the crazy scruffy long hair. He discovered Ozzy and Axl, Judas Priest and Lemmy.

Watched him sew on badges that he bought for pennies at dime stores, and get bloody fingertips cause he really was useless at needlework. Found his signature rings at a cool vintage place outta state. Watched him saw off the arms of his denim jacket and come home with a swing in his step and a DIO shirt from the goodwill - a twinkle in his eye. Determination threaded in this burgeoning passion. Tip of the iceberg.

A plan Wayne. I have a well executed, thorough plan. Foolproof.

Mmmhmm. Is this gonna end up exactly like the last plan you had, kid?

Let’s find out.

Gone from the sweet boy who was too scared of everything, and everyone boring, and being judged, and now he’s turned inside out, full circle, to become this genuinely sweet young man, who turned against that boring tide of beige normalcy.

Eccentric and whirly with the unfocused energy that never burned out. Dynamite blaze kid. Even when he tried to hide scrapes on his knees, and raw knuckles. A shiner that he let his shaggy fringe cover, from an attempt to fight and claw back.

He still gave Wayne that shocking toothy grin with a fat lip and a busted nose, cause he was actually stupid proud of himself - and the way he stuck up for some freshman. The tiny nerdy one who had a carton of milk poured over his head by the meat head jocks. Having pages ripped out his science textbooks by them and spread to the wind like leaves.

Eddie sat beside the newbie with bleeding raw knuckles, cracked jokes, sellotaped those torn pages back together - wonky. Just to show that someone out there, cared.

The smiles became armour, devil horns and Gene Simmons tongue. The hair started to grow out into rioting curls. Doe eyes glinted promiscuity; to those who didn’t know him well enough to know there was no shred of malice anywhere in him.

Eddie collected parts of himself, the way someone would laundry plucked off the line- like the badges and pins he secured on his chest and flashed around for fun.

He found his first DND board and his dice at a yard sale. And then came that sweet head-muzzy strain of Colombia gold, and Reefer Rick and light frothy cans of beer on an empty stomach. He found acceptance. Ripped jeans and scuffed knees. The exquisite pin pricks of a scratchy tattoo the day he turned 18. Asked if he could wear the old sagging leather jacket he found hung in the back of the closet, from Wayne’s younger and more hip days.

The way he went full bonkers-gaga over seeing his 24 fret NJ warlock in the window of a music store in town. Bursting big heart eyes over it and saving up for months. Awfully tempted by the idea of some piercing, somewhere, but nearly fainted when he got in the shop. So that was the end of that. He founded Hellfire and he protected his fellow freaks. Scraped together his high school band.

Collected the little lost sheepies in armfuls, in bunches, so that no one within his reaches would ever have to sit and console that festering hungry chasm of being an unwanted kid, with nowhere to turn.

Cause Eddie knew well enough, it was a bottomless gremlin pit with gnashing teeth, and it would take take take as long as you bothered to feed it.

And all that learning and comfiness, and living, now it currently tapered down to Wayne not being at all surprised, by watching his nephew shaking frail little spindly spiders out into the doormat, talking soothingly to them.

Shooing them out off the glossy pages of his rock music magazine. Telling them to get used to the brave new world of Forest Hills outside these four walls.

“-And kudos by the way for eating the flies. Appreciate you for that. Sorry I’ll have to take down those cobwebs. Consider this your eviction notice.” As he jimmied the last one off the paper and it crinkled noisily. Bracelet on his wrist jingling.

Wayne is peering over the shield of his paper. Coffee steaming away in a chipped Snoopy mug by his side. Cigarette dangling from his fingers. Watching Eddie crouch right at the mouth of the trailer door. Holding it open and watching the insects lope away in new brave directions.

Pieces of clarity started to to swim together when he takes a look at Eddie’s clothes.

Different to his normal threads on a Saturday night; Either he’s kicking his feet into reeboks, shouldering on his leathers and vest to go out a party at some place, and come back reeking of grass and beer breath. Or; he’s shuffling around in his thread bare plaid pyjama pants and a ratty AC/DC tee, asking what’s for dinner through a smeary eyed yawn.

This is neither; he straightened up to go and neatly return the magazine to his room, as opposed to throwing it down to rest in any old place. Odd.

Wayne took notice of his clothes. Black jeans that were suspiciously clean of ash stains or frayed knee holes. His long sleeved black skull tee rolled up to his elbows, ink on display. Chest blazoned with a band name he’s never heard of, and down the sleeve too in gothic red. His hair was all fluffed up - like he’d finally discovered what a comb was.

Eddie saunters back into the room. Flitting from place to place. Shoving beer cans in a bulging garbage bag. Along with empty crushed food packets that he left out. Sweeping crumbs off the counter with his bare hands. Probably over the floor but the effort was there- picking cigarette butts off the floor that he was careless enough to drop.

And Wayne didn’t even have to shoot his usual look, clearing his throat at him, about that nasty habit. He was clearing up entirely on his own. Without prompt.

He was rushing. Rushing was the antithesis of Eddie’s speed. A thin film of sweat on his brow under that choppy lollop of a fringe. He’s crammed garbage bags full. Shoving stuff inside.

Says something under his breath that sounds like “shit” as he darts back into his room. Wallet chain jangling behind him. Socked feet thudding softly on the carpets.

He keeps an ear open for what sounds like commotion. Frantic tidying. The shuffling of clothes by the armful. Closet doors shutting with a thwack. He talks to his guitar as he hums and tidied.

“I know I know. Sweetheart. I should have done this earlier. Don’t look at me like that…”

He rounds up his dirty clothes and does a sniff test - again. That was the third time tonight.

Movement clattering along the hall. Socked feet storm back to the washer. He’s stuffing an armful of mostly all black clothing into it like he’s trying to dispose of body parts in there. Ramming in so much he has to shut the door quick.

“Rat bastard.” He hissed after he shook the dream fresh laundry powder in and slams it shut. Punches it for good measure. His rings clack on the metal-metal contact. Shook his fist out I n the air cause that hurt more than he thought it would.

Now he’s back to the trash bags in the kitchen. Looping them up and walking across the door to dump them outside in the garbage cans. Hopping across the sharp gravel in socked feet like a jumping hare.

Wayne sees that determined set in his brow as the door snaps open and back in slams Eddie at a million miles a second. Frowning at everything he sees. Sloped brows. Mouth curled into a grimace.

He comes to empty the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table near Wayne. Well, it was an old soup can that somehow turned into an ashtray. Annoyed that he missed it. Muttering to himself. Scooping away dust. It was like watching a one man ant farm.

This led to him now being stood on the couch, suddenly reorganising the shelf behind it. Batting cobwebs away from mugs and wiping a hand on his jeans.

“Jesus. I mean how dusty is this place?” Eddie asks to no one in particular. Not expecting an answer.

Silence. Rustling.

Wayne folds up his paper and nicely slaps it down on the arm beside him. Folds his hands in his lap. “Eddie.”

Eddie turns around like a doe eyed deer caught in semi headlights. Twisted at the waist. Back of his shirt riding up over his lithe waist. Peek of his back and his plaid red boxer band showing over the back of his jeans.

The bony notches of his spine poke through skin where he’s leaning over. He blinks owlishly at his uncle. One foot braced on the back of their elderly moth-eaten couch.

“What the hell you doin?” Wayne asks with kind bewilderment. Shaking his head at his kid.

“Spring cleaning?”

Wayne’s eyes narrow as he lifts his hand up and sucks on his cigarette. “Sure?” He checks.

“No?” Comes the answer. Carefully. Wincing. Wayne takes a breather.

“There’s cobwebs. And, dust.” He explained. Pointing to the wall before him. “Look see, dust.”

“Why the sudden aptitude for household chores there, huh?” Wayne asks as he nurses his cooling coffee.

To his shame they don’t exactly keep the place pristine. He tries his best, but on some days work takes it clean outta him. Eddie’s room resembled a garbage tip bomb-site most likely.

Eddie swallows. “You know. Just- some light maintenance.” He shrugs. That was the most plausible answer his brain spat out upfront.

“On a Saturday night?”

“I’m um, totally slammed on Sunday.” He admits. Clapping off his hands.

“Kid. How stupid do you think I am. Because frankly, all I’ve seen, is all I need to see. If you get my drift.”

Eddie turns away and continues his frantic cleaning. Polishing a mug with his shirt sleeve.

“I have… guests… coming over tonight.” If he makes it plural maybe he can get away with it.

“Your DND club.” Wayne guesses. This earns a snort from the metalhead.

“I once saw Gareth eat pizza off the canteen floor. Like I’d bother dusting here for those doofuses.” He grins.

“Then question remains; who are you dusting, and laundry-doing and taking out the spiders for?” Wayne leans forward and asks. Scratching the stubble at the side of his grizzled jaw.

Eddie clings to silence. Which he never does. Never ever does this boy exist without noise bursting out his mouth. Looks like a sheepish kid again.

Wayne’s gaze meets his. ‘Well?’

Cause he would support whomever Eddie chose to bring home. Girl or boy, or undecided. He’s no dummy. He’s got eyes in his head. He’s seen things. The little quirky tics in Eddie’s character when he likes someone. He knows his kid pretty darn well enough by now.

“A girl.” Eddie concludes turning away, like it was casual, cool, and nothing to get worked up over. No biggie. Just… the girl of my dreams. So what? I can be casual about this. It’s totally fine. And normal. Normally fine.

“A girl.” Wayne nods.

“Change this record. It’s skipping.” Eddie leers. Pointing a funny wagging finger at his relative.

“This girl. She royalty or something.”

Eddie cuts a look. It’s just bordering on grumpy and peeved.

“Listen, she ain’t coming to inspect the place or audit us. A little dust and clutter isn’t gonna put her off spending time with you, now is it.”

Eddie sighs. Itched the back of his head. Screwed his eyes shut.

“No. See man. I wanted to be presentable. Cause when she walks in this trailer, she’s gonna be expecting me to look and act like sleazy, greasy trailer trash. And I just. Wanna-“ he clenched his fists.

“Just wanna be….presentable.” He mumbled. Repeating. As he softly scuffed the couch arm with his foot. He sighed. Rubbed a dusty knuckle in his eye until stars scrawled black and bursting.

“Goddd. Look at me. I’ve showered twice. And I untangled the knots out my hair. I used that fancy bar soap I got for xmas that smells like lemons. I brushed my teeth for a whole two minutes. May have used a splash of your cologne. That stung like hell by the way.” He added naughtily. Pinching the collar of his shirt in two fingers and flapping it up and down to cool himself off.

“I’m sweaty. My hair feels itchy. I don’t know what I’m gonna say. She’s gonna be stunning, and awesome and I feel like I’m having a heart seizure or probably a stroke over here. I don’t know man. Fuck-“

Wayne let’s him get it out. As he’s learned with Eddie sometimes it’s best. He often just needed a ramble. To let his tongue lash til he ran dry.

He kicked the couch again. Harder. Still standing up tall on it.

“What’s she like, this girl. She into the same kinda stuff as you?” Wayne enquired.

It dipped muzzily into his big soft heart seeing Eddies mouth hooked right up into a petite smile when he asked about you. One side curls.

“No she’s, uh, she likes Punk music and Bowie, Talking Heads, Billy Idol, and like, you should hear her, she talks about all these artists and shit I’ve never heard of. It’s amazing-“

She’s entirely too good for the likes of me.

“She’s so cool. Effortlessly cool y’know?- And creative?! She likes scary movies and she works in the record store. She hates jocks. I cannot believe she’s actually bothering to look twice at a moron like me. Super senior, King of the freaks.” He jabs his fingers into his bony skull clad chest.

Because Eddie didn’t think it was exactly a secret that flunk out’s like him, were never exactly crawling in babes, or cramming in dates on the weekends.

“I really like her.” He mumbled openly. Wiping palms on his jeans. That’s what this effort all whittled down too.

He couldn’t meet Wayne’s eyes as he said it. It seemed to good to be true. His hopes were so little. Floundering seeds.

He wanted this to go well. He whirled his eyes elsewhere and fidgeted through his words. Typical Eddie.

“I gathered as much from your general-“ Wayne waved his hand around in the air of the living room and towards the kitchen “…Running round. Giving me whiplash just watching you, kid.” He stubs out his cigarette.

Eddie stays where he is. Stood couch top. Absorbing the information Wayne fed him.

“Why don’t you get down from there. Leave the dusting the hell alone. And just relax.” He soothes. Always a balm to the frizzy fraying nerves.

Eddie looks like it could be a trap if he dares to let himself chill out. You say it like it’s easy.

“She must like you to come all the way out here to spend time with you. Just be yourself. I guarantee you, that’s what she’s interested in. Not the state of this place.” He shifts in his chair and groans a little. Adjusts his legs.

Eddie let’s out a huff. Slumps down the sofa and throws his body onto it. Crazy hair flicking after he moved. It’s fluffier too. Some lame attempt at his own hands to pretty it up from its usual insanity.

“What you guys planning on doing?” He seeks. Sips his coffee. Distraction worked well, too. He often found.

“Ordering pizza and watching a couple movies.” Eddie says up to the ceiling. Scanning for cobwebs. Fiddling with the rings on one hand. One knee twitching up and down.

He had the stack of videos ready on top of the TV. Night of the Living Dead. Nightmare on Elm Street. And then Ghostbusters for something undeniably cheesy. The microwave popcorn in the kitchen. A number for the pizza place hemmed in on the fridge with magnets, as per usual.

Wayne makes a soft noise at the back of his throat at hearing that. A smile creeps on his lips. He idly reads the folded back of his paper.

“What?” Eddie quizzes.

Wayne’s smile grows if anything.

“I may be an old man. But I was young once. I do happen to know what that means.” He stared Eddie down in that parental way.

“You’re gonna be careful with this girl, right. Safe sex ain’t no joke.”

That did it.

“Aww man, c’mon.” Eddie choked, cringing, as he launched himself up out the sofa and quickly scurried away like a jangly pillar of goth black missile. Aimed sharpish in another direction.

“It’s a first date, by the way. I’m not gonna be breaking out the condoms and whistles and bells here.” He lets out.

He’s shaking his head and losing himself in the confines of his room. Music is softly shredding out the low stereo. Alice Coopers ‘Welcome to my Nightmare’ sneers softly into his room. He cranks it up.

Wayne stood up. Smiling and shaking his head in making his kid cringe. Gathering his things for work. Walking to the kitchen slowly to empty the dregs of his cup. Leave it in the sink for later. He grabs his things as he walks on past the front door. Heavy work boots crushing soft on the carpets and then the lino.

He walks right up to Eddie’s door, peers into the clustered metal gilded mess of his room.

Shocked to notice he could actually see the floor. And the raunchy pin ups were safely shepherded away inside the closet. The playboy magazines he pretends he doesn’t know about shoved under the bed. The dresser and side tables were still messy as. There’s been an attempt at making the bed. The sheets are straightened and tucked in.

“Listen now, you’re 20 year old man, and you have a zipper. I won’t say any more than that. But you best play it safe. Y’hear?”

“NO.” Eddie fairly shrieks.

“Not listening anymore.” Comes the answer as he faffs around and pretends to be busy with some things in his closet.

“Eddie.” Wayne smiles.

He turns back around and stands up. Expression of limited enthusiasm.

“Wayne. I am the town fuck up in a lot of ways. But not in this way.” He marched back to his bedside. Throws the blue Trojan condom packet up in the air and catches it. A silent ‘see?’

His uncles brow crooks up. Shuffling his wallet into his jeans. Pulling on his heavy fleece lined denim jacket. “Jeez. Those things still in date?”

Eddies face falls.

“They expire?” He flips the packet and looks at the back.

“Lord. I am gettin out of here. Save me some pizza would ya.” Wayne dismisses with a shake of his old head.

This high school romance thing was better left a young man’s game.

Eddie thinks he forgets how to breathe, when the buttery headlights of your car slant into the big window of the trailer.

He poked his head out the door earlier. The air is cool out tonight. Hung with moisture, so thick you could sip at it. Icy cold like a dirty clear martini. The kind of night that bloats up and leaves the taste of wet grass on your tongue.

The headlights are a sobering neon yellow under the cushy spring night that was churning slowly in dregs and streaks, to a violet. Lilac bathed air punched with cold. One of those night slow nights that gets slipped into dark majesty, and the stars cluster bright like winking pearls.

Eddie’s eyes have been on the windows for an hour. He’s paced groves in this thick matted carpet, he’s sure of it. Eyes set on the windows like he’s on a mission. Trying not to chew his nails. Got him acting like a pound mongrel waiting for their owner to come home.

The car lights flick off. Engine cuts dead.

And now he can hear the slam of your car door. His heart rockets into overdrive with scary amounts of adrenaline and stabbing excitement that will, he’s sure, undeniably make a moron out of him before then night is out.

You’re stepping up the creaky porch. He knows those snaps and shifts of the old steps. You’re knocking on his door.

He takes a deep breath. Fills his crappy sentimental lungs, that he placated with a cigarette, twenty ache filled minutes ago.

He cannot open the door fast enough, and the sight of you the other side, roundhouse whirls into his chest. Smacks right between the ribs. Fists him by the front of his t-shirt and yanks-

You’re like that song Wayne hums and taps his feet too, when he makes eggs on a Sunday mo rning. ‘Like being hit by a falling tree, woman, woman what you do to me.’

“Ah woman bearing beer. You’re definitely welcome inside.” He grins. Leaning against his door.

He thinks he keeps on imagining how pretty you are. But here you stand with the cheap orange light of the trailer washing back over you, haloing your body like a wash of heaven, and he’s gotta remember not to stare.

You’ve brushed this smoky-sparkly purple eyeshadow on. Nightshade purple like the sky out tonight. Big lashes all dark too. Your lips are pink shiny and glossy. (You so totally stole a tube from Linda, naughty pencils)

You’re wearing a brown corduroy skirt and a black polo neck. Long brown leather boots up to your calves. Your hair is so silky. Eyes shimmering this angel honey warmth at him.

You’re holding an eggshell coloured plate of Saran-wrapped cookies. Piled high and dark chocolate. In your other hand you have a six pack of coors and something else-

“Best part?” You begin.

You hold something up, tilt your head and there’s that smile.

The thing you hold, it’s all canine teeth and fake tufts of hair. Two triangle ears. Tacky acetic smell of plastic. “For the Heist.”

A wolf man mask. A smile leaps onto his lips.

“You think of everything.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Got yours I hope Pencils?” He asks with a levelled look as he widens the door for you to step in.

“It’s in the car. Messes up my hair.” You shrug. You climb up the last uneven wedge of a step and move to come inside.

“Hey.” You smile. He liked that you goofed around first. Went traditional greeting second.

“Hey back.” He said softly. Pretty smile all wide. Espresso dark eyes fixed unendingly on your face.

You nervously chew your lip and gaze down. You want to lean over and kiss his cheek but didn’t want to overstep or be weird about it.

You clunkily flounder on the doormat. Self doubt lingers on your fingertips. You wish you could just escape into the confidence to lean over and kiss him like you did the other night. But then you had a belly of vodka and Dutch courage backing you up.

Decide hand him over the plate of cookies. He can smell the cocoa and sugar sneaking out when he takes the thing off you. “For you-“ you gift.

“Troops made it. Well done boys.” It makes you chuckle. Wiggles the plate in one hand and talks to the cookies.

“Hope you got a sweet tooth. I made so many.”

“Always.” He answers to your enquiry. “My diet is 98% Oreos and mini powdered donuts.” He beams.

You nudge the beers in your hand too. “Fridge?”

He takes them off you gently. “Yeah, here, gimme.” He bundled them up and stepped past you. The door snapped shut behind him and you took in the space as Eddie padded to the fridge.

You smile as you gaze around the walls. The scratchy orange curtains. The warmness of the lamps splashing up light. A very well beloved couch and all the mug keepsakes and hats on the walls. It’s cosy. It’s a home. Capital H. Just like yours. You can see that from one glance.

The Campbell’s soup can used as an ashtray cause the actual red glass ashtray next to it was overflowing with pocket junk. The plaid shirts yet to be ironed, crumpled somewhat clumsily in a laundry basket. Some sepia family pictures tacked to the space above the counter where the sun won’t bleach them. The red pansy pattern on the sofa that clashes with the lone saggy yellow throw pillow. The marbled malty brown carpet.

A place that sure wasn’t fancy, but had character and warmth in swathes more than anything designer and clinical green money could buy. It’s a sagging trailer sure, no hiding that. But you imagine with a cold shower of outside patting at the roof, these friendly yellow walls would swallow you up in their charming blanket of old cigarettes, male cologne and powder dreamy detergent. Some scratchy record playing blues and a snuggly throw on that couch, it would be a sort of enclosing haven.

“It’s uh- not much. But… a place to crash or to hang your hat, as Wayne says.” Eddie trails off. Setting the cookies on the counter. Nodding in jest towards the numerous baseball caps.

“I like it. Honestly. You should see my house. Moms hippy-bohemian posters and pretty strange sense of interior decor reigns strong.” You tell him.

“I’d like to see that.” He says as he clunks beers in the ancient whirring fridge. You smile over at him. You nod and share eye contact.

“Come through the front door this time though, perhaps. Save your ass from that thorny rose bush.” You encourage warmly.

“Awh. You’re worried about the state of my ass.” He preens. Leans against the counter and gives you moony eyes.

“Damn right. Someone’s got to be.” You answer back.

“Thank heaven it’s you.” He simpers. Smile

Slowly crawls up and your stomach warms all dizzy. You bite your lip.

“Drink?” He offers. Hands splayed over the counter. “We got Pepsi, ginger ale.”

“Actually, a beer would be great.” You nod. Cold buzz light give you some courage to finally bump your mouth to those soft sweet lips you adore. And had missed.

You should have done it tonight the second he opened the door. Damn politeness. You should’ve sprung on him.

“Two beers. Coming up.” He grins. Drums the counter with open slaps of his hands. Dives for the fridge.

You unzip your boots. Worried about getting wet marks on the floor.

“Princess. Your shoes are probably cleaner than this carpet.” Eddie explains wryly from behind the fridge.

Coming back to see you standing into the mushy carpet in your bare feet. Painted toes mulberry purple. Sparkles glitter gritty over the deep paint.

“It’s the principle of the thing now, Munson.” You say as you toe them off. Stuff your socks inside. You place them by the door and wander over to the jut of the counter. Standing the other side looking at him. His skin itches and leaps with the realisation of your smiling at him. He more than likes it.

He’s got the beers before him. Cracking them open. The fizz and the hoppy mist. He slides yours on over for you to catch like a saloon bar in a western.

“Mi’lady” He says as he raises his can up for you to crash them together in a toast. A tinny clank where you toast. His rings clack on the side of the can.

“Thank you, gallant Knight.” You flatter. After taking back a cold hop filled sip.

It makes you think of that slanted drunken time in Kyle’s garden. Sharing polite sips of a warm beer. Stealing glances under fringes and sparing longing looks.

You watch his brows raise with surprise at your choice of title. “And here, I thought I was the jangly belled jester dude. Or the scrawny but lovable bard.” He grins all toothy.

“Fraid not. You’re my Knight in shining DIO vest.” You tell him.

If you had to, you’d rearrange the entire solar system by hand to see the sight of Eddie Munson blush again the way he is now. His cheeks full with it.

He scratches the back of his neck and looks like he wants to twirl away and hide in his hair all bashful.

“You rescued me from the pack of Ogres and brought me healing Campbells aid. Not to mention some very seriously delicious behaviour in a closet.” You played along. Fiddling your fingertips along the edge of the counter. “That’s Knightly behaviour, my guy.” You nod.

“You’d be ok with being my maiden then, huh?” He can’t ignore the very bloated intent behind those words. Chews the inside of his lower lip. He can taste beer and he’s so aching to kiss you again.

“More than ok.” You met his longing brown gaze. Those melty eyes standing stark under that chippy fringe. “Hey, as long as you don’t think I’m the Dragon. I’m fine with whatever.” You hold your hands up.

His smile brightens. “I think we all know who the dragon is, pencils.”

You laugh.

His heart swoons.

And then it twirls somewhere different. He looks intent. Like he wants to grab something but can’t. Pent up. Like he’s digging fingers into the counter to keep from something else.

“Ok, excuse the shit outta me but, fuck it, I should have done this the second I saw you tonight.”

He suddenly bursts into movement around the counter. You follow where he rounds it in record time. Chain jangling. Socked feet padding the floor.

Emotions are chunky jagged things that can’t contain him. Slip off his body like oil slick. Beat off him like rain bouncing off concrete. It can’t contain him or maybe it’s the other way around.

He comes your side and you can barely have a breath before he’s cupped your neck either side, so gentle, and pushed his lips onto yours in a kiss so sweet it made your brain wipe blank.

His body cages you back into the counter. Tile top digging the back of your waist. Your hands flounder for a second. You smile to his lips before your hands come to his back. His belt buckle jams to your skirt and it makes your stomach flutter with want.

He tastes the same and it’s a flavour you’re oddly fascinated by. Smoky brush and hoppy beer. Maybe a little acrid but you don’t mind it. So traditionally Eddie it makes your knees wobble.

His thumb is soft on the line of your jaw. Savours the way He languidly kisses you out of breath. He swallows a sugary clasp of a little gasping noise you made. Wants more- more more more of them. He’s caught in your orbit and never wants to fall out of this clutch of your gravity.

Tastes the gloss off your mouth and he prays you don’t think him a massive perverted creep for this.

When you break for air, his lips don’t wander far. Spit wet and near yours and now he’s wearing sugar high pink gloss too. His nose lays along the line of yours.

“Sorry-“ He gasps.

He may have short circuited your brain with that kiss. Glitched something out for sure.

“I don’t see what sorry has to do with that.” You murmur softly. Leaning up to brush your nose into his. Try to contain this harsh vein buzz he’s got going in you.

“Inviting you over to my trailer and mauling you.” He gasps as he rakes a soft brush of hair off your cheek. Back tenderly behind your soft ear.

You push on your tiptoes. Capture his mouth in a slowly melting peck. Hand sliding across his cheek. Palming a cheekbone. Fingertips nesting in that dry wild mane.

“I don’t mind a little mauling.” You explain. He rests his hands on your hips with a self satisfied chuckle. Thumbs stroking the waistband of your skirt.

“Not very Knightly.” He quipped. Going dumb the way you plucked kisses at his mouth in-between his attempts to speak.

“Chastity is overrated. I’m not waiting in a fucking tower to protect my virtue.” You tell him.

You’ve got his fucking chest skipping and his heart is on the roof of his mouth. Cheeks ache from smiling.

He holds your waist like he’s afraid you’ll move or drift away. Ridiculous. You’ve patiently waited to get here. You’re not budging. Eyes set on yours. The wet gloss glimmer of your lips and those eyes he pathetically wants to stare into like he’s discovered a new form of Eden.

“I can’t believe I didn’t work up the courage to talk to you sooner.” Bursts out his mouth before he can stop it. A shy little confession that he feels very nerdy to have given a voice too.

“Wanna know something?” You tell him all softly. Stroking over the wavy tips of those choppy bangs.

“If not guess I’ll just kiss it outta you…” He decides. Eyes dizzily on your lips. His hips sway into you and he tilts his head to plant a sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I think I had a crush on you from the very second you got sat behind me in history class.” You explain.

You couldn’t help it. There you were all wrapped and stirred up in your love of punk and anarchy. And then in walks this crazy, messy leather clad and metal dipped kid with doe eyes and trouble stroked deep into his smile. The frenzy and the non-conformity. Clutched you good.

“Why do you think I always tapped on your shoulder asking for a pencil, pencils?” He teased. But he wasn’t done;

Sense slotted into place.

“Do you know why I call you that by the way?” He checks. Voice such a soft chasm of purity.

“I assumed the way I’m always covered in graphite and ink, and paint splatters.” You shrugged.

“No.” He raises your hand up and marks a kiss the back of it. “But I do really dig that look on you.”

“Alas-“ He continued. “Its because you never snapped at me. Never once rolled your eyes or ignored me when I tapped on your shoulder. You didn’t dismiss me the way everyone else did.”

You’re floored. Stood pinned to this counter and you’re so touched.

“You always gave me a pencil. Always. And you smiled at me as you did it. Didn’t tell me to keep it with disgust or bark that you wanted it back right after. Look at it like you’d contract rabies from being touching something I’d used.”

You indeed smiled at him. You asked about the patches on his vest. About the bands you’d not heard of. Told him the answer to a random question of the pop quiz if you saw him struggling. Twisted around and caught sight of the horned devil skull he was doodling and thought it was cool.

You lit up when he came into class or when he said something funny. And sure, he did show off in the hopes it would earn that beam of yours. He always felt like opportunity slipped out his hands when you scurried away after class finished.

He tried every day, to stay and catch your eye- make you laugh again. Just something to rouse that little kernel of connection he had to you. And when he saw you around you were always alongside the blonde one he assumed was too cool to approach.

“Wow, we’re morons. It’s only taken us this long to get things going.” You supplied casually.

“Pencils. Trust me. I noticed you beside that blonde poodle friend of yours a lot. I thought how pretty and awesome you seemed. Would’ve tried to talk to you, but I kinda thought you hated me.” He admits with a wince.

“Why?” You ask almost sadly. Ready to crunch up your own conscience in guilt.

“That’s what people usually do. They don’t even get to know me they just decide to skip right to the ‘hating my guts’ part.”

You shake your head. Boldly.

“Not this people.” You say. Cupping his cheek. “And I’d like to spend a lot of time proving that tonight.”

Your free hand slunk to his waist. Holding him with a perfectly lovely touch that has his knees swooning. Fuck it, yes. He could swoon too.

He smiles at that. And it’s so stunningly honest it makes the slippy walls of your heart ache. Lays his lips onto yours again.

“What’s say we order this pizza, get buzzed and uh, do some very dirty hand stuff on the couch whilst we pretend to be interested in it?” He grins.

“Perfect.” You slip up and kiss him again. Arms crossed over his shoulders. Body entirely pasted to his.

“Does this mean we’re officially dating now?” You ask him sweetly when you pull back. Not having moved one inch away. Engrossed, entangled and entwined.

“It better.” He nudged his nose to yours. And it really was as simple as that.

“Fuck. I wanna kiss you again. Can I-“ He started, and before you can even answer. Before your tongue can shape and push words out your teeth. He’s on you again.

“Baby. We’re way past asking permission.” You break away and breathily tell him as the kissing gets heavier, more intense. Arms squeeze harder. Getting closer when there’s no room to spare already. Crushed. No breath. It’s glorious.

“Don’t tell me that.” He flirts. If you give him free-reign, you’ll never be able to reel him back again. You just won’t. He’s far too, far gone.

“Believe I just did.” You tell him. Ballsy.

He leads you stumbling by the waist over to the couch. Smiling. Nibbling your lower lip. Sucking and his tongue sweeping yours. Knocking and kissing, knees touching. Falling and falling into each other again. You gasp where you awkwardly clash together on the lumpy couch cushions.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one Pencils.” He teases. Face all blushy and definitely love-drunk. Kiss dazed. Funny how you’d quite forgotten about those beers all of a sudden.

��Bring it on, Munson.” You urged.

🕷️This here? Oh no biggie. Just the next part of Eddie x Pencils 🕷️

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @stiegasaw @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @poppy-metal @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx

#eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #super freak series #stranger things s4 #stranger things #i would die for this man #punkwrites

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holdmytesseract · 4 months

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moodboard by @mochie85 | divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

a/n: The majority of you voted for a lil' sneak peek... And here it is! Enjoy! 💚 It's not proofread yet, so... 🙈

Smol sneak peek...

The pâtisserie was bustling with people - of course. After all, it was the best in downtown; yes, probably in whole New York City.

With your hand was snugly wrapped up in Loki's bigger hand, you waited patiently in line until it was your turn. "Hi, we have an appointment for a wedding cake tasting," you explained to the friendly looking young man behind the counter. His eyes widened when he looked at you and Loki; recognising the both of you for sure. "Oh, uh, yes, give me a second, please..." He said nervously, looked down and seemed to search for something, until- "Ah, yes. Please follow me." You nodded with a smile. The young man's cheeks reddened and he smile bashfully back at you.

You and Loki followed him then to a little back room with two doors, a small grey sofa, white counter and some bar stools. The wall was painted in a beautiful shade of pastel orange and a few art pictures hung here and there. It looked quite neat and cosy.

"Have a seat, please." The man gestured towards the sofa. "Riley will be with you in a minute." You smiled, "Thank you." while your fiancè gave him a nod. Once more the young guy smiled shyly and fumbled nervously with his fingers. "It's an honour to have you here, Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. Laufeyson."

For the first time since you entered the pâtisserie, Loki spoke up; leapfrogging you. "Well, it's a pleasure to be here." You silently agreed with the god; who still held your hand in a snug grip and made sure you were standing close to him.

Even though you were about to be married, he still showed the people who you belong to. _Guess some things never change,_ you thought with a smile; looking at your engulfed hand. You didn't care, though. Quite the opposite... Loki's slight possessiveness was attractive and admittedly sexy in your eyes.

The man opposite you blushed in a dark shade of red, "That's great to hear." before shuffling his feet. He was on the verge of leaving the room, but before he did, he turned around to face you and Loki once again; seemed now to have scratched all his bravery together and ask: "I-I know this is p-probably inappropriate to ask, b-but may I get an autograph l-later?"

You smiled brightly. The guy was kinda cute, you couldn't deny that. "Of course. Just hit us up before we leave again."

The young man's eyes twinkled with happiness - and relief. "T-Thank you." Then he left the little room and you and Loki alone.

About five minutes later, the other door at the side wall opened and in came a woman in 'workwear', bright pink hair, glasses and quite a few piercings.

You and Loki were sitting on the sofa - like instructed; hands still intertwined and resting in your lap. Your free hand was on Loki's thigh, close to his knee. When you saw the woman, you both stood up.

"Hi there!" She said in a happy, enthusiastic tone and crossed the distance to meet you and shake your hands. "I'm Riley, we talked on the phone. Nice to meet you." You shook her hand, smiling. "Y/N and Loki." The friendly woman winked, "I know." shook Loki's hand as well and gestured for the counter with the bar stools. "Shall we move over?" "Sure." You and the god followed Riley. She went behind the counter and you both got comfortable on the stools.

Baby Fever Crew: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @xthatpottahfanx @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @lokiforever @crimson25 @kimanne723 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @noideakitten @zombiesnips-blog @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @princess-ofthe-pages @coldnique @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokisrealpurpous @huntedmusicgardenn @lokischambermaid @mochie85

#the baby fever wedding #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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mncxbe · 11 months

Note

could i request something with the superstition of “if you can tie a cherry’s stem, that means you’re a good kisser” and dazai? i feel like he’s the type of loser who’d believe that sentiment

This may be the cutest request I got and YES he would definitely fall for that and would struggle to master the technique. I hope you like it anon♡

Cheri Cheri lady🍒

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Was a kiss all it took to earn a date with you?

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

It was the end of March and the cherry trees were almost in full bloom in Yokohama. The sweet, honey like scent of the flowers and the rosy petals, blown by a gentle breeze, were enough to make you feel like you were in another world.

Seeing the blossoms was all you could think about all day at work. Dazai noticed your aloof, almost nostalgic mood but didn't bring it up until the two of you left the office.

"Is everything alright? You seemed distant today"

"Yea, perfect actually. I was just really excited to see the cherry trees. Wanna join me?" you replied in a cheerful tone

The man could barely hide the look of surprise on his face. "Sure, I'd love to"

The two of you walked along the crowded streets of Yokohama until you reached Yamashita park. The trees bore a foliage of brilliant green and the air was fresh; it smelt like spring. As you strolled around the park Dazai noticed that pink and white petals covered the ground from place to place.

The cherry trees lined the wide alley next to the river.

"I used to come here with my parents when I was a kid" you began talking "We would sit next to the railing and look at the trees. My dad would often buy us cherries from a shop nearby and I remember they had this slightly sour taste, but nevertheless I loved them and~ oh sorry I'm kinda oversharing now"

"There's no need to aplogize. I like listening to you talk" replied your colleague. You took a seat on a bench under one of the blossomed trees and remained silent as you admired the scenery.

Dazai on the other hand only had eyes for you. He took in your features and couldn't help but marvel at how pretty, how serene you looked. You had a certain glimmer in your eyes, a longing of some sort but he couldn't quite place it. Occasional gusts of wind would blow the pink flowers off the branches; the petals delicately falling on your dark hair. He wanted to brush them off, to tuck a strand of your silky hair behind your ear and caress your face but he resisted the urge.

Instead, a caravan nearby caught is attention. The man was selling cherries. He swiftly got up and made his way to the merchant, buying a bag of cherries.

"Look what I just found" he said with a mischievous grin on his face as he dangled the bag in front of you.

"Thanks. I'm surprised they still sell them here." you replied, popping one of the fruits in your mouth. They had the same sour taste you so fondly remembered...

Half an hour later the sun began to set, painting the ink blue water of the river in a hue of red and orange.

"You know, Osamu. People say that if you can tie a cherry's stem with your tongue that means you're a good kisser."

"To tie? Really? How does it even work?"

He took one of the stems that had been discarded next to you and put it in his mouth. A smile rose to your lips as you watched the man next to you struggle to form the knot. After a few tries he finally got it.

"See, there's nothing I can't do. I'm a great kisser."

"I don't know about that. It's just a saying, it doesn't prove anything" you mocked playfully.

"Well then, how about I do something else to convince you"

His fingers slightly bruhed your cheek on their way to the nape of your neck and he pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips against yours. You softened in his embrace as his other arm went to the small of your back. The kiss was gentle and warm at first, but his tongue eventually slid past your lips earning a soft moan from you.

You felt Dazai smile. Being satisfied with your reaction he quickly pulled away, leaving you gasping for air.

"So, what do you think? I'm quite a good kisser, aren't I?"

You nodded slightly; your cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. Dazai ate one more cherry before leaning in again, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"There's other things I can do with my tongue too, bella."

"Osamu!" you snapped at him, playfully slapping his arm. "Don't say that here"

He only laughed, eyes locked with yours. When the sun was almost down you got up and, grabbing the empty bag of cherries, motioned him to get up.

"We gotta go now"

"Why? The trees are beautiful under the moonlight too. We should stay a bit longer."

"That would ruin tomorrow's date, wouldn't it?" you said with a wink.

"A date? Was a kiss all it took to earn a date with you?" he teased but got up and followed you.

"What can I say, Osamu. You're a great kisser."

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai bsd #dazai x reader #dazai x you #osamu dazai

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renren-006 · 10 months

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hello there! i absolutely adore your writing and saw that requests were open so i decided to send one in :) could you perhaps write a sierra six x reader where six has been acting kind of strange all day and the reader is confused. he’s just been avoiding eye contact and shyer so the reader teases him. from the reader’s teasing one thing leads to another and there’s eventual smut. but while they have sex he’s still acting all shy and stuff. sorry if this is kinda confusing hahaha. thank you!

Shy Boy | Sierra Six x Reader

warning: smut (female dominance) , court gentry being a very shy boy. word count: 653 A/n: hey hey!! i hope you enjoy this!! shy shy court gentry is very sweet to write! lmk if you have any other shy court request!! I also really love that you enjoy my writing! thank you so much for requesting something!

How were you supposed to know what goes through the Court's mind? He had always been distant about the thoughts that swirled in his head but today, today was different. The man wouldn't look at you and when he did he would just blush and return his focus to the last thing he was doing. It aggravates you, the man you love was ignoring you, or more so was so shy and flustered he couldn't look at you. You didn't know which one was worse; being ignored or your lover being shy towards you.

This went on for about a few hours. You decided to take things into your own hands and tease him relentlessly. It was easy to tease Court on a normal day but because he had been so shy and distant lately you knew your boldness would catch him more off guard than normal.

“Hey baby” you said, in a little bit of a huskier tone than normal. Court looked up from the book he was reading on the couch to see you above him. His cheeks reddened and he blushed.

“Hey…” he said, drawing out his sentence. “What are you um, up to?”

“Oh me, not much just wondering what you're doing” you said to him, you slowly sat down in his lap letting your hands run over his shirt. His book ended up on the floor and his hands found your waist.

“Baby?” he asked shyly. You knew your mission like you knew the map of him. You unbuttoned his shirt slowly keeping your eyes on his. He never broke eye contact, even when his shirt found the floor.

“Still shy?” you asked, and the little nod he gave you helped you know that tonight, you were in control of everything, “Okay baby”

That night it was you in controle, it was your turn to dictate what happens. Normally you would want him to control it, want him to make you beg, but tonight it was enticing wanting to hear the begging come from him. The bed was warm from the afternoon sun on it and the almost sunset light gave Court a new glow.

He was still shy under you, still glowing in that light while you rode him and was still so shy about making a sound while you gave him pleasure. Your hips rocked back and forth on top of him sending waves into you and his soft whimpers from under you made you rock harder on top of him. The slight bounces broke Court from his shy trance and once the moans from both of you filled the room the man that you loved with came back to you all shyness gone. He took over letting you fall on top of him, kissing your neck while he pounded into you, making you feel breathless. His hips satisfied you, and satisfied the shy boy under you.

He laid next to you. Skin exposed to the now pink and orange sky. You turned towards him, the apartment windows letting all the sunset light, pinks oranges and blues just cascaded over the room and the two of you. “Why all the shyness Court?” you asked, breaking silence.

“I…didn't know how to talk about what I wanted” he said, a little shy but not as shy as before.

“What did you want?” you asked, concerned letting yourself sit up to face him.

“You, in control” he told you, your smile broke the awkwardness making Court sigh in relaxation.

“If you want me in controle, ask, i'll do it again” You told the man you loved and Court took you in his arms, the heat and sweat not bothering you as he hugged you. The two of you fell asleep to the setting sun and the comfort of the two of you.

"I love you y/n" he whispered before you both fell into a comfortable and relaxing sleep.

#the grey man #the grey man fan fiction #court gentry #court gentry x reader #i am so in love with six its not even funny #sierra six x reader #sierra six #sierra six x you #i love ryan gosling

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dballzposting · 5 months

Text

OK so long story short the other day I was abusing the computers at my job to look up dragon ball characters and I came across THIS IMAGE of GOTEN that I found out was from DRAGON BALL AF which is a fan-made thing and idk . Dont worry about the details.

I thought it was soooo cool like put my chin in my hands and sigh lovingly. But also it was more of a rant-and-rave kind of adoration. Becasue I couodt beleieve how cool it was. Becasue here is why

Im super bad at deisgns or redesigns and sometimes I have epic ideas but if I don't then I don't. I think it would be stellar if we had a design for Goten & Trunks when they're older than GT and running the sword dojo. And I've tried to cook some up. But it vexes me for two reasons. First of all Dragon Ball deisgns when colored are gaudy and stupid looking. But also sometimes they use neutral colors. And they're eccentric and unique. And I try to mix all of these factors and the result Does Not Work. Becasue despite the plentiful love that I have for colors, I Do Not Understand Color Theory. Definitely not enough to push it to its limits like dragon ball does. My second problem is the actual clothes themselves. There is something wrong with me that makes it so that i eschew research like my life depends on it. I'm sure it's totally possible to gather a minimal understanding of what sorts of clothing / eras / disciplines certain dragon ball styles are based on, and to cross-reference that with what is actually depicted in dragonball, and come up with an outfit that gels. But I cannot do that. So yeah

This outfit featured here is so familiar yet unique enough to turn my head a bit. For an example. The yellow above his shoes. What is that. Don't answer that. I'm in love either way

THEY JUST ... PICKED TWO COLORS? That's it? THAT'S ALLOWED ????? Just TWO COLORS and only ONE of them isn't a dead-tone-neutral-non-color. Well I guess it's four colors, and still, only one (yellow) isn't a non-color (grey and white and black). I'M SO IMPRESSED !?!??!?!!??

The only idea that I had for post-GT Goten was FOR SOME REASON the visual flair of something long and sharply flowing off of him. Like a scarf, or a long sash, or a Dr Drakken style rattail. But I can't do all three. Becasue that's too much. But I like all three. So IDK what to do.

YEAH THEY WENT ON AHEAD AND GAVE HIM THIS SASH ON HIS HEAD. Sure. Go on ahead. Throw it on there. Looks good. Good contrast against his black hair. Makes it to you can draw his eyebrows over it and so he can emote clearly. SO GENIUS. So simple. I'm gobsmacked

HE'S COLORED LIKE A BUMBLE BEE ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!

My conclusion is that this is the best non-canon design of adult Goten that has ever been and we should all adopt it immediately from Dragon Ball AF. I am so stunned and impressed by the fact that he is wearing just grey and yellow. I have tried to break down all of Goten's canon outfits to find a pattern in the color schemes but I could not find one. But I can tell when it works for him or not and I don't understand how or why. I have at various points tried to design new outfits for him. I have experimented with yellow, teal, pink... Never really red because red only appears on two of his outfits in a minor way. More astutely because red is not really Him (like it is for Bura or Videl).

Definitely the most promising color I've found for him is Yellow. It's a sunshine-soulchild color. But I still haven't figured out how to practically incorporate it. For example, is it a predominate color or one of several? I've seen dragon ball outfits go either way. I definitely prefer the former becasue that's how I'm used to seeing it in my silly little western cartoons - every character has a color, don't they? And that's Their color. But this is dragon ball.

If you pull a warm yellow or pair it with orange, you are reminded of kid Goten and his orange gi. If you keep it colder or pair it with green, you get something reminding you of his EOZ "Goten Son" shirt. But what if you want something new? The next step in the evolution of Son Goten, but still unmistakably him? You would want to stay away from yellow and orange, becasue Trunks wears a lot of that himself. What about yellow and not a green bice, but a forest green? What about muddy non-colors? Dragon ball colors tend to be warm-shifted becasue it was the 90s, but you can work within that color range. But exactly HOW? What about yellow and pink? Teal? Aqua?? You can't use lavender (Trunks's color). And to be fair I have experimented with grey before, since he wears grey pants in DBS:SH. But I always tried to find other colors to shoehorn in there because I thought I had to. And what's really left...?

DRAGON BALL AF has the answers.

Yellow and GREY.

....THAT;S IT!!!!!!!!!!!

A mature grey. NO OTHER FLUFF.Just straight up. Yelloew and grey.

And he looks like a bumble bee. I love bumble bees. You love bumble bees. He loves bumble bees. We all love bumble bees.

I will close with a quote:

"Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see." (Arthur Schopenhauer, 1788-1860).

THIS DESIGN IS GENIUS.

Thank You ALL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#JUST. UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!#SOOOOO GOOD....#dballz posting #goten

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aprilthearcher · 1 year

Text

roman roy x reader [blurb]

wordcount: 809

warnings: cuss words, english is not my first language and this is not edited; also, not my pictures. first time writing after a long time and first time writing roman as well, so perhaps he’s a little ooc ? i’m also a huge taylor swift fan and this was written based on “welcome to new york”

The sun was setting down the horizon, painting the sky different shades of blue, orange, and some specs of pink, when the private jet landed from its journey all the way from London to the outskirts of New York City. The stars were going to appear soon; one could see the shining waning crescent moon up there.

There was a company car already waiting for her, which she would’ve thought had been sent by her dad were it not for the man leaning funny against the back door while looking down at his phone. She recognised him too well for her own good even after a couple of years without seeing each other. How could she not when she had spent her whole childhood running around his house, getting yelled at by Logan for making a mess, chastised by her father for making her godfather mad; having sleepovers with his sister that turned out to be sleepovers with him, sharing summer vacations by the side of the pool until Kendall and Connor taught her how to swim.

The click of her high heels walking down the stairs of the jet seemed to have alerted him of her presence. His eyes went quickly up and down her figure, finally setting on her face. She looked exactly the same yet entirely different at the same time.

“If it isn't (Y/N) Vernon in the flesh, ladies and gents,” he screamed, bringing both of his arms to his chest and doing some sort of imitation of a reverence. “Did you take the Queen’s place up there in little England? Took control of Buckingham Palace?”

“I was about to, actually”, she said with a small smile on her face and shiny, bright eyes she would never admit were for seeing him after so long, “but then I saw the mess you’ve all gotten yourself into”.

“Look at you, miss ‘I-sound-all-poshy’, you got an accent”.

“No, I don’t,” (Y/N) protested, scrunching up her face.

“Oh, you so totally do”.

“Shut up, Roman,” finally acknowledging him.

“It’s not my fault you sold yourself to the fucking brits, darling,” he said, replicating a butchered british accent of the pet name, while she started walking towards the other side of the vehicle where the chauffeur held the door open for her.

Once they were both inside the car, on their way to Logan’s apartment — her father had told her they would be waiting for her there for some “welcome home” lame party —, (Y/N) took off her heels, then let her head fall against the window to look at the city she had left more than half a decade ago.

When they started to approach the city centre, the sky had turned a deep tone of blue, stars barely visible because of the light pollution now. Her eyes were beginning to feel heavy the moment she heard him speak.

“You know, you should probably sleep a little before you encounter the sharks again after so long”. The sentence was whispered, almost as if he were afraid she’d already fallen asleep.

“I’m gonna miss the view.”

Roman snorted at her comment, “What view are you talking about? Tall buildings and, and fucking blinding lights?”

“Maybe I missed the blinding lights.”

“Oh yeah and fucking traffic too.”

“There’s traffic in London too, you know”.

“Of course I know that, you idiot, there’s also fucking blinding lights everywhere in London too, don’t you know that?”

(Y/N) turned her head to face him. She smiled, the expression on her face full of tiredness from the trip. Roman noticed it right away.

“Get some sleep, you baby,” he insisted. “New York is not gonna disappear just because you rest for two fucking minutes”.

The car ride fell silent then. It was nice. It was home. It was undisturbed peace, one they both knew wouldn’t last long; they’d soon be sucked back into the unfiltered chaos it was Waystar and its twisted insides.

Just before she could fall asleep, (Y/N) managed to croak a question. “Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”.

“What? My family? Yeah, they fucking do”.

She shook her head softly. “Not your family, silly, the city. New York”. (Y/N) looked at him with hooded eyes, Roman had his eyebrows drawn together.

“Yeah, I - I guess. But now,” he answered with his eyes set on hers only, “now I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Me neither.” She managed to reply with a content smile through the sleepiness.

“Stop fighting the sleep or you’re gonna keep asking random questions, you weirdo.”

When she didn’t answer, he knew she’d finally taken his advice. Shrugging off his dark, woolen coat, Roman placed it on top of her upper body in an attempt to keep her from getting too cold, perhaps even to protect her against the crumbling ruins of the world outside.

#roman roy x reader #succession #roman roy x you #reader insert #fluff #succession x reader #roman roy #roy family

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cauldron-of-oddities · 2 months

Text

Blue

Ekko had always loved her hair, long, soft, and oh so blue. Blue caught the light a hundred different ways, blue that soothed, blue that lured. That love of blue should have been his first clue.

Sure, he himself would be clad in browns, greens and oranges, all lovely earthy tones. But to look at? Blue. Always blue.

Powder was his best friend, his cleverest friend, and his prettiest friend, too. Sure, he was only ten, but he knew. He knew they'd be two of a feather.

He wasn't quite sure how to share how he felt, but she loved gifts and hugs, and with his keen sight, he found many gifts. Things castaway by others that were still good, he had no need to keep them so she could have them and grace him with her smile. And hugs, well, he had plenty of those, and really, those were for him too. He really liked them too.

When he was twelve and she eleven, on a lazy afternoon, they were tinkering away in the room she shared with her siblings. He gave into the urge to finally touch all that blue (not like the little playful tugs that came before).

“Can I braid your hair?” he asked before the nerve left him.

“Huh?” Large blue eyes looked up at him from her project.

“Um, your hair, it's coming loose, would you like..? Could I braid it for you?"

“Oh. Yeah, that be nice.”

Gently brushing, parting, and folding her hair, the two lost sense of time. When their feathers came, it would be called preening, and bonded pairs did that for each other. The unbidden thought causing fierce heat rose to his cheeks. It left him all pleasantly tingly inside, though.

He finishes her braids and keeps the last bit in his hands. He wants to give voice to what he feels.

“Umm, Pow, I uh…”

She looks over her shoulder with a relaxed hum. Blue once again robs him of his voice, looking in those deep blue eyes he resolves again to say something.

“Oi, love birds! Dinner!” Vi skwaked then cackled, changing form as she landed on the open windowsill, shaking the last of her eagle feathers off. The spell they'd found themselves under broke as they stuttered out protests. Powder's cheeks were a bright pink, and he thought that was a very pretty colour, too.

He's thirteen, and his feathers come in. His first change is freeing, soaring high in the sky with a silence and swiftness that left him giddy. And blue, he can still see blue!

He's kept his earthy tones, and he sees Pow staring at him. He looks up inquisitively at all those gathered for his birthday from his perch on the back of a chair.

“An owl.” She breathes and reaches out to run her fingers over his feathers like she's enchanted by him. No way would he ever tell just how nice that was or how pleased he felt when her next whispered words were “You're so soft…” For once no one makes a comment, even if from the corner of his eye he sees Mylo make kissy faces and a Vi give him a sound smack over the head.

A year later, when her feathers came, nothing went the same. She's all sleek and dark and wonderfully mischievous looking, and he wants to touch her too. Is she as smooth as she looks? His fingers itch, but before he can,

“A crow!” Mylo shouts out from behind him with disbelief and something like disdain in his voice. “Damn” he sniggers “Nice symbolism for the jinx."

Powder shrinks in on herself and with a violent ruffel of her feathers takes off. She misses how her sister and Ekko call for her. How Vander turns to Mylo and tells him off.

With a glare aimed at Mylo, Ekko shifts in his takeoff run. Luckily, he knows Powder just as well as her sister does. He knows she'll find the highest place to hide.

He finds her perched atop the highest tower in Zaun, puffed up and dejected. Stuck as a bird for now, your first shift would always last a day or so before you remembered how to be human shaped again.

He lands silently beside her and makes a soft sound, almost a coo. She looks at him only to turn away from him again.

He looks at her with his owl eyes and she's not black, not truly, she's the deepest indigo blue, and when the light catches her just so electric and sapphire blue glint and shine off of her.

The colour was utterly captivating. He shifts back to his human form and settels beside her. “I know what they say about crows, but you're you. You were you yesterday, you were you today, and you'll be you tomorrow, just a bit more free. That's a good thing.”

He finally reaches his hand towards her, slowly not to startle her. She's every bit as smooth as he thought, his fingers gliding over her head and back. The puff of her feathers settled down in the trail.

Sure, many stories say crows were bad luck and should not get along with any others, but owls and crows shared so much of the same meaning. And that was the important bit as far as he was concerned.

He remembered how good her words made him feel when he first changed. With the lightest of touches, he kept running his fingers over her back. “Your feathers are so smooth”. He utters quietly and with a deep breath for courage:

“Do you know how beautifully blue you glow?"

#timebomb #jinx x ekko #the owl and the crow #the mis adventures of the owl and the crow #fluff #shapeshifter au #more slice of life #ekkojinx

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madsdawls · 7 months

Text

Neon Frights review:

Okay so Neon Frights aka the most anticipated Skulltimate Secrets line up and I finally have them all, so what do I honestly think of them? overall I would give this Skulltimate line a 7 out of 10. I loved this line a lot and it's personally my favorite of the 3 that have released but there are a few glaring issues that bring it down for me as a whole. Anyway let's get into it!

The positives:

▪ The SHOES omg I love them so much I love how some of the pairs are comparable to Demonias which feels like a callback to MH's more alt fashion staples while keeping G3's new choice of styling of bold colors intact

▪The pet themed hoodies were so adorable I love the mesh sleeves on them especially my only issue though is I wish they were more detailed and they were easier to get over the ghouls heads

▪Loved the bold designed pleather skirts all of them looked cool

▪Love the overall bold color schemes on the dolls and their lockers were even masterfully done

▪All of the character jewelry and accessories were super cute and showed off the element of each characters personalities super well

▪The makeup looks were soo fierce and cunty they added so much to the entire line

The negatives:

▪The poly hair every ghoul is cursed with in this line. I loved the bold cuts and colors but oh my gosh the hair quality is HORRIBLE. This line is $30 dollars there is no reason a doll worth that much should have worse hair quality than the MH budget dolls.

▪I'm more neutral on this but I personally did not like the harness gimmick they were very cute on Frankie and Draculaura but over all they don't match or really add anything to this line? idk I would have scrapped that for a different accessory.

▪Absolutely hated the two tone pleather shorts. They were totally boring and lifeless compared to the rest of the boldness of the line and doesn't really read as a relaxing considering how stiff they are on the dolls. I think if they were fabric and more styled they may have been cuter.

▪Another reoccurring issue I don't like about Skulltimate Secrets is how they managed to make the earrings all hang sticking out to the sides so awkwardly when the other dolls don't have the earrings set in like this.

Doll rating:

Twyla: ☆☆☆☆ I thought this doll was gorgeous from the dark makeup to her entire outfits and accessories the only thing I despised about the doll was the horrid dry poly hair quality it fell out and broke so badly everytime I brushed it to the point I am considering commissioning a reroot it bothers me that much :/

Ghoulia:☆☆☆☆ I just loved the gamer girl aesthetic they went with for Ghoulia and the shade of green on all of her accessories and clothes though her pixel glasses were bent from how they packaged her and so they wouldn't stay on and also I hated the two tone shorts and blue harness that didn't match.

Toralei: ☆☆☆ I loved her bold makeup and short hair and most of her clothes however I don't think they balanced her colors very good it was just too much orange and I didn't like how her tail was removable instead of having the clothes have the hole for it.

Frankie: ☆☆☆☆☆ I think Frankie knocked this line out of the park the bold colors suits their character so well and they did not disappoint! I love the hot pink color pop on the side shave and eyebrow piercing it stands out so well with all of the other colors. I am inlove from head to toe Frankie pops out being totally in their element :)

Draculaura: ☆☆☆ I was probably most disappointed with Draculaura honestly I think they half heartedly slapped a doll together of her to be included in just because she is a fan favorite and big seller (especially true since she is in every SS line up even the upcoming Ballerina one). I loved her shoes, the pink bat top, and the black skirt with yellow straps but aside from that the design falls kinda flat. I think with the reintroduction of yellow in her color pallet giving her full neon pink hair would have been better suited.

To sum it up I think this line is still one of the best G3 has come up with but as a whole I wish they would do away with polypropylene and put more effort in the clothing pieces for $30 dollars it feels a little disappointing when you pay a lot for a doll and aren't satisfied with the obvious cheap quality.

#doll collecting #monster high #monsterhigh #doll collector #draculaura #frankie stein #twyla boogeyman #toralei stripe #ghoulia yelps #neon frights #skulltimate secrets #my dolls

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danihow · 1 year

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Flowers and flames

Prohero!Shoto Todoroki x Florist!Reader Boku no hero academia

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: You never planned on having a reunion with your ex boyfriend, and never in a million years you thought it would be in a victim-pro hero situation.

Warnings: Language, robbery, flower quirk reader, bad written drama, fire, kiribaku, and fluff? Idk.

A/N: Funny story is I started it LONG ago, like, season 4 was barely our and all, and I havent kept on watching the show so this is written as far as my knowledge goes, idk if anybody is dead, so im sorry there, literally publishing this like 3 years after but who cares.

In some cases, just sometimes, they were the right person, they were the one you were meant to be with for the rest of your life, the one whose arms ressemble a home, a safe place where nothing could keep on haunting you and your heart flutters, finally relaxing in happiness. They are, indeed, your soulmate.

Still, even if they are the most amazing person you've ever met, even if they are the one, in cases the timing makes you thing otherwise, that they were not what your heart made you think and they get away, the path of their life no longer colliding with yours in the way it did before. They are not longer your life, your everything, they are just strangers again, stranger with memories.

And it hurts at the beginning, the light in your chest is deemed away, the days take longer to pass by, the time stops but... not in the good way, time seems to be stuck in the middle of everything and nothing, giving eternal seconds to your heartbreak to eat you alive and tear, piece by piece, the strings that connected you to your will of living.

It all seems to be like a never ending snowstorm.

But now, winter has passed, your heart was alive again, your memories were tossed to the back of your brain as you welcomed a new light in your life: you were staring to love again but this time, yourself.

A bit more than six years have gone by since that realtionship ended. Around two thousand, two hundred a fifty days of your emotional healing process. The sun shining behind the tall building, just about in the angle that provided the earth with some beautiful orange hues of light that gave everything around you a little bit more of life.

You were alive, you were breathing, you were happy, and you were relieved.

Your work at the flower shop just ended, closing time making its way around. Just ten more minutes and then you could go back home. It had been a busy but provechous day, since August is the month with the most birthdays the amount of bouquet orders this month have been insane. Your hands have crafted a ton of bouquets today, all kind of bouquet, from formal bouquets that contained monotoned flowers to the most colorful mix everyone could imagine. But you didn't felt tired, you felt happy of making others happy.

The ring of the doorbell woke you from your memories, a tall man in a suit walking in the shop, his red eyes wandering the place with calm, eyeing the peonies, the roses, the sunflowers and the chrystaseums.

"Hi sir! How can I help you today?" Your voice came out in a friendly tone once the man standed right infront of the register.

"Hi, I have a dat- Y/N?" Your name dropping of this stranger's mouth made you look at him now with more concern that friendliness washing over your face.

Your eyes began to wander over his face, the gears in your brain starting to spin as he rang some memory in the back of your head. He was tall, muscular, a defined jaw that dragged the attention to his face, prominent cheekbones that went well with the wildness in his blonde hair and remarked the power behind those dark red eyes... Red eyes.

"Bakugo?"

"It's been way too long since the last time I saw you." He muttered, his eyes inspecting the facial features of his long time friend.

"Uh, y-yeah. Like six years I think. What brings you to my flowershop?"

"Oh, right. I need a bouquet with some pink flowers that kinda looks like a pom-pom." He says, his hands trying to imitate the size and shape of the flower he's thinking about, your mind instantly getting what he means.

"What color do you want for the pom-pom flowers?"

Your steps were still light as he remembered them to be when you dated his friend. "I was thinking of white pom-pom flowers with some red peonies."

"You are one lucky man Bakugo, these right here are the last peonies I will have for the rest of the week." You giggle, taking some white alliums in between your hands, along with some peonies and yellow yarrows to the crafting table.

"What can I say, luck has always been on my side." He says with a smirk. The blond being less agressive than you remembered him to be at 18.

"May I ask who is the lucky person receiving flowers from you?"

"I'm gifting them to my boyfriend, Kirishima, it's our four year anniversary today."

"You finally got with Kiri? That's awesome Katsuki! Congrats!" You happily cheer in him, a soft blush in his ears and nose as he laughs your words aside.

"Thanks Y/N." He mutters, eyes fixated in the bouquet you are working on. "I'm really lucky to have him actually. Pro hero life is such a fucking mess all the time, he's the only one keeping me sane."

"Is great to see you happy and sane, Bakugo. It really is." You smile at him, finishing the bouquet. "It would be five thousand yen, sir." You say, the man handing you the money while taking the flowers.

"Thank you, it's really pretty, Y/N." He smiles, taking small steps towards the door, stopping with his hand in the handle. "Can I ask you somtheing?"

"Sure."

"What happened? Why... Why did you distanced yourself from us? From him?"

Your heart sunk a bit, a train of memories going through your head and heart.

"It... wasn't working, Katsuki, I didn't belonged there in your world, I am not a hero, I was just a person with a stupid flower quirk." You laugh it off, the pain, the heartache that settled in the middle of you, roots of stinging memories encaging your heart. "Distancing was an easy was of cowarding, of getting away from the routine, the emotional danger I would put Shoto in."

"...okay." He nodded his head, accepting how you felt. "I know it isn't easy to break a relationship like the one you had, you are not a coward, you know? It takes a lot of courage to distance yourself from those who you love." Katsuki gifts you a comforting smile, his hand taking out a small card from his pocket and placing it in a shelf near him. "There's my number if you ever need help from a hero, or a friend."

"Thank you, Bakugou, it really means a lot." You smiled at him, looking at his face and the sfot yet still somehow harsh gaze in his eyes, his small playful smile made it seem as if he was a whole new person, and it made you happy to look at him this happy even for a hero, Kiri must be doing some good ass work as his boyfriend. "See you later, have a good day!" You said to the blonde who returned your smile and waved back before the door closed.

With a little smile you sighed, your heart felt torned against the memories this little reunion has brought back. You started picking up the mess the flowers let on the counter top, you took the broom and started swiping the dust from the floor, then you cleaned and put everything in its place, a bit more than half an hour later you were done and ready to go home.

You took your keys and your belonging, tossing a rose that was about to bloom in your bag so you could put it in you nightstand and it would last a bit longer, walking out the door of your shop and when you were just about to take the keys out someone muttered from behind you. "Open up again, and give me all in the cashier, if you don't I will not hesitate to kill you."

You slowly turned around, seeing a man with his blue hand laid to you, ready to shoot something if you didn't obey. "You want money?"

"Of course I want the money, what kind of stupid ass question is that." He snarled, signaling at you to reenter the shop.

"Yeah, yeah right." You nodded, any type of quirk he had it did not seemed to be very friendly.

Rather quick for your shaking hands you managed to get the keys again in the door and open it, walking inside with the robber behind.

"I don't have all day, just do as I say and you will not get hurt." You nodded and he smiled. "Put your things aside, I don't want you calling nobody while I'm here, sweetheart."

Putting your keys and bag aside in the floor you did as they said. "Now, walk your ass to the register and put all the money in this bag and no funny bussiness while doing that." He ordered, tossing a black bag at you.

How the fuck did no one noticed him in the shop? There was still some deam light from the sunset, it was nearly impossible for him to threaten you like that and no one to take it in and do something. But you were not going to let him rob all your money that easy.

While doing what he said in and oddly slow manner, you concentrated your self to using your quirk with that one rose you had put in your bag to make it grow enough for it to reach your phone, feeling how the rose moved slowly and with its stem you tried dialing any number in your phone, the last one saved being Bakugou's.

"Hello?" He ask, your number not saved in his contacts. "Who's this?" Even if he was talking rather loudly it was muffled by your bag, thanking the gods for that.

"Can't you do it faster? At this rate I will be taking the money myself you useless scumbag." The man was getting desperate, he actively didn't wanted to get caught by any heroes today.

"I'm sorry, sir." You answered rather loydly for anyone the rose dialed to hear.

"Y/N?" Bakugou asked, hearing carefully to the voices.

"That's all you got in that register? Really?"

"I mean, you are robbing a flowershop, ain't you?"

"Oh they must be stupid." Bakugou muttered hanging up and calling back to his agency to notify any heores near the shop to help you.

"Shut up okay?! Look at the back or something, I'm not leaving until I got some money."

You nodded, your mouth shutting as you walked to the back of the shop and he followed you just to make sure you didn0t called someone or did something suspicious.

You took longer to open the emergency monsey suplly, and even longer putting the money in the bag as he asked. Each second that passes made you more nervous.

What if the flowers didn't do anything? What if they didn't answer?

The thought of losing it all rolling around your mind over and over again, hands trembling to the point the bills were falling out of your hands onto the floor, spreading around the floor.

"are you stupid?" The man asked, picking you up by the shirt, tossing you around as he took over the money handling, sparks leaving out of his hands as he did.

In a matter of seconds a scandal was heard from outside, a siren far away. "You called smeone?" He asked in a shout, turning towards you. "You dumb bitch." He said, a weak snapping from his fingers shocking you lightly, enough for pain to flow around your body and a yelp escape your lips. "Shut up. Now, you ain't getting out of here." He says, manhandling you until he could tie you to the metallic beam that supported the wall.

You pleaded him to let you go, you couldn't do anything, your quirk was useless, but he didn't even spared a look at you, his quirk setting some of your paperwork on fire, himself running out to the front door.

Panicked, you stare at the papers in fire, rapidly becoming bigger and bigger, spreading to the boxes full of wrapping suplies.

"Shit, shit, shit." You say, trying hard to get out of the tie. Maybe, maybe you could still use your quirk with your flowers. The thought inmediately making you concentrate, fire spreading throught the wooden ceiling to the front of the store, smoke coming bewteen the glass doors.

You were trying, really hard, to make your plants grow, the cracking of the flames making hard to hear the growning crowd outside, smoke engulfing the little back room. You started yelling for help, in hope of anyone hearing you from outside or the stores besides.

"Please, please someone." You pleaded, coughing fits interrupting your yelling, you felt lightheaded, unable to keep on yelling. You tried again to use your quirk, hoping atleast one flower was still intact out there in your shelves. Soon, your mind was everywhere and anywhere, memories of today vagantly flowing through it.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice yell, steps louder, the fire and the smoke making your eyes teary, difficulting even seeing clearly.

Maybe it's bakugo. You though to yourself, trying to find some strength between you to yeel again, only to end up coughing.

"Y/N." Your blurry eyes barely picked on the sillouete, a tall fram ecoming in, coldness spreading from it, a warm hand picking you up and snapping the tie around your wrists, helping you get to your feet.

The next couple of minute were a blur, being dragged out to the street, multiple voices surrounding you, fresh air making your lungs ache, as if you were breathing pure alcohol and your lungs were open wounds.

"You okay?" The familiar voice asks again, your eyes finally clearing and being met by a mismatched pair.

"Shoto?" You ask, hand extending you touch his face, in case your dazed mind was playing tricks on you.

"It's me, y7n, you're okay, it's okay." His hand gentle on your shoulder to help you get seated. "The ambulance is on their way, don't force yourself."

"My shop..." You say, staring at it engulfed in flames, windows broken, not a signal of anything intact in it. A deep sadness fulfilling you, the fear, the anger, the dissapointment all filing you and exploiting, fat tears flooding from your face.

"Does something hurt?" Shoto asks, worry deep in his features at the sight of you crying.

You can't find it in you to answer, hand clapped against your mouth to muffle your ugly cries.

You don't know how much time passes, but it feel eternal as the paramedics are checking you, giving you oxygen and checking your light burns.

"Where's Y/N?" You hear Kirishima's voice from the distance, him and Bakugo both making their way to the scene, a relieved look on their faces as they spot you seated with the paramedics. "Are you okay? Where did the fire came from?" They ask, the bouquet you made earlier in Kirishima's hands, making you smile lightly.

"I'm fine, unemployed, but fine." You mutter. "Now get back to your date, it's okay." You signal to the, both sharing a look before sighing.

"Why do you have a phone if you won't answer?" Bakugo asked, the angry tone he put to masquerade his worry made you chuckle, reminding you of your high school years.

You knew yu didn't have to asnwer, and seeing Bakugo overreact and Kirishima calm him infront of you made you chuckle louder.

Maybe you do have missed them.

Once the paramedics cleared you out and treated your burns you went over to Shoto who just finished talking to the police.

"Shoto" You called, he barely heard you as he turned around t oface you, an awkard smile on his face now that eberything was cleared.

"Hi..." He mutters, nodding to you.

"Thank you." You say, finally looking at him rightly. Paying attention to his matured features, jaw more prominent, frame wider and he seemed taller, hair a bit mure ruffled and longer than you remembered, eyes looking at you as softly as your memories recalled. "Seriously."

"It's my job, it's nothing." h¿He dismisses, nodding again. "I'm... uh, relieved that you're fine."

"Thanks." You nod, fiddling with your hands. "I'll go."

"Can we talk for a second? I mean, a few more." He says abruptly, eyes never leaving yours. After you nodded and stayed, he kept on talking. "I always had this question ever since you broke up with me and... seeing you now may be the only chance i'll have to clear it out." He started, looking deeply into your face in search of anything that told him you didn0t wanted to hear him out.

"The thing i want to say is... why did you do it? I- I thought we were doing great and I never stood where I went wrong."

"You never went wrong. I did." You started, unable to look him in the eye as you were spitting out what happened. "I-I was scared, everything was so wrong even though it felt so right. You were always in the spotlight, always being chased after, and after eberything that happened I got scared i was weakening you." You said, not looking at the way Shoto's features formed a face of sadness. "I never wanted to intefere with your job, I loved you too much to keep you from moving forward. I... just felt like a weight, you were much safer without me around."

"Why didn't you talk it with me?" He muttered, searching for your eyes. "You did worse by leaving than staying."

"That aint true. We dont know that, we dont know what the villains could do to us if we were kept together." You thought you would feel sad, but surpisingly, you were relieved as everything was finally spilled.

"what happened with what i felt?" His words slow, careful. "You mever stopped to wonder if I wanted you around even through out all the risks? It was selfish I know, but you were keeping me sane, keeping me alive."

"I'm sorry, I know it was wrong, but look at you now." You signal to the enitre of him. "You are an amizing hero, you fulfilled your dreams, you didnt needed me for that."

"But i wanted you there." He sighed. "I couldnt help but wonder, all these years, what if you talked to me, what if you were still with me?"

"I was a weakness, Shoto."

"No, you were my strength, you kept me grounded." He snaps, tears forming n his eyes. "After I lost you I thought I lost everything, I didnt have you to protect, to keep on foghting."

"But you kept pushing forward didnt you"

"Ueh but... That was because I knew you were stillout there, I found strength in the thought of protecting everything in case you were there."

"Shoto..."

"Its been six years, y/n. What if..." He stops midway, taking berak to gather some air. "What if we try again, as adults?"

"Its not that easy."

"My life will never be easy, we know that, but, maybe, we can try." His hands are ithcing to hold yours now. "If you seriously are over me, if you really dont want me near, say it now; but i know, i stilll want you."

"Sho..."

"This time, I want an answer.¿, I want to hear you out, I want you to say to me what you think."

His words dug deep into your heart, pain coming out of wound you didnt knew you had, but the thought of him made you flutter a bit, something you thought as dead coming back to life inside of you again.

Was it now the right time?

"What if we dont work out?" You scarely ask.

"Then, I'll let you go, but I'll let you go knowing that I fought for you." You didnt know what happened to him, but hearing him talk like that ignited a little flame in your heart.

"Let's try then. But we have to get to know each other again."

"Sure."

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #mha x reafer #bnha fluff #shoto todoroki fluff #todoroki fluff #todoroki #todoroki headcanons #this fr is the worst one up to date

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deluzional-simping-time · 12 days

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✩₊˚.⋆ SUPER SELF-INDUGENT DAVID X READER FANFIC CAUSE I NEED HIM⋆⁺₊✩

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, as you and David were rushing the campers back to bed, you found yourself stealing glances at David, the ever-optimistic camp counselor, who was stuck on asking you to take a stroll thru the woods after they all went to bed.

You had developed a crush on David since you arrived at Camp Campbell. His unwavering enthusiasm and infectious positivity were irresistible. naturally you had to say yes to this request to "take a small stroll around the forest!" as David put it.. Little did you know, David felt the same about you. He admired your intelligence, your wit, and the way you always lent a helping hand to take care of the campers.

Tonight, however, was different. As you got to the spot he wanted to show you, a small ledge with a campfire he lit a few minutes earlier you sat beside David, listening to his tales with rapt attention, the air between you seemed charged with an unspoken tension. His knee brushed against yours, sending shivers down your spine. You dared a glance at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you, his eyes filled with an intensity you couldn't ignore.

Lost in the moment, you leaned closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. David mirrored your actions, closing the distance between you until your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was electric, sending waves of warmth coursing through your body.

But just as the kiss deepened, getting all sloppy and such, a voice shattered the intimacy. "What the fuck!?" Max exclaimed, standing behind, a mix of shock and amusement written on his face as he snapped a photo with a disposable camera of such.

You and David pulled apart, startled by the interruption. "Max!" you hissed, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Whoa, didn't mean to interrupt your little make-out session, jeez." Max smirked, crossing his arms. "And I just when thought Nikki was the one with no self-control! Look at you two!! you were really going at it!! Hah!!"

David's face turned a bright shade of red, matching the flames of the campfire. "M-Max, it's not what it looks like, Wait!" he stammered, trying to regain his composure.

"Sure, sure," Max said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, lovebirds. But I'm definitely telling Gwen about this."

Panic flooded your senses as Max turned rushed off, leaving you and David alone once again. "What are we going to do?" you whispered, nerves tingling with anxiety.

David took a deep breath "Shoot."

You respond. "dammit. we are so cooked." you said, relaxing scooting closer to David

As the night wore on, a sense of unease lingered in the air, overshadowing the usual camaraderie of the campfire gatherings. You and David exchanged nervous glances, both dreading the inevitable confrontation with Gwen.

Finally, as the last embers of the fire began to fade, Gwen approached, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Alright, spill it," she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "What's going on with you two?"

Your heart raced as you and David exchanged a silent glance, silently agreeing to face the music together. "Gwen, it's not what it looks like," David began, his voice wavering slightly.

But before he could continue, Max interjected with his trademark sarcasm. "Oh, it's exactly what it looks like," he declared, waving what you could only assume to be the photo of you and David, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Lovebirds over here decided to have a little make-out session by the campfire."

Gwen's eyebrows shot up in surprise, her gaze flickering between you and David. "whoa, whoa, what!?" she asked, her tone more teasing-like now, tinged with a hint of amusement.

You nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. "Yes, but it's not like we were doing anything wrong... technically.." you explained, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gwen sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Look, I get it. Camp can be a pretty intense place, and relationships happen," she said, her expression softening. "But just be careful, okay? We don't need any unnecessary drama around here."

You and David exchanged a relieved smile, grateful for Gwen not going off the rails. "Thanks, Gwen. We'll be more discreet from now on," David promised, winking at her squeezing your hand reassuringly.

With that, the tension that had been hanging over the campfire gathering seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of acceptance and understanding. As the night drew to a close, you and David found yourselves wrapped in each other's arms once again, the warmth of the campfire mirroring the warmth in your hearts.

And as you watched the stars twinkle overhead, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united in your love for each other.

#YESSSS #I DID IT #I WROTE A FAN FIC #YIPPIEIEEU #muffet is simping aginn #x david #camp camp #camp camp david #david camp camp #camp camp x reader #camp camp max #cc nikki #cc david #yea

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mendessi · 1 year

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speak now | part three

pairing: fem!reader x joel miller

summary: joel saves you from the biggest mistake of your life

word count: 2.3K

warnings: smut probably, pre-outbreak, mentions of marriage, based off speak now by taylor swift, mentions of domestic abuse, joel is 26 & reader is 21, mentions of cheating, kind of slow burn, brief mention of death, angst, will add more as i think of them, not proofread

this chapter: unprotected piv (this is the 90s, please wrap it up irl), fingering (f receiving), v soft v tender sex, soft joel, biting, praise, "good girl"

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

minors dni

Joel had been staying at your place for the past few days because your fiance had gone out of town on his bachelor trip. You liked the idea of having your own bachelorette trip but one problem stood: you had no friends and really no family either. The last week of freedom would be spent doing nothing in El Paso. Luckily there was no need for you to call out anyways because you had a minimal amount of shifts leading up to your wedding day and then were off two weeks after for your honeymoon.

Over the last week you had managed to see your fiance a minimal amount of times due to his busy work schedule before his trip and your pretending to work at the bar while you spent time with Joel.

The two of you were sat on the hood of his truck watching as the sun went down behind the lake, leaving a beautiful orange pink and purple sky behind.

"I don't want you to leave." You said to Joel pulling your knees to your chest as you bit into the peanut butter and jelly you packed.

"I don't want you to get married." Joel replied. His tone was cold out of nowhere and you didn't know where the sudden hostility came from.

"I'm not getting married." You said to him after a brief silence. "I'm calling off the engagement once he gets back and he might just kill me for it but that might be better than a lifetime with him."

"You are?" He asked, glancing at over at you. Maybe this was the moment he should ask you if you'd move to Austin with him. He loved you after all and if you weren't going to marry your idiot fiance, then maybe you'd marry him.

"I have you to thank." You rested your cheek against your knee as you looked over at him. God, he looked simply mesmerizing with the way the sky shed its light on his skin. "I don't know what's gonna happen after but... you made me realize I deserve more."

"You deserve to be taken care of. And I don't have a lot of money by any means, but I'd take care of you. Always." Joel cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb against your skin.

You believed every word he said, but you also believed that when he left on Saturday it would be the last time you ever saw him. You'd call off the engagement and still be stuck in El Paso while he went home to his daughter in Austin. In the meantime while he was here, you'd soak up in his company and enjoy it while it could.

It broke your heart to think that later in life you'd think back to this short time in your life and he'd just be remembered as the summer love that saved you before you parted ways. He was such a small part but you'd remember him forever. He'd go on and find someone to be a mother to Sarah, maybe even get married himself and maybe you'd do the same, but nobody would compare to what Joel showed you and taught you about yourself in the three weeks you've known him.

The tales of your grandparents and all their friends getting married after only knowing each other for a few days used to seem so bizzare to you, "it was a different time" they'd say, but how quickly you had fallen in love with Joel had proven their stories true that when you know, you know. With Joel, you knew.

The two of you were in the bed of the truck now that the sun had completely set and staring up at the stars. This little routine that you two had created reminded you of one that you had seen in a movie. Two kids meeting on their family vacations and falling into a summer romance, just for them to part ways at the end. Every second with Joel Miller felt like that of a movie.

"Do you see those five stars right there?" Joel asked and you hummed in response. "And then those two kind of next to it? That's The Big Dipper."

You sat up almost instantly, looking down at him, tears brimming your eyes. "What?"

"And if you look a little bit further down, you'll see The Little Dipper." He pulled you back down into his side, a smile on his face as he pointed towards the sky. "Over that way is Andromeda."

"Where did you learn that?" You stared into the sky, piecing together the constellations that he pointed out. The first time the two of lay in the bed of this truck, you couldn't even point out the North Star.

"I looked in a book, like you said." He rubbed your arm but you sat up enough to rest your body weight on your elbow to look down at him.

"That's really sweet, Joel." You didn't bother hiding the smile as you rested your hand against his cheek. Nobody had ever done something so thoughtful for you, let alone study the constellations so he could show you like your dad used to. Your heart was fluttering nonstop as a million emotions swarmed you at once.

"Do I get brownie points?" He asked, cheekily. Oh, Joel, you get more than brownie points.

"I love you." You blurted it out. You didn't mean to, but you didn't care that the words had accidentally slipped out of your mouth. Joel's heart literally skipped a beat when he heard the words leave your lips and he had never felt happier in any moment in his life other than when Sarah was born of course.

"I love you too, baby." Joel smiled and a weight lifted off your chest at the returned sentiment and you leaned down to kiss him, smiling against his lips.

The kiss deepened almost instantly as his hands trailed up and down your side, threatening to go further but he wouldn't unless you asked. He never would push any boundaries unless you asked.

You wrapped your hand around his as he kissed a line from your chin up your jawline, biting at your skin playfully. You moved his hand slowly down from your torso to the hem of your bathing suit bottoms. His breath nearly caught in his throat as he continued kissing you, sliding his hand underneath the fabric. This was one thing he was good at and he hoped that he'd get the chance to pleasure you just once before he left.

"It's okay." You whispered against his lips. You spread your legs for him and he slid his finger between your lips, gathering your slick to your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud slowly. Your lips parted, breathing heavily into his mouth, your hand still wrapped around his wrist.

His lips trailed kisses along the exposed skin of your neck, biting gently every once in a while and eventually choosing a spot to suck on tenderly, leaving a hickey in its wake. He slid two fingers into your heat, slowly thrusting them to give you time to adjust. Your grip on his wrist tightened and your hips bucked forward causing his fingers to move deeper, emitting a moan from your lips.

"Fuck," You said as your back arched off the truck bed.

"Is that good, baby?" He asked you, biting at your collarbone. He smirked against your skin as your only response was another soft moan, so he began thrusting his fingers faster, using his thumb to continue rubbing your clit.

"Fuck," You repeated, this time forced through a moan, letting go of his wrist to tangle your fingers into his hair. "Fuck."

"You're so fuckin pretty under me, baby." Joel's cock pressed against your thigh as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, and nothing mattered more to him in the moment. You looked fucking gorgeous, pressed against him as his fingers stretched you out, the most beautiful sounding moans all for him, all because of him.

"Joel, please. Please, I'm close." Your legs were slightly shaking as he picked up the pace of his skillful fingers, in and out of you making sure to simultaneously stimulating your clit. It was too much, your orgasm coming over you like you had never experienced.

"Good, baby. Good job. Look at you, so fuckin beautiful." He said into your ear as you shook under his touch, moaning his name over and over, cumming around his thick fingers. He pulled his fingers from your pussy and brought them to his lips, sucking your cum off of them.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, the taste of yourself very much present but there was something so fucking sexy about it. "I want you, Joel. All of you. Please."

"Whatever you want, sweet girl. Of course." He nodded and sat up on his knees, tugging your bathing suit bottoms down. He was tempted to remove his shirt from your body, but the idea of fucking you while wearing it made his cock twitch. You looked stunning laying there, spread open for him. He pulled his own bathing suit bottoms down, revealing his cock that you were almost sure wouldn't fit inside you.

"Promise me." You said as he leaned back down, lining himself up with your entrance. "You love me."

"On my life." He said, looking into your eyes. "I swear it. I love you."

He grabbed your hand and took your ring finger into his mouth by surprise. It took a moment for you to realize that he was pulling your engagement ring off your finger with his teeth. He took it from in between his teeth and set it somewhere beside you.

"I'll buy you a better one." He said to you.

You rested your hands on his cheeks as he slowly slid into you, a whimper leaving your lips as you pulled his face towards yours to kiss him. He paused for a moment once he was fully inside to let you adjust.

"I'm good. Move." You reassured him.

He nodded, burying his head in your neck as he whispered sweet nothings, thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. "I love you." "I'll take care of you." "So fucking beautiful." "Mine."

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands traveling to his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as you moaned loudly into the darkness.

"Fuck, Joel." He loved nothing more than hearing his name followed by whimpers and moans, surrounded by the sound of his hips hitting yours.

"Fucking angel." He said before he kissed you, moaning against your lips his thrusts getting faster and faster. Despite it all, it somehow remained tender and full of love, this wasn't just sex to either of you.

He rolled his hips into yours, your legs starting to shake again as he hit your g-spot with each thrust, you clenching around him each time. "You feel so fuckin good."

"Where do you want me?" He asked through heavy breaths and you guessed that meant he was close.

"Inside, I don't care. Wherever you want." You replied, gripping onto his arms. "I'm gonna- fuck." Tears brimmed your eyes at the sheer pleasure radiating through your body as he bit into your shoulder again. Your eyes squeezed shut from the pain of the bite but you loved it. His thrusts staggered and he shuddered, moaning into your ear as his cum filled inside you. You loved the feeling of it. You never let your fiance do it, but you'd lt Joel do anything to you.

"I'm almost there." You said under your breath. "Harder. Please. Please."

Joel's thrusts staggered but he thrusted into you harder just as you asked, deeper as you asked and faster just like you asked. He loved it, the sound of your whimpers echoing around the lake. The idea of him being the one to have you shaking like this, whimpering like this under him, brought him more pleasure than anything. Your bodies so close together, so intimate.

The pleasure clouded your senses and he could tell by your breathing and scattered moans told him you were seconds for coming so he got in two or three more good thrusts and you fell apart under him. You barely could hold your legs open under him with how bad they were shaking.

"Cum for me, baby." He said into your ear and you did as told, coming around his cock as his thrusts slowed. "Good girl. Good fuckin girl." He said through a shaky breath.

Your legs continued shaking as he pulled out and lay next to you, pulling you into his chest. He rested his hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently, giving you a teasing smile as your legs finally stilled.

"Are we insane?" You asked as he pulled you into his chest, tugging the blanket tighter around you. "I'm still technically in a relationship."

"Come with me to Austin." Joel said.

"So the answer is yes, we are insane." Your laugh filled the air and even though he loved the sound, he was being serious.

"I'm being serious. Come with me to Austin. Run away with me."

"Joel, that's not funny." You sat up and looked down at him resting your hand on his chest.

"I'm not bein funny. Come with me. Please. I don't want to leave you here. I want to be with you." Joel said and he sat up to match your level so that maybe you'd understand how truthful he was being in his request.

How crazy would it be for you to uproot your entire life and move to a different city with a man you just met to live with him and his daughter. Your dad wanted you to be taken care of when he passed away and Joel was offering that. Joel would take care of you emotionally. He didn't have all the money in the world but that didn't matter. You'd be a team, you would both bring in income and take care of each other. Joel would take care of you, actually take care of you in a way that your current fiance would never take care of you. Joel wouldn't even think about laying a finger on you, something that occurred far too often in your current relationship. But it didn't matter. Once he got back into town you were calling off the engagement and you were going to run away to Austin with Joel.

"Okay."

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let me be clear i hate writing smut its why i dont do it that often bc quite frankly its just not my strongsuit lmao.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #joel miller x fem!reader

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