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cupid-styles · 8 months

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lace (grumpy!h)

in which Harry is grumpy and mean to Y/N, who's just shy and trying to get through the day, and they're both teaching assistants for the same class.

word count: 4.9k

content warnings/author's notes: h being a dick, grumpy h x soft girl trope <;3 part two will be posted a week from today!

masterlist | talk to me |

part two | part three

Y/N thinks Harry hates her.

Which is kind of silly, really, because they didn't even know each other prior to being assigned as teaching assistants to the same literary seminar. They roam in two completely different circles and never would have crossed paths if not for the fact that Y/N is an English major and Harry got an A- in the course last year.

Y/N's initially really excited that Professor Donnolly asked her to be one of her TAs. At their first one-on-one meeting together, she lets Y/N know that there will be one other TA this semester since it's such a large class, but this isn't concerning to her. She's quiet and introverted and an expert at keeping to herself, and she's far more focused on helping students in the seminar and building up her resume.

So, she's generally pretty careless about the whole thing until Harry strolls in on the first day. He's dressed in all black, a tattered band tee decorating his torso, inky tattoos covering his arms, and a coffee in hand. He doesn't even have a backpack with him, which Y/N finds weird — she'd spent the previous night printing out worksheets and contact information for her batch of students, all of which were neatly filed in a folder in her bag.

He plops down next to her at the front of the lecture hall and pulls his phone out. Y/N isn't typically very nosey, but she can't help that as she sits there, anxiously awaiting for the class to begin, she notices just about 20 missed texts lighting up his screen. She doesn't think she receives that many messages in a week.

Because she's shy, she's hesitant to introduce herself, but maybe he doesn't realize there's another TA for the course despite sitting down right next to her. So she clears her throat and nervously picks at a loose string on her knitted cardigan before mustering up the courage to say something.

"Hi," her voice is scratchy since it's the first time she's said anything all morning, aside from ordering an iced vanilla latte at the on-campus cafe, "I'm Y/N. Are you the other TA for this semester?"

Harry peers up at her with a glaring look. His eyes are so piercing that it almost makes her jump under his gaze.

"Yeah, I'm Harry. Please don't continue this conversation, I'm hungover."

Y/N's jaw snaps closed at his bluntness, a warm blush encasing her entire body. She's so embarrassed that it physically hurts — and it's enough of a reason to stay quiet every time she sees Harry, twice a week at the seminar.

Weeks go by and nothing changes, the pair seemingly fine with their lack of verbal communication. Every now and then they'll have to physically interact, whether it be passing papers or the one time Harry held the door open for Y/N when they were leaving the lecture hall. She's surprised he didn't purposely slam it in her face.

She'll admit, it bothers her just a tad, but it's just another facet of her personality — an incessant need to people-please — that she scribbles down in her planner as a reminder to bring up in therapy sometime soon.

On Tuesday after class has ended, she's packing up her things, her back to Harry when Professor Donnolly strolls over to their table, the sound of her pumps clacking against the tiled floor.

"Harry, Y/N, are you two available right now?"

In any other instance, Y/N would find a reason to be busy — her social battery is drained from today's workshopping class, where she went around discussing thesis statements with her assigned group of students — but this TA gig matters to her, especially after she did some online digging on Professor Donnolly and found out she has connections at multiple publishing firms Y/N could only dream of working at. So she sucks it up and bears herself for whatever her presence is needed for, even if it means being around Harry.

"I'm free," Y/N replies and Harry grunts out some form of affirmative answer.

"Great!" Donnolly claps her hands together, "So listen, I'm seriously behind in going through these outlines and they need to be graded and handed back by Thursday's class. Do you guys think you could make a dent in the stack this afternoon? You could use my office while I teach this next lecture."

The thought of sitting in an office alone with Harry sounds absolutely humiliating, but to her surprise, he's the one that agrees to it before she even has a chance to run it through her brain. She zones out while Donnolly hands Harry the keys to her office, providing instructions on where the papers and rubric are, before he's turning on his heel and heading in the direction of the English department. Y/N scrambles and throws her bag over her shoulder, her chunky oxfords squeaking as she rushes to catch up to Harry.

"You don't have to join me," Harry grumbles once she finally reaches him so they're walking side by side, "I'm perfectly capable of grading these outlines by myself."

With a wrinkle in her brow, Y/N hugs her backpack strap closer to her body. "She asked both of us, so I'm helping."

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to know if you duck out to do whatever shit you do in your free time. Volunteering with the elderly or summat."

He mutters the last part under his breath, but Y/N hears it. Pain quickly zips through her stomach but it's gone just as quickly as it entered.

"I don't volunteer with the elderly," is her final comeback, albeit mumbled as they reach Donnolly's office. Harry stuffs the key in the lock and twists the door open before flicking the lights on and zeroing in on the stack of papers on her desk.

"Right, well, you act like a fuckin' church mouse, so apologies if my assumptions are a bit off."

Y/N huffs and drops her bag on the cushiony couch. She doesn't even know Harry, so what gives him the right to talk about her like that?

"You're the one that told me not to talk to you on the first day," Y/N says pointedly, walking over to where he stands with the papers in hand, "I'm only doing what you asked of me. And don't call me a church mouse, you don't know anything about me."

She snatches the folder from him and halves the papers as he cackles from above. She can't help but notice that he towers over her, and it makes her swallow nervously.

"You took that seriously? Jesus, you need to lighten up. Haven't you ever been hungover before?"

Y/N rolls her eyes as she sits down on the couch, folding her legs so her skirt doesn't ride up. She digs in her bag for her favorite red pen, fetching it from her pouch of writing utensils.

"Oh wait, you probably haven't. Because you're a church mouse."

Y/N grits her teeth. She's never had someone care to provoke her this much and it's so annoying. Harry is so annoying!

"Can you please stop?" She says softly, removing the cap from her pen. "You don't have to be mean to me just because you don't like me."

"How do you know whether I like you or not?" Harry scoffs as he sits down at Donnolly's desk, "I don't even know you."

Y/N has to admit, that one hurts. So instead of responding, she swallows the lump forming in her throat and starts to read over Amanda Mai's outline.

Harry doesn't bother her again that day. In fact, he doesn't even say goodbye when he's done.

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The following weeks go similarly.

Donnolly stops them both after class with some ask of grading papers or outlines or otherwise, claiming that she thinks they work well together, which Y/N thinks is some cruel joke from the universe. Every time her and Harry walk the familiar route to her office in silence, she wonders what she did wrong in her life and what bullshit karma she's on the receiving end of.

At a certain point, she wonders if someone has made a voodoo doll of her just to torture her, especially when she thinks Harry's finally skipping one of their grading sessions together, only to find his tongue down some sorority girl's throat. He nearly pushes the girl off of him when he notices Y/N's unintentionally interrupted their makeout session. She holds back a snicker when she hears the girl ask what his problem is as she unlocks the door.

"Gotta go," Harry tells the girl lowly, brushing past her to follow Y/N into the office. The girl garbles out a surprised "what?" just as Harry's shutting the door and plopping down at Donnolly's desk chair.

It's quiet for a moment and Y/N debates saying anything, knowing that however she chooses to approach the situation — whether she ignore the confused, pissed off girl outside or comment on Harry's apparent distaste for her — he'll dole out some rude response.

She rolls her lips into her mouth as she passes him his half of the papers, eventually settling on, "You probably shouldn't bring your girlfriend to your job. It's unprofessional, I think, and you both could've gotten in trouble."

Harry chuckles dryly and Y/N immediately regrets her decision.

"Mind your business, little mouse." he mutters, but not before he utters something out under his breath. "She's not my girlfriend either."

Y/N nods slowly and lowers her eyes to the assignment in front of her. Today, they're working on editing the first drafts of the class' papers, which is guaranteed to take hours. She grimaces as she reads over Ty Baker's introduction, realizing that she has a hefty load of grading ahead of her.

When she pulls out her pencil case from her bag, she hears Harry scoff from across the room. Mentally, she hopes it's due to the poor writing he's reading, but she knows she's wrong.

"Do you always wear shit like that?" he sneers. A hot flush instantly pulverizes her body, making her feel embarrassed and self-conscious within seconds.

She doesn't reply, but of course — of course — Harry continues.

"I mean, seriously, how old are you? 23? 24? And you come to campus in little skirts and cardigans and those stupid Doc Martens. Are you trying to look half your age?"

Y/N swallows harshly, attempting to focus on the words on the page. If she ignores him, he'll stop eventually. Harry thrives on her attempting to fight back.

"Are you even gonna defend yourself?" Harry spits, leaning back in Donnolly's chair, "Kind of pathetic, really—"

Y/N's head snaps up, tears blurring her vision. She sniffles and looks at him, the embarrassment now overwhelming when his face falls, realizing that he's made her cry.

"Please stop," Y/N says in a watery voice, "You're just being mean."

Harry stares her down with low eyes, his raspberry lips slighted parted. She can feel his intimidating gaze even as she tries to redirect her attention back to Ty's draft, attempting to blink the salty tears away. She thinks she's made it through until a shudder racks through her body, a sad and involuntary quiver sounding from her chest.

The room is dead silent so she knows Harry hears it, and she wants nothing more than to dig a hole in the ground and bury herself alive. It would be better than having to face the fact that Harry made her cry over rude comments.

She braces herself for another tongue lashing but instead, he stands from the desk, grabs his things, and rushes out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting on the couch by herself with tear-stained cheeks.

She wonders if she's ever been this embarrassed before in her life.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N spends the weekend wondering if she can ask Donnolly to transfer her to another section.

As she cuddles with her kitten, Ginger, on the couch, binge-watching episode upon episode of Love Island, she contemplates how to approach the situation.

"Ging, what do you think I should do?" she murmurs to the orange cat perched on her thighs, "He's kind of awful and he's so mean to me, I don't understand why. I never see him act that way with anyone else. I don't think I did anything to him."

Ginger meows.

"Okay, meow again if you think I should try to move to Donnolly's other seminar."

The kitten jumps off her legs and traipses to her food bowl. Y/N lets out a sigh and falls to the side face-first into a mess of throw pillows.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

On Tuesday morning, Harry is tired.

He stayed up way too late last night and Jenna wouldn't stop blowing up his phone, wondering where he was over the weekend and asking if he wanted to come over and hookup.

(It was a Monday for Christ's sake, and she clearly couldn't take a hint — if he hadn't replied to her last five texts, why on earth would he want to go and get his dick wet now?

He realizes that he's done worse, so he takes it back.)

He typically spends his weekends ambling through parties and bars with his mates. Jenna is just one of his current and most reliable hookups, and he clearly made a mistake by tonguing her in public last week while he waited for Y/N to unlock Donnolly's office. It had been a spur of the moment rendezvous — Jenna happened to be walking through the English department just as Harry was, and she surged towards him for a kiss that quickly grew to a heated makeout once she stuck her tongue in his mouth.

Harry was weak and rarely one to turn down a midday hookup, but the second he heard Y/N's clunky footsteps (those Doc Marten oxfords she wore were a dead giveaway), he tore apart from Jenna.

Because of their public snog session, he assumes that she thinks their arrangement is something more. And she couldn't be more wrong, because ever since Thursday afternoon, all he's been able to think about is Y/N.

He doesn't even know why. She's quiet and shy and the complete opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to. She rarely even fights back when he tries to rile her up, which he thought would be fun, but then he went and made her fucking cry last week and now he feels like the worst person to walk the planet.

In hindsight, Harry knows he was a fucking dick to her on Thursday. He doesn't know what it is about her, but it annoys him that she's so shy. She's smart and pretty and sweet and he doesn't know why she doesn't see that, instead opting for quietness and soft smiles and a constant hope that no one will notice her.

Harry very much notices her, and it makes him grumpy.

So on Tuesday morning, he decides that he's going to attempt to make it up to her. He can't promise that he won't be rude, but when he makes his daily stop at his favorite coffee shop, he orders his own drink and hers, an iced vanilla oat milk latte. He hopes that she also didn't grab one before class but figures that at the very least, the effort would be appreciated. Maybe.

And Harry is actually kind of... nervous as he strolls into the lecture hall. He usually arrives a minute or two before class starts but today he's a whopping 10 minutes early, giving tight smiles to the students that wave hello to him. He's surprised that Y/N isn't there yet though he's never been this early before — maybe she likes to get there with five minutes to spare, even if she strikes him as an obsessively early type of person.

His eyebrows furrow when Donnolly enters the room and greets Harry with a grin, setting her things up at the podium. Clearing his throat, he tries to seem as normal as possible as he glances at the clock at the back of the hall.

"Where's Y/N?" he asks, turning to look at Donnolly.

The professor glances down at Harry, who's sitting at the TA table, his leg bouncing. He's clutching his own coffee cup and Y/N's is next to him, but now the plastic cup is beading with condensation and sweating onto the wooden desk.

"She's not feeling well today," Donnolly replies casually, her eyes peering over to the extra coffee on the table, "She said she'll try to make it to grading this afternoon, but I told her that wouldn't be necessary if she needs time to rest."

Harry coughs awkwardly and nods, ignoring the pang of guilt zip through his heart.

Donnolly purses her lips before clearing her throat and typing something on her laptop. "You have her number, right? I haven't had a chance to check on her but I want to make sure she's doing alright. Would you mind?"

"I don't have her number, no."

She hums and nods, "I just emailed it to you."

Harry goes to reply, but Donnolly is already clapping her hands to announce the start of class.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Harry can't stop staring at Y/N's phone number.

At this point, he knows he's being a total and utter weirdo. Donnolly gave it to him to check on her, but instead of texting her, he opens her email and stares at the 10 digits until they blur together. He types it in his phone twice but can't decide on what to say. He knows it doesn't have to be a big deal — he's never been this stressed over having a girl's number before! And besides the fact, this isn't even that kind of deal, it's Y/N.

Silly, stupid Y/N, who he can't stop thinking about, who he feels bad for being mean to, who he wishes came to class today so he could give her her dumb iced latte but instead had to throw out the melted, watered down beverage.

He doesn't text her, but he does the next logical step of looking her up on social media. Of course, her Instagram profile is on private and she hasn't posted on Twitter in five years. He tries to find any public trace of her online only to come up empty, so he groans and leans back against his pillows, pulls up the empty text thread and pastes her number in.

It takes him four rewrites and 10 minutes of agony to finally land on: Hey. Donnolly asked me to see how you're doing.

Harry wants to throw his phone across the room but he resists, instead clutching it tightly in his palm. It buzzes a moment later and he nearly yelps to see her number on his screen.

who is this?

"Oh my god," he grunts, slapping a hand over his forehead, "I didn't even say it was me!"

Grumbling, he quickly types back. It's Harry. She said you weren't feeling well.

He keeps the text thread up and watches as the speech bubble appears, then fades away. It happens three times before she replies.

yea I have a migraine. im fine thanks

Harry swallows. His mouth dries as he tries to figure out how he can continue the conversation but she's really not giving him anything to go off of. He can't say he blames her, though.

Do you need anything?

Again, the three dots pop up on his screen and disappear twice more.

no thank you

This time, he replies quickly: Do you think you'll be able to attend class on Thursday? If not, I can bring you the papers you have left to grade so you don't fall too behind.

He figures that's a decent response — maybe one that warrants more than three words, and he even wonders if it portrays his attempt to patch things up.

if i need anything im capable of doing it myself.

Harry sighs and locks his phone. He definitely deserves this.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

On Thursday, Y/N doesn't show up to class again.

And at this point, Harry is ready to call her up or text her, or even email her to demand some answers. He's not sure what answers he's looking for — she said she had a migraine on Tuesday, but how could she still be dealing with it two days later? — but he's annoyed that she's not here.

When class is over, Donnolly wordlessly hands her keys to him. He flashes her a tight small, dumps the rest of his coffee, and walks the short distance to her office, stewing in his anger. Had he really been that mean? He didn't think so; he knew he was a dick and yeah, he still regrets making her cry, but was it worth missing two days of class? She'll be so behind in grading, what's the point in even being a teaching assistant if she's just going to—

Harry's face wrinkles in confusion when he approaches the small office space, noticing that the lamp is already on, radiating a warm glow from the corner. The door is unlocked, too, which Donnolly never does.

"Go fuckin' figure," he mutters to himself, prepared to have to deal with some sort of English department break-in, when he pushes the door open to find Y/N inside, sprawled out across the blue velvet sofa with her pink cardigan bunched up over her eyes.

He's immediately perplexed, and he wouldn't know it's Y/N if not for those clunky Doc Martens on her feet. Instead of her usual Levi jeans or rotation of mini skirts, she's wearing leggings and a baggy t-shirt over her form, her hair tied up and flopped over her head.

He can't tell if she's awake or not, so he very quietly shuts the door behind him. Her lips part and she takes a deep breath, her hand flying up to her temples with a wince.

"Y/N?" Harry whispers, dropping Donnolly's keys on her desk.

"Leave me alone," she croaks, "Everything hurts, just shut up. Please."

Harry smiles gently as she tacks on a please at the end of her request. Something about her delicate state is very sweet, but it's quickly replaced with concern as he kneels down next to the couch.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, fingers itching to move the cardigan covering her face.

"No."

"What's the matter?"

"Migraine."

"Why are you on campus, then?"

"Stop asking me questions."

He does, allowing her to ruminate in the silence as he decides what he should do. It's but a minute or two more before she slowly moves the cardigan down her face, revealing tired, squinty eyes that stare up at Harry.

"I've missed two days of classes and I didn't want to miss anymore. I came to campus this morning and I couldn't even make it through my first one. Donnolly said I could rest in here."

"All from a migraine?" Harry presses, a bemused expression on his face.

"Yes. I get them from stress."

It's the most that she's spoken to him in days and he chalks it up to her disoriented nature. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are bleary, fatigue and pain apparent in her every move.

"Do you want to go home?" he asks. He doesn't know much about migraines, but his sister gets them sometimes and she always complains about his voice being too loud. He tries to keep his questions at minimal volume, teetering just above a whisper.

"Yeah, but I don't have a car and it's too bright outside to walk."

"I can drive you," Harry murmurs without a second thought, "My car is in the building lot."

"Isn't that a faculty lot?"

He rolls his eyes, "Are you really gonna harp on that right now?"

Y/N doesn't reply to this, instead trying her best to sit up, only to be met with a painful recoil. Harry jumps to keep her stable, his hands stretching out to steady her arms and keep her upright.

"Sorry," he quickly mutters, "Don't want you to pass out on me."

She nods, and that's how Harry knows she must be really sick. He scrambles up and digs his car keys out of his pocket, then grabs his sunglasses dangling from his tee-shirt.

"Here, you can wear these."

Y/N doesn't reply and his shoulders droop in concern, carefully reaching forward to place them over her eyes.

"Don't tell me if I look dumb." she mumbles, making him laugh.

"You don't. You look quite sweet, actually."

He ignores the compliment that seems to fall from his lips effortlessly, instead choosing to focus on getting her home safely. Harry grabs her backpack and swings it over his shoulder, "Do you need help getting up?"

With squinted eyes, Y/N looks up at him, nodding once. She looks so sad and it kills him, mumbling out an "alright" as he reaches his hands out to help her stand. Once she's on her feet, she's capable of moving on her own, clutching her soft cardigan in arms. He doesn't want to touch her any more without her permission, especially if she hates him as much as she acts. He may be a dick, but he'd never intentionally try to make her feel uncomfortable when she's in such a vulnerable state.

Together, they walk out of the building and to the parking lot, where Harry's navy sedan is parked. He wants to make a joke about her pointing out that yes, technically he left his car in the faculty lot, but she just looks so exhausted that he doesn't have it in him. Gently, he guides her to the passenger's side and unlocks the car, making sure that she gets in safely. When she does, he rushes around the vehicle, placing her bag in the backseat and starting the car.

"Where do you live, Y/N?" Harry asks quietly. She looks over at him in his black Ray Bans and a small smile quirks at his lips. He knows she would never be caught dead in this style of sunglass, but for the time being, he wants to take a picture on his phone so he never forgets the way she looks.

"On Maple." she grunts out as she tucks her arms into her cardigan. It's the end of summer, slowly crawling towards fall, but the daily temperature is still quite warm. He frowns and lowers the air.

"Do you have a roommate that can take care of you?"

"I live alone."

His frown deepens at this as he pulls out of the parking lot and down the road. Yes, they're in grad school, both fully capable adults, but she has to get lonely living by herself, didn't she? He's never seen her out at bars or parties, and if stress migraines are a persistent thing in her life, how does she typically get through them alone?

Harry lives a few streets over from Maple so he knows how to get there. She makes some grumbly noise to let him know that he's reached their destination, so he parks outside and turns the car off.

"I'll walk you in, if that's alright," Harry says. She pauses as she undoes her seatbelt, taking a moment to glance at him through the dark sunglasses.

"Okay. But only because I need you to carry my bag in and make sure I don't puke on the way to my bed."

"Sure," he murmurs, making quick work to follow her inside. He realizes he must look ridiculous, dressed in all black with her pastel pink bag looped over his shoulder.

Y/N's house is very... Y/N. He's not sure what he expected since he's never really wondered about her living conditions, but the one-bedroom apartment is small and cozy, filled with art and plants and candles. Her favorite colors — or what Harry assumes to be her favorites — are constant threads throughout the home, accents of light pink and forest green dancing through her kitchen on mugs and in her living room on throw blankets and pillows. She has a large vase of sunflowers on her coffee table and a sting forms somewhere in his body, wondering if someone — a romantic someone — gave them to her.

Harry notices a small cat toddle towards her, instantly pawing at her shoes as she kicks them off.

"Not now, Ging," Y/N mumbles, "Love you bunches, but 'm still sick."

"Ging?" Harry asks as he gently places her bag on the velvet green armchair in her living room. He picks the tiny kitten up and strokes the white patch on its head.

"Short for Ginger," she replies, turning to look at him. Her eyebrows raise behind the sunglasses when she sees that Ginger is already in Harry's arms, purring away at his pets. If she wasn't in so much pain, she would roll her eyes at the little traitor. "Um... I'm just gonna go upstairs and change and go to bed."

Harry nods, "Do you need anything?"

If she's being honest, Y/N hates going through migraines alone. She can't do anything by herself and she feels far more isolated and lonely than usual. In college, her roommate, Kelsey, was helpful and understanding, but Kelsey moved across the country after graduation. Besides her parents, Y/N doesn't have anyone else to help her in times of need like this.

"Yeah," she finally sighs, much to both her and Harry's surprise, "Can you... just stick around for a little? It's fine if you have things to do, but migraines give me a lot of anxiety and I... it helps to have someone here. Also, Ginger is lonely."

"Well, if Ginger needs company, then I'm more than happy to stay."

It's the first time he's ever made Y/N smile.

Read part two here :) | Read part three here :)

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waywardxwords · 7 days

Text

Chapter 8 - Save Me

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language; there's a ton of dialogue in this one but I feel like it's necessary to prep for the chapters ahead

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3k

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how you felt about going to Kansas for the unforeseeable future. While it wasn’t like you went into an office everyday and you could really work from anywhere within the United States, you had still built your life in Virginia. You had friends—especially Jen—and it felt weird leaving her here, unable to defend herself. But Dean had assured you she would be taken care of, and you knew that you were unable to defend yourself against these monsters Dean and Sam knew how to fight.

“You about ready?” Dean asked as he tapped softly on your opened bedroom door.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you looked at your packed-to-the-brim duffel bag and backpack. Dean said it was important to pack as light as possible, but without knowing when you’d be back, it was hard to be selective in what you brought.

“I think so,” you mumbled, your lip caught between your teeth yet again. You released it as Dean stepped into the room.

“Hey, I know this is a lot to take in,” Dean started slowly. Both of the boys kept treating you like you were made of glass, which was a little bit annoying but also made sense. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m okay,” you said out loud for him, but also for yourself. “I’m not really a big fan of the unknown…I’m a planner.” You mumbled as you looked around at your things.

“Not big on taking chances, huh?” Dean chuckled softly as his eyes watched you move. Again, it was like he was waiting for it all to set in and for you to crumble.

“Nope,” you sighed as you finally looked back at him. “Rule follower, remember?” You managed a half-smile as you remembered the first time you met in Atlanta.

“Oh, I remember,” Dean smirked back. He took a few steps towards you and you both sat on the edge of your bed. “Just keep in mind–this doesn’t have to be forever.” Your head had dipped a bit, so he moved his to find your gaze.

“I get that,” you nodded. You didn’t want to offend him; this was his life. He was used to packing an ‘oh shit’ bag and getting out of town. He was used to all of the things that went bump in the night. You, on the other hand, were still trying to wrap your mind around it all. “I just wish I could circle a date on the calendar and know when I could come home.”

Dean nodded as he processed your words. “Tell ya what,” he started. “How about we take it one day at a time, for now,” he paused but you waited for the ‘and then’ part. “Once we get back to Kansas, we can sit down and come up with a plan. Figure out what it looks like so we can get you back home.”

You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there was a tone in his voice that almost sounded like he wasn’t looking forward to that. But since everything had happened, you really hadn’t been given a moment to figure out what this was between you and Dean.

“That sounds fair,” you answered honestly. Dean smiled and seemed hesitant, but leaned over and kissed the side of your head anyway.

“Good,” he seemed okay with your answer. He sighed and looked around at the rest of your room. “Anything I can do to help?”

You pushed your hair behind your ears and followed his gaze as you, too, looked around. “I don’t think so,�� you said softly. “I’ve packed just about everything that will fit into my bags. I’m just worried I’m forgetting something.”

“We do have stores in Kansas, ya know,” Dean winked as he stood and reached for your duffel. “Jesus, woman.” He muttered as he slung it over his shoulder. “You got a dead body in here, or what?”

You managed a laugh as you stood to follow him and slung your backpack up on your shoulders. “No, Dean, I think I’ll leave the dead bodies to you.” You patted him on the shoulder and walked just beyond him, but you heard him laugh as you rounded the corner into the hallway.

“Everything locked up?” Sam asked as you closed up the front door and headed to meet the boys in the driveway.

“Yep,” you sighed and readjusted your backpack a bit. “I mean, it probably doesn’t matter when it comes to demons, right? They can get through locked doors, I’m guessing.”

They didn’t answer you directly but nodded slightly. “I’m guessing you want to bring your car to Kansas?” Dean asked as he eyed your garage door.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answered quickly. “I just figured I would follow behind you guys, if that’s okay.” You said as you used the keypad on the side of the garage to type in your PIN number that opened the door.

Sam and Dean stared at you, confused for a minute. “Sam’s flying back to Kansas,” Dean said. “This is a rental so I figured I’d drop it off on the way and hitch a ride with you, if that’s alright.” His words made you turn around slowly and your brows pulled together in confusion.

“Wait,” you started carefully. “You flew here?”

Dean caught why you were so surprised and flashed his white teeth in a small smile. He pulled at the back of his neck as Sam watched you both look at each other. “Sweetheart, I don’t own European cars. Don’t drive ‘em either, if I can help it.” He shrugged as he thumbed to the Volkswagen Jetta in your driveway.

“Okay,” there was more you wanted to say but you decided not to rub in how much Dean hated flying in front of Sam. You weren’t familiar with their dynamic at all, but Dean had told you that he didn’t like being afraid, and that he always tried to be strong for his brother. You didn’t want to embarrass him or say something you shouldn’t in front of Sam. “Do I wanna know why you have to get back to Kansas quickly?” You turned your gaze to the younger Winchester.

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head. “Work…related,” he mumbled. “So probably not.”

You nodded once and turned back to your car. “Okay, then,” you breathed. “I’ll follow you to the airport and wait for you to drop off the rental.”

You loaded up your backpack and Dean tossed your duffel bag in the car. As you both turned away, you faced each other, maybe a foot apart.

“I’ll see you at the airport,” he said softly.

“Be safe,” you said back as you studied his features and tried to read what he was thinking. He nodded, and after one more look, he went to walk back to the rental car.

Before he could step away, you took a chance. You reached for his jacket and tugged so he turned back to you. With his jacket still between your fingers, you pressed your lips to his in a rather quick, but hard kiss. For a moment, he paused but then his hands cupped your face as he kissed you back.

As the pop echoed around you, you didn’t notice how Sam had turned to give you some privacy and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “What was that for?” Dean asked as his eyes looked between yours.

“To say I’m sorry, again, for not believing you,” you started softly but continued before he could say anything. “And for saving my life.” A small smile tugged up the corner of his lip just enough for his dimple to appear.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me again, got it?” His thumb caressed your cheek gently.

“No more apologizing from either of us,” you stared into his eyes until he nodded.

“Deal,” he agreed, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Okay,” you pulled back and waved at Sam. “Thanks to you too, Sam.” You called after him. He turned back around and nodded. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you in Kansas.”

“I’ll see you there,” he nodded as he waved. “Drive safe.”

You nodded and watched Dean walk back to the car. Just before he climbed into the driver’s seat, he called out after you. “And I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Even after everything, you couldn’t help the heat that radiated in your cheeks or the way a smile pulled across your lips.

Dean had dropped Sam off at the drop off area at the airport. Once he had gathered his backpack, you followed Dean to the rental car return. It only took a few minutes before you popped the trunk to your Toyota Camry and waited for Dean to toss in his duffel bag.

He pulled open the passenger door and leaned down. “You want me to drive?” He asked carefully. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who preferred driving, but you smiled and shook your head ‘no’ anyway.

“How about I take the first shift? And then we can switch,” you suggested. He seemed content enough with that response and climbed in. “Sorry it’s not the Impala.” You offered with a small smile.

“Ah, it’s alright,” he sighed as he pulled on his seatbelt. “I’ll get you in a Chevy or Ford, eventually.” He smiled back. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you pulled away from the airport.

“What’s the address?” You asked as you toyed with the navigation on the dash.

Dean grumbled, something about fancy cars and shitty navigation systems but you just rolled your eyes. He plugged in an address for Lebanon, Kansas.

“Jesus,” you mumbled, as the screen totaled your drive time at 20 hours and 32 minutes.

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Hope you’re ready for a long drive,” Dean chuckled. It was already late into the evening, pushing midnight by now.

“It’s weird, I feel like I’ve been up for days at this point,” you muttered as you adjusted the air and your seatbelt.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” He eyed you carefully. That was the thing about Dean’s gaze: you could feel it even when you didn’t see it.

“I’m alright. We can switch when we stop,” you shifted the car into drive and eased on the gas. Dean unbuckled his seat belt to pull off his jacket before he buckled it again. “I’m supposed to call Jen tomorrow. I’m not even sure what to say to her, she recognized you from the photos we found online.” The sound of your voice was anything but strong as your stomach flip-flopped.

“I’m guessin’ the truth isn’t an option?” Dean asked.

You shook your head no. “And say what? She got possessed by a demon named Meg, her eyes turned black and she flung me against the wall a few times? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d have me committed,” you fell into a comfortable speed as you got on the interstate and hit cruise control.

Dean half chuckled and shook his head as he glanced out the passenger window and then back to the windshield, his features illuminated by the headlights of drivers coming down the other side of the highway. “That probably wouldn’t go over too well. It’s a lot for anybody to take in.”

You muddled over a thought before you said it out loud. “How did you take it when you first found out?” You asked him as you glanced between him and the road ahead of you.

His brows kind of pulled together and you took that as his thinking face. “I don’t really know how to explain that,” he started softly. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really.”

Shock had to have graced your features but you tried to calm your expression. While you recognized this was all new to you, it wasn’t to Dean. And you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“When did you find out about the things that go bump in the night?” You asked him carefully.

“When I was four,” he didn’t look at you when he answered. Instead, his gaze went out the passenger window again as he watched the trees pass by in darkness.

“Four?! Dean, you were a baby,” you breathed. And then you remembered. “You were four when your mom died…”

There was a moment of silence that you took as his acknowledgment that you had the right idea. But then, he continued.

“My Dad kind of went into overdrive at that point. Trying to find what killed her,” he explained. You nodded as you tried to absorb it. When he didn’t offer up anything additional, you broke the silence.

“You were just a kid, Dean…” you felt a pang of sadness for the man next to you. It made you angry, even. “No kid should ever have to go through that.”

“No kid should have to lose their parent to some supernatural asshole, either,” he said back firmly. You somehow knew he wasn’t upset with you by the comment, just trying to make you understand. “Seeing my Dad go through that, and having to make sure Sammy was okay…” he shook his head as he trailed off.

The dots started to connect for you. Dad was busy fighting the monsters, Dean had to take care of his brother, you kept your thoughts to yourself but made a mental note. He had to be strong—couldn’t be afraid.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and resituated himself in his seat. “All that to say, I don’t know what it’s like, really, to be thrown into this world that I live in. But I know it can’t be easy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean,” you answered quickly, and you meant it. It seemed as though Dean was worried about protecting everyone in his life and being strong through it. “I don’t want to burden you with that.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna worry about you whether you’re sitting right here next to me, or you’re thousands of miles away in another state,” he looked at you when he spoke. “And it’s not a burden.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your bravery to ask the hard questions surprised you. Something about being in the car with him for almost a full day made your usual resolve soften.

“Shoot,” he stole another glance at you.

“Do you like it? Fighting…monsters?” You asked, for lack of a better word.

Dean mulled it over before he answered right away. “I like helping people,” he said simply. “I like being able to save people so they won’t have to go through the same thing we did.”

“But who saves Dean Winchester?” Your eyes found him in the dark car once again.

“I don’t need saving, sweetheart,” he smirked again, a hint of confidence to his tone.

“Everybody needs saving sometimes, Dean,” you answered softly.

The only noise around you came from the hum of the engine.

“I guess Sammy does,” Dean looked out the window. You could tell he didn’t want the conversation to continue at that point, so you switched gears slightly.

“Does it ever scare you?” The idea of fighting monsters terrified you, but you were curious if Dean was ever afraid.

He seemed to process the question like it was something he had never been asked, which shocked you considering the line of work. “I mean, I guess sometimes. Usually when one of us is in trouble.” You nodded, but he continued. “When one of us is knockin’ on death’s door, I guess that scares me.”

Each new fact you found out about this life Dean lived in brought on a new wave of shock. “Death?” You asked him as you looked between him and the road.

Dean chuckled, but you could tell it was from him being a bit uncomfortable. “Let’s save that one for another day,” he shifted in his seat.

Maybe that was a good idea. You redirected the conversation slightly. “Where does your fear of flying fall on the scale of being scared?” You smirked.

“Oh, that one’s still at the top of the list,” he winked with a wide smile that reflected the light from the streetlights as you drove, welcoming a lighter conversation.

“But you got on a plane anyway. To get to me,” you stole another glance in his direction.

“Well, yeah,” he said simply. “Sam said I should let it go, that something must have made you change your mind. But when I couldn’t reach you…” he shook his head. “I just had to be sure you were alright.” His words caused a flutter to form in your stomach, and you smiled, but that was shortly followed by a yawn that tugged at your jawline. “Getting tired?” Dean asked.

You shrugged a bit but couldn’t help the nod that followed. “It’s been a really long day,” you sighed. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“That’s what happens when shock starts wearing off,” he reached to place his hand just above your knee over your denim jeans. It was obvious it was meant as something comforting as his thumb traced small circles on the fabric there. “Why don’t we pull off? I can switch with you.”

“Dean, you need sleep, too,” you argued.

“We can stop eventually if I get tired, too. But I’m alright, sweetheart,” his voice was gruff and raspy–you could sense the exhaustion there, but you obliged.

There was a rest stop up ahead and you took the exit slowly. Once the car was in park, you opened the driver’s door to switch with Dean. As you both got settled in your new seats, Dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before he adjusted the mirrors.

“You just get some rest,” he said gently.

You nodded against the headrest of the seat and closed your eyes. “Night, Dean.” It wouldn’t take long for sleep to find you.

A/N: Happy Thursday, friends! I know this chapter probably felt a bit "filler" with the dialogue, but it was important for the development of future chapters. I promise things will get more interesting in the next chapter!

Let me know what you think! I appreciate all the likes, comments & reblogs more than you know!

Chapter 9 will be posted on (or maybe before, TBD) Thursday, 4/25!

Chapter 9 Preview:

One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean.

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take and you saw the smile spread across his lips.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both.

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings.

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.”

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly.

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?”

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roosterforme · 2 years

Text

Is It Working For You? Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Welcome back! Just making sure you didn't miss anything Masterlist

Summary: Back at the Hard Deck, Bradley shows off his talents. So what if you're a little jealous, you can handle it, right?

Warnings: angst, fluff, some swears, adult banter, getting more into 18+

Length: 3600

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

"Let me get this straight, you don't want to go out with him, but you want to go to the Hard Deck tonight to see if he's there?" Maria asked you as you shared a takeout dinner in your tiny apartment.

"Yes. Why doesn't that make sense to you?"

"Because it's ridiculous."

"So are you coming with me?" You whined, "Please, please, please. I'll look stupid if I go by myself, and Cam has a date with that guy who works for the financial planner."

Exasperated, Maria tilted her head back and reluctantly agreed. "Fine, but all my drinks go on your tab. And you're not allowed to embarrass me."

And that's how you found yourselves crammed into the Hard Deck at 9:30 on Saturday night. You hadn't realized until you got there that an aircraft carrier had arrived into port earlier that evening, and the place was swarming with crew members and their families.

"Holy shit, we'll never get all the way up to the bar to get a drink at this rate!" Maria complained. "Start throwing elbows."

"Sure," you muttered, head on a swivel, looking for Rooster. Maria just kept nudging you closer and closer to the bar where Penny and Jimmy were looking really frazzled. You and she ended up leaving with four beers and four tequila shots, afraid it might be awhile before you made it back for more.

"There's an empty spot on that ledge!" Maria yelled, and you prayed you could make it that far without wearing any of the tequila. Of course said ledge had a perfect view of the dartboard and Rooster, who had seemingly just arrived for the night.

You weren't sure if he had seen you yet. Then it struck you that he was perhaps going to keep avoiding you. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. Since he had his back turned your way, you took the opportunity to take inventory. Wild Hawaiian shirt? Check. Very touchable curly hair? Check. Jeans that were maybe slightly too tight but did lovely things for his butt? Double check.

"Why can't I meet a nice civilian who has a butt that tight?" you moaned into the beer that Maria handed you. And it wasn't even the beer you usually drank, the same one Bradley preferred as well. It was a weird pilsner and you didn't even really want it.

"You are so transparent in your lust for him, poor Rooster probably can't figure out what he did wrong with you," Maria said as she worked on her own bottle of beer. "I maintain that you deserve to be ignored. And, yes, I know you have your reasons, but you always jump to conclusions. Even Kyle was fun until he wasn't, right? It's never all bad. You never know, you could have a long and happy life with Bradley. A house in the country, some kids, maybe eventually grandkids. He would mow the lawn shirtless, you would bake him pies. A real love story."

You snorted. "Jesus, you sound like my mom."

"Yikes, time for shots then!" You each downed two shots in a row, and it wasn't too long until you started chatting with a friendly sailor and his wife who were next to you at the ledge. You actually managed to lose track of time for a while before checking to see where Bradley had gone.

Over all the noise, you noticed that someone had turned off or unplugged the jukebox. Then you heard the tinkling of piano keys as someone seemed to be warming up to play the old upright piano on the other side of the bar, but there were too many people packed inside for you to see who it was.

That's when you recognized the opening notes to the song. Whoever it was at the piano was playing "Roses" by OutKast. "What the hell?" you whispered, grabbing Maria by the front of her shirt and shaking her. "Can you see who's playing the piano?"

She pulled your hand away and glared at you. Since she had a good couple inches on your height, you hoped she'd be able to see further than you could. "Okay, just chill out! Oh, it's him. It's Rooster."

Not that you really needed the confirmation.

He played through the piano intro of the song a few times as you immediately abandoned Maria and trekked through the crowd with your second beer. By the time you got close enough to actually see him, he was stretching his arms wide before pounding out something else altogether.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain...

Oh Lord, was that his singing voice?

Too much love drives a man insane...

It was raspy perfection. Like bourbon with a sugary bite to it.

You broke my will, but what a thrill...

The other aviators began to crowd around the piano as you inched a bit closer.

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

Rooster had half the bar chanting along to the last line. Then everyone went completely wild, and you gaped at him as he played, clearly in his element as he entertained everyone. His aviator sunglasses were pushed down slightly lower on his nose and he winked at Phoenix, Bob and the others over the frames. His huge hands absolutely flew over the keys with that same elegant movement you'd already gotten used to from him.

As he finished the final notes at full volume, you caught his eye and a genuine smile crossed his face. You joined everyone in applauding him, even bouncing on your toes a bit in your excitement.

You wanted him. So. Badly. Your vision was a little bit all over the place, presumably from the tequila or the lust or both. You wondered if it was too late to get him to take you to that place in Del Mar after all. As you waffled back and forth, trying to decide the safest bet here, you noticed not one but two girls approach him where he was standing next to the piano. The jukebox screeched back to life just as your brain screeched to a full stop.

The girl on the right looked a bit like you, something that was very upsetting for your mind to process. And the other one, well she had her hand on his arm. And both of them were wearing clothing that looked like it was painted on. You glanced down at your boat shoes, ripped jeans and plain cotton tee. When you looked back up, Bradley was saying something that had both girls hooting with laughter.

Oh, you wanted to throw up. In fact, you thought you might.

"Hey, everything okay?" It was Phoenix, cautiously sidling up next to you. You realized you had been standing stricken, motionlessly clutching your beer bottle at chest height for who the hell knew how long.

Apparently you had a front row ticket to a riveting show called 'You Are Insanely Jealous And You Deserve Every Minute Of This', because not even fifteen feet away, Bradley was smiling at both girls.

"No, everything is bad. Very bad," you told Phoenix. "I am so dumb. God, I'm just terrible at this." Yet you were still unable to move.

"Look, I know he likes you. And honestly, he gets a ton of attention from the locals. This is really typical. It doesn't mean anything."

You turned to look at Phoenix, agony clearly written on your face. "He gets a ton of attention from them?"

"I mean, yeah, all the guys do. And Bradley's obviously pretty easy to look at. And he's nice to everyone, well except Bagman. But I think he would really rather have some attention from you, if I'm being honest here."

Your heart pounded harder as Maria came creeping through the crowds to your other side. "There you are! I couldn't find you, and then I ended up getting us some more shots while I was looking for you." She handed you a double shot of tequila and you downed it immediately, wiping your lips with the backs of your fingers.

And then one of the girls had Bradley's phone in her hand, and it looked like she was about to type in her phone number.

"Fuuuuck," you moaned as you handed your empty shot glass and beer bottle to Phoenix on your way to the piano.

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

Bradley's eyes stalked your every movement as you approached him. He had watched you knock back a shot and was a little nervous that meant you'd be leaving the bar for the night. Now it was like you were moving in slow motion for him. He noticed every toss of your hair and how your tongue peeked out of the corner of your mouth as you walked. The way your tight tee shirt pulled across your chest as you tossed your shoulders back in determination was almost his undoing. You looked just like you had last Saturday night when you spun around on your barstool, ready to put him in his place.

Then suddenly you were a foot in front of him, and he didn't know what to say. He had almost forgotten he had Libby and Charlotte attached to his arms. Or was it Lindsey and Scarlett? He had no idea.

"Hi," you told him in the steadiest voice you could manage.

"Hey, Y/N," Bradley replied, and to his shock he watched you pull his phone out of Libby's grasp and slap it against his chest, never once taking your eyes off his. Then you let your fingers trail down along every single button on the front of his shirt before clasping your hands in front of yourself.

"You can play piano," you told him, as if he was unaware of that particular talent he possessed.

"Yes, I can."

"You didn't play last weekend."

"No. I was too busy talking to you," he said in a matter of fact voice that had you biting your lip for a second.

"You played 'Roses'," you told him quietly.

Bradley nodded slowly as he tucked his phone back into his jeans pocket. "I did."

"Why?"

As he hiked his hands up onto his hips, he realized the other girls had vanished and he was more or less alone with you. "Why do you think?"

You shrugged dramatically. "I don't know, Rooster, probably to torture me?"

A startled laugh escaped him. "You think you're the one being tortured here? That's pretty funny. No, Y/N, I played it because I know you like it. And it's been stuck in my head since yesterday."

"It's been stuck in your head?" you asked, seemingly unsure of what else to say.

Bradley yanked his sunglasses off and let them hang from the top of his shirt. "Yeah, of course it has. It's been playing on repeat in my brain. I also can't stop thinking about that weird green hot sauce in the cafeteria that you like. Or how your car is the shittiest thing I've seen in a long time."

You looked down and fumbled with the hem of your shirt, but you were finally smiling. "It has character," you insisted.

"Sweetheart, please look at me," he muttered, and your eyes instantly snapped up again, pupils blown wide. "You're sending me some serious mixed signals here. I don't know what you want me to do. If you want me to stay away from you, just say so."

"I don't want that."

He sighed deeply. "You want to be just friends?" He watched you shrug in the most noncommittal way. "Because friends don't pull the kind of shit that you just did. You told me not to ask you out, then you sent those two girls packing. What's your deal?"

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

You stood before him, speechless. He was not going to let you off the hook easily. You swallowed down the awful feeling in your stomach. Wasn't honesty the best policy? You were so drunk, you weren't sure anymore. "What's my deal? I was incredibly jealous. That's my deal."

You watched Bradley's face for any sign of reaction, but he gave nothing away.

"Why were you jealous?"

"Isn't it obvious?" you muttered, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Your head was spinning wildly, and you needed to tell Maria that there was no way you'd be able to walk back to your apartment tonight.

"No, Y/N. It is not obvious."

Time to face the music. "Because I like you, that's why. And I'm wildly attracted to you. Jesus, Bradley, how could I not be?"

Bradley shook his head, and it was making you dizzier just watching him. "So many fucking mixed signals," he said under his breath as you took a stumbling step backward. "Are you okay?"

"I think I drank too much," you managed as you tried to take your phone out of your pocket to text Maria. "I don't know where Maria went, but we came here together. I feel awful."

Bradley took you gently by the elbow, and spun you halfway around so you were facing away from him. "She's right over there," he told you, and you tried to look to where he was pointing, his forearm resting on your shoulder. Your head was swimming. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asked, and his sweet, raspy voice in your ear calmed you down.

"Maria and I can get a Lyft," you told him as you leaned back against his chest. This felt so nice, you wanted to curl up into him and fall asleep. Bradley's hand slid down the side of your shoulder, anchoring you to him while he rubbed you gently through your sleeve.

"Is she your roommate?" he asked, his voice rumbling through his chest and soothing your back.

"Mmhmm, she is."

"I'll drive you both home," he said, wrapping his other arm around your waist and leading you toward Maria on the way to the exit.

"Haven't you been drinking?" you asked as you tried to walk as normal as you could.

"Not a single drink tonight."

"Why not?" you asked with a yawn, desperate to keep him talking. You'd missed his voice over the last few days.

"Because I drank most of a bottle of scotch last night after work in hopes I would be able to fall asleep. I thought my liver deserved a night off."

You didn't remember much more after that, other than Maria taking your hand as you felt the cool night air hit your face. And as Bradley buckled you into his front seat, he whispered, "Please don't barf in my Bronco, Sweetheart," next to your cheek.

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

You jolted awake in your bed and sat up quickly. It was sunny in your bedroom and your mouth tasted terrible. "Oh my God, did I throw up in his Bronco?" you croaked to your bedroom walls. Desperate to know what time it was, you gently rolled across your bed to where your phone was charging on the nightstand next to your glasses. Your head was on the verge of imploding, you were certain of that. How much did you drink last night?

You gingerly slid your glasses onto your nose. It was almost 10:00 on Sunday morning, and all of the other details of the previous evening came slowly flooding back to you. Bradley had played the piano for you. Well, he had played for everyone at the Hard Deck, but in some way, you were certain it had been just for you. And he had been sweet enough to drive you and Maria home, even though you were kind of an ass to him.

You suddenly started laughing and had to grip your head to make the throbbing stop. Had you really taken Bradley's phone away from that girl? You did remember slapping him in the chest with it, too. Add that to the list of things you would never do sober.

You had handled the situation like you owned him. And he let you do it. Bradley let you send those girls away without another look in their direction. His attention had firmly been on you. Just you.

A gentle tapping on your door sent your hungover head into a frenzy. "Yeah?" you croaked and a second later Maria's head poked inside. The smell of breakfast cooking made your stomach churn with hunger and something else unpleasant.

"Wow, you look terrible."

"I feel worse," you managed. "How much did I drink?"

"Well, I don't think it was necessarily the quantity so much as the tequila itself. Come on, I made you waffles. You'll feel better after you eat."

After you had two full waffles, some fruit and a lot of coffee in your stomach, you were able to converse like a human.

"Bradley drove us home, and I can barely even remember it. Was he nice to you? Was his car messy? Was he a good driver? Did he use turn signals?"

"Of course, no, pretty good, and yes. Also you'd probably like to know that he carried you inside from his car."

Your eyes went wide. "No!"

Maria nodded as she blew on her mug of coffee. "Yeah, he did. You fell asleep, and he insisted on letting you doze, so he scooped you up like a little baby and carried you to the couch."

"He carried me up three flights of stairs?"

An impressed look settled on Maria's face. "Yes, and let me tell you, your boy wasn't even slightly winded. He looked like he would have happily carried you to Texas if you had told him you wanted to eat BBQ for a midnight snack."

You groaned loudly, a combination of embarrassment over being carried by Bradley and sadness over not being able to remember it.

"Then after he left," Maria continued, "I managed to coax you into the bathroom to get you ready for bed. It was not easy to change you into pajamas or get you to take your contacts out while you fought with me, so you probably owe me lunch. Tequila makes you... difficult. And I've gotta ask, what are you going to do about your Rooster problem? Because if I saw things correctly from the bar, he ditched not one but two other girls as soon as you demanded his attention."

Indeed. What were you going to do about your Rooster problem?

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

The glimmer of hope that filled Bradley on Saturday night carried him all the way through Sunday. He ran almost seven miles before he noticed any fatigue, and then he lifted weights for an hour. He felt so good, he even went grocery shopping and stocked the small refrigerator in his barracks room.

You had staked your claim on him. At least it felt that way. You had said you were jealous, and you put your hands on him. And then you snuggled against him, and it had taken every ounce of his self control to keep his lips off your perfect neck. Because now he had a new problem; you had done all of that after you had been drinking.

Bradley needed to get you to talk to him, but he needed to make sure the timing was right. No alcohol, nobody else around, and no bullshit.

Monday did not prove to be the opportune time for that conversation. The entire day was truly a mess. Bradley had blown up at Maverick in front of an entire room of people, the flight training was a mess, and the team was not getting along. You were also nowhere to be found. Bradley must have looked to where Lieutenant Wilson and Lieutenant Harvey were sitting one time too many, because during a break, they had mercy on him and informed him that you were meeting with your superior officers.

"Do you know what it's about?" Bradley asked them.

"I'm assuming it has something to do with the mission. Y/N is the lead comms tech, so she usually gets updated information first," Cam Harvey said. "She's working really hard to make sure you're as safe as possible. We all are."

"Appreciated," Bradley replied with a nod. But by the time he was showered and leaving for the day, he still hadn't seen you. As he rode the elevator down alone, his phone buzzed with a message from Mav.

Beach day tomorrow. Meet by the seaside cliffs at 9 am. Dress for fun.

"What the fuck?" Bradley muttered, wondering what the message possibly had to do with the mission.

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

"I need you to implement this into the plan today. I don't know how many more weeks of training we have available before you all get hauled out to that carrier, so this needs to be perfect," Commander Bickel told you as you furiously entered code into the navigation simulation program for the F/A-18 Super Hornets. You had been holed up with him in his office all day. Every tiny bit of new information that was collected needed to be taken into consideration. The mission was too important to miss something and regret it later. Apparently the hillside slopes around the SAMs had initially been miscalculated, and you were currently updating them with satellite imaging.

The fact that Rooster could be there in person made you strive for perfection. Plus, you actually liked your boss. He was fair and friendly and you respected each other.

'Yes, sir. I'll take care of it."

You worked late into the evening before you were dismissed, but on the way out Bickel told you, "You've been invited to a beach day tomorrow, courtesy of Captain Mitchell. Harvey and Wilson, too."

"Sir?"

"Take the day off tomorrow and enjoy yourself."

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

Thanks for reading! The next chapter.... oh boy, get excited for it!

Check out Part 5

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#top gun fanfiction #rooster fanfic #rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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ofbreathandflame · 4 months

Text

(okay so this is actually a couple months ago but i was writing something and i was oh - this kind of sounds familiar to something ive written somewhere. its a draft so forgive me for jumping around hehe

ive seen the resurgence of this topic and it really hints at the differences between the way the pro/anti sides read this books.

this argument is a much older one - and the orginal argument was that sjm undervalues feminine work, not 'feyre undervalues feminine work.' the framing is very important toward the argument being made; if we say that 'feyre undervalues female work/femininity' then we're looking at a very narrow focus. we are making a statement about her character, not the characterization and writing decisions that go into making the character. when we say that 'sjm undervalues feminine/house work' then we are making a much broader statement. because then we are making a criticism toward the writing decisions, not character decisions. the reason this is important, in particular, is because often the story struggles with distinguishing sjm's voice from feyre - hence why we are often told things, and shown another.

the important takeaway from this argument is that sjm often chooses not to show or elaborate on the 'feminine' coded things; that in the books thereafter - there are two black-coded women in the background doing alll of the housework, and another older black-coded woman doing all of the medical work. and another black-coded woman in the spring court doing alllll household of the work. its that even though the 'laziness' of the sisters was a focal point in their relationship fracture, the story never actually acknowledges these things - or that even feyre did them. the focus is always on the hunting. its that the book assigns these task to black women and never talks about it again. that feyre was able to assume this fatherly role (hunting) is what the story argues is the sacrifice. bc the story is adamant about the women not falling into the 'party-planner' 'lady' 'baby-making' role. why be 'just a mother' when you can be a highlady fire wielding, death-beating, seer, goddess warrior. being 'just a mother' isn't enough. being 'just a party planner' isn't enough women who occupy that 'just a mother role' are often women who are violently killed off and unnamed, victims of hyperviolence, or characterized as vapid (rhys and tamlin mother, lyria, sorsha, marion, loa, cassian's mom, az's mom, mother archeron, dorian's mother, ember - who occupies both roles imo). there is an unwritten, negative consequence associated with being 'just a mother' -- and its not until sjm herself becomes a mother that we even see semi-positive representations of motherhood (yrene, embe, feyre; and even in this case - feyre still falls into the catergory above). in short - the narrative works against sjm newfound appreciation of motherhood and it's also demonized as femine-coded work that isn't considered valid.

instead of actually holding the sisters accountable for ‘not doing enough’ the narrative just assigns the task to invisible women and moves on from the discussion. and this segues into a wider discussion of representation and white feminism; how it’s okay to always place black/brown-coded women in invisible positions of servitude and service (madja, alis, nuala and cerridwen, nehemia, sorscha). think about this - the story essentially praises that feyre does all of this work and that she deserves to rest by....giving the work to these black handmaidens to do; ofc this argument is analytical and subjective (i.e. its my opinion), but i think there's always something so weird about framing the discussion around the fact that 'feyre deserves to rest,' instead of actually getting at the problem of having servants to begin with.

we get a moment where feyre sees her boots falling apart and instead of just taking nesta's boots (bc she was asking for another pair) or mending her own (feyre is just assumed to only have one pair). she kind of just throws herself a pity party. there’s like feyre doesn’t think like a survivalist, nor do her sisters even act realistically impoverished. even if nesta and elain where stereotypical mean girls they still would not act like that given how long they’ve been in that position. im sure nesta and elain know how to sew, so at the very least, they could’ve been mending clothes, making their own clothes and shoes. that is a ‘feminine’ coded task that could have easily been incorporated into the story to make their circumstance more believable. instead the emphasis is always put on the masculine coded activity: the hunting.

the reason the statement even comes up is because the story often disparages 'femininity' in the name of progression (i.e. this is why elain's character exists in a vacuum; she is praised for the same qualities she was vilified for). the 'progression' in this case is an approximation to masculinity. its why the sisters must go on a journey before settling into femininity and why the book essentially believes training is the answer for the illyrian women oppression. its what the book distinguished feyre away from her sister with. it’s that the story doesn’t acknowledge a decade, of at the very least, regular household tasks.

#anti sjm #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti sjm: nesta archeron #anti sjm: elain archeron #anti acosf #anti sjm: feminism discussion

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honey-flustered · 1 year

Text

I Loved You First

(1 of 2)

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, some Steve Harrington x Reader

Friends to Lovers trope (Fluff/Angst)

Summary: With your occult club’s big road trip coming up before graduation and prom, Eddie plans to confess his love for you. Only he’ll have to deal with competing for your attention from Steve and other human-shaped obstacles. (8.5k+ words)

Warnings: jealous!eddie, lovesick!eddie, hinted yandere!eddie, hurt and angst, insecurities, soft fluff, pining, idiots in love, boys fighting over reader, ugly duckling/swan reader backstory, mostly from eddie’s perspective, reader nicknamed “baby” or “babe”, one use of (y/n), eventual smut

Dear, stupid fucking heart

Why’d you have to go and make me fall for my best friend?

……

Oh, if only you’d look at him more…then you’d see the way he looks at you. You’d see the yearning in those big brown eyes that borders sorrow at the belief you’d never feel the same.

Yes, he’s willing to endure this pain of unrequited love for the rest of life as long as he tells you how he feels. But the issue of the matter is would he be able to handle everything else? Like the pain of seeing you in the arms of someone else. Or even worse, possibly ruining his friendship with you forever.

So he pitifully pines for you in silence, planning night after night how he’d approach his confession to you. And maybe it’s childish that he’ll remember to mention that he loved you first. But he did love you first. Before any of them. Before you blossomed into the raving beauty you are today.

Eddie saw you when you felt invisible. On days you hated the way you looked, he loved you the most. And whenever you’d let yourself be geeky and unabashed, he’d fall for you all over again.

He. Loved. You. First. Before them all.

They wouldn’t understand your humor, the things you find interesting, the weird hypothetical conversations. They wouldn’t understand you. The real you. But he understands.

So why? Why won’t you look at him?!

Wait, you were looking at him! Did you just say something? Shit! Eddie had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t registered a peep of what you said.

“Huh?” Eddie says.

“Welcome back to Earth. Did you have a nice journey in space?”

“Hardy har har.” He says sarcastically.

“You can’t blame me for teasing,” You giggle. “You’ve been out of it lately. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine just thinking about this trip.”

He tries to walk ahead of you to keep you from seeing the blush on his face but you quickly take his hand and lead him back to you.

You place your hands on his shoulders, commanding him to look you in your eyes. “Firstly, I wanted to say thank you for going on this trip with me as my plus one. I know how you feel about the gemini twins considering they were big bullies in middle school. But they aren’t …entirely awful anymore. If that sounds remotely convincing.”

“It does not.”

“On to my next point, I guess. Maybe you’re out of it because you know who the twins will be bringing as their plus one. I know that you still have feelings for Chrissy and it’s okay that you do. Strong feelings take time to go away. This could either be an experience of closure or something that may very well bloom.”

He wraps a hand over yours. “I can assure you. I’m so over her. All I care for now is for this to be the best trip ever for the two of us. Especially for you. You’re the trip’s planner and I know how much this means to you for everything to go accordingly.”

“With you as my good luck charm, this should be running smoothly,” You grin, picking up a book of spells from the shelf. “I forgot to thank you for giving me a ride to this occult shop. So, thank you. You’re the fucking best.”

“It’s nothing. You can ask me any time.”

“No but, seriously, you’re the best. I know I’ve been a little annoying asking you to give me a ride all over the place like a goddamn chauffeur since my car fucked up,” You lower the book from your view. “How’s my car doing by the way? Ever figured out the issue?”

“Nope,” Eddie lies. “Still looking for any sign of damage. But don’t worry. You can never annoy me. Except for whenever you sing Cyndi Lauper at the top of your lungs. Then, it’s like ‘Jesus H. Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me?’.”

Another lie. He actually loves it when you do that.

You gawk at him in feigned offense, shoving him playfully. “A girl just wants to have fun, Edward. I should be allowed time after time.”

He snorts. “Referencing her song titles casually in conversation? That’s a new one.”

“Clever, ain’t it?” You wink. “So, what do you think of this spell book? Is it good enough for ‘show and tell’ night?”

“Unless we read anything in there that’ll come true, I doubt anyone would be impressed.”

“Oh, so you don’t think the tickle spell works?” You say, blinking innocently.

“The tickle spell?” Your pure features morph into a sinister smile and Eddie knew he’d walked right into that one. He raises a hand to halt you. “Do not even think about it. I bite.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Your fingers dance around his sides and he begins to giggle like a schoolgirl while cursing you like a sailor.

“S-stop t-that.” He strains between laughter.

“Alright,” You sigh, easing off of him. “Sorry, Eds. I saw an opportunity and had to seize it. You always did say you’re convinced I was a dad in another life.”

“That was mean. You know, I’m very sensitive to that,” He says while still laughing. “What was that for?”

“Because I like your smile and you’re not doing enough of that today.”

Eddie smiles wider, knowing he probably looks goofy but he’s on a high from your words. He leans back against the shelf, tilting his head to one side. “You notice my smile patterns?”

“Of course, I notice. I’m a funny person if you’re not laughing then that hurts my ego.” You quip.

“We don’t want you hurting that now, do we? It’s not like it’s the size of Texas or something.”

“You’re one to talk. You know the saying ‘big ego, little ears’.” You tug on his ears.

“My ears are far from small, sweetheart. Among other things.” He clicks his tongue.

You tug his ears with more force. “There’s that ego showing.”

He brings his hands up to yours, pulling gently. “I showed you mine. Show me yours.”

It felt as if the shelves were closing in around him but in a good way. Like the atmosphere was coming together just so it could push the two of you together. For a second, it looks like you’re looking at him the way he’s always wanted you to. But before he could lean any closer, an unexpected presence interrupts the momentum of his bravado.

“What are you guys doing?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

You look over at him, beaming. “Comparing our egos.”

Peeling off your best friend, you walk over to Steve and the two of you share a quick embrace. Eddie sighs his frustration quietly, pulling himself up from the shelf to greet his close friend.

“Harrington,” Eddie greets as the two clap each other up. “What are you doing here? Didn’t think this type of shit was your scene?”

“Baby invited me.” Steve says, pointing your way.

“Yeah, sorry, Eds. I forgot to mention that Steve’s tagging along with us on the trip,” You explain. “He’s been trying to find something for show and tell, too. So, I invited him to the search with us. Now that Steve’s going on the trip, the twins and Chrissy being there doesn’t seen so bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, trying to disguise the disappointment in his tone. “I’m stoked but…confused. How are you able to go? Robin’s taking Vickie as her plus one.”

“I’m Dustin’s plus one,” Steve replies. “Apparently, his mother trusts me to supervise him on this trip.”

Eddie had forgotten that Dustin joined the occult club in addition to the hellfire club. Dustin had done so after one summer of reading strictly horror comics in which his fascination for lovecraftian creatures and cryptids grew.

“Aww, babysitter Stevie’s back.” You poke fun.

He glares at you, arms crossed. “I thought we retired that title.”

“I thought so, too. Yet here we are,” You fired back. “So what exactly are you looking to impress us with?”

Steve thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. In fact, I shouldn’t be telling you guys what I’ll be bringing in if I’m going to win.”

“Try all you might, dear, but you’ll never beat me.” You challenge.

“What about you, Eddie? I’m guessing you think you’ll be winning this, too.”

“I’m not doing it, actually. I figured I’d let Baby have her shine in this.”

What seem like an innocent noble act to him was taken as an offensive blow to you.

You quirk up an eyebrow. “It almost sounds like you’re saying that if you were to join show and tell, you’d beat me hands down?”

Steve grimaces. “It does sound a lot like that, buddy.”

“I’m being a gentleman.” Eddie defends.

“Spare me,” You scoff. “I don’t want your pity. I want you to put your money where your mouth is. I’ll see to it that you bring your show and tell item. That way we’ll really see who comes out on top. For now, we’ll split up and we’ll leave our choices as a surprise.”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve says. “You two know much I love a little friendly competition.”

“I’m going to another section of this store. Try not to follow me.” You say in an alluring tone before strutting.

The boys wait until you’re a good enough distance before they began their sparring of words. Unbeknownst to you, some weeks ago, the boys caught on to each other’s feelings for you. Although they’ve mentioned to keep things cordial, as the two viewed one another as brothers, it proves to be quite difficult when they’re always trying to one up each other.

“So…Steve,” Eddie says with a tight smile. “You’re attending the trip. I thought you were passed high school things now that you’re a big college boy and all.”

“I decided I need to be there for my good friend, Dustin.” Steve says, matching Eddie’s polite tone.

“He’s my friend, too, ya know.”

“He was mine first.”

Eddie points at him, narrowing his eyes and smiling.“Got me there, bud. But ya know,” He begins, pacing slowly. “Baby was my friend first. Just to clear that up.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just sayin’,” Eddie shrugs, guiltlessly. “I mean, don’t be surprised during the trip if you don’t have her attention.”

Steve smirks. “Is it that I won’t have her attention or that I won’t take her attention…from you? Because the latter implies that no matter how hard I try, it wouldn’t be enough to take her away from you. But here’s the thing, Munson, I really don’t have to try. I won’t need to have her attention when she’ll already be looking at me.”

“I don’t know, man. Do you really think so? Because if she really were actually paying any attention to you, she’d see how extra swishy your hairs looking today. Looks like that Farrah Fawcett hairspray is really working miracles. You’d think she’d at least compliment the hair.”

“Oh, she’ll notice,” Steve winks. “Give it time.”

The boys exchange heated looks not registering your presence as you peeked your head in the corridor. “Did you guys find what you’re looking for?”

Steve runs his hands through his hair and sighs, “Not quite.”

“Yeah, me neither. Going to keep hunting,” You nearly continue on your way but end up doing a double take instead. “Stevie, you’re putting the ‘hair’ in ‘Harrington’ today! It just looks so glorious. Like Disney prince.”

“You flatter me.” Steve says, smugly.

When you leave, he sends Eddie a ‘told ya so’ look and Eddie fumes to himself. What’s wrong with his hair? Sure, you’ve complimented his hair every now and then but you’ve never compared it to a Disney prince’s hair. That’s a pretty top-tier compliment!

You win this round, Harrington.

——————

After purchasing your findings from the occult shop, you go over to Eddie’s place to help him pack. He’s usually last minute with these things but it never bothers you especially when you get to see his wardrobe. Sometimes, he’d even model them for you.

“Oh, please! Model this hat for me.” You plead, hands clasped.

“You setting me up, woman.” He says, spotting your polaroid camera that you did a poor job of hiding behind you.

“Come on, for me,” You pout, giving your best puppy dog eye. “I won’t take your picture.”

“Fine. But only one outfit. Just let me go into the closet and change really quick.” He grumbles.

After a few moments, he returns out of the closet wearing a Roger Rabbit costume from that one Halloween two years ago when the two of you went as Roger and Jessica Rabbit. You erupt into giggles, holding your stomach as you fell back against the mattress.

“Why?”

“Because I knew it’d make you laugh,” He says, walking over to you. You wait until his face comes in view before you take your camera and snap a picture and he looks at you with a look of stunned betrayal. “You said no pictures.”

“I can’t help it,” You say through your fit of laughter. “Why do you still have that costume?”

He tries to grab the camera from your hands but you move away, going further up the bed. He crawls after you and pulls your legs, dragging you beneath him to get the camera. He loses track of what he was aiming for, looking at you giggling below him. His lower body pressed up against yours.

Your laughter dies on your lips as you stare up at him with doe eyes. He’s breathing hard but not from the rigorous struggle to capture you.

You face heats up and Eddie’s confused as to why you seem so flustered. That is until he shifts his weight above you and feels the heavy and very hard uninvited entity between his legs, poking at your exposed belly.

His cow eyes widen, lips parted as his cheeks paint pink. “Erm—I—It’s not what it—“

You snap another photo of his reaction. “Gotcha.”

He peels off your body, sitting up in a daze while trying to adjust the cartoonish red shorts. You sit up as well, examining the photos with a fond smile. He snaps out of it, glancing over your shoulder to see the results.

“They’re perfect.” You sigh.

“I look like a tweaker.”

“But you’re my little tweaker,” You pinch his cheek. “Besides, this is for my personal collection. Something to cheer me up before I leave for university.”

Oh, right. He’d forgotten about that. Or better yet, he’s been trying to forget. He just couldn’t imagine going over to your place and not seeing you there. If he were smarter, he’d be going with you but he knew he couldn’t get accepted with his grades. He’d only barely made it as a graduate, thanks to the assistance of his friends who never gave up on him.

But of course you were leaving for university. Eddie was the one who encouraged it. Even when you told him that you’d attend community college just to be with him. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t let you strive for the stars? You wouldn’t have let him settle if Eddie got the deal of a lifetime regarding his music.

So, as the saying goes… if you love someone, let them go.

“I’m really going to miss you.” Eddie says, quietly.

You laugh humorlessly. “Probably not too much since Jeff and Gareth will be staying in town. Then there’s also Steve.”

“They’re all great but…they’re not you,” Eddie admits. “Wanna know why I kept this stupid costume? It’s because it was one of the best Halloween’s for me. We stayed up all night in my trailer getting high, listening to Weird Al, talking about stupid shit that didn’t even matter. I loved that night. And I love…I love…”

He had no issue before telling you that he loved you. But that was when his love for you was a lot more tame in meaning. Now that his love for you burns with the intensity of a thousand suns, he chokes up in fear.

“…I love being around you. You’re my best friend.” He finishes, avoiding your gaze so you couldn’t see him being angry with himself.

He feels the slightest touch on his hand, your fingers curling around it. He swivels his head in your direction, seeing a sincere and loving smile on your face.

“Is it safe to admit that I still have my costume because it was one of the best nights of my life, too?”

He breaks a smile and you do the same, holding each other’s hand in comfortable silence.

——————

5am sky paints like a canvas of dark to milky blues and a tinge of orange in the mix as the sun rose up. Everyone was set to meet on the campus of school around this time.

In one car, there was Steve, Dustin, Robin, and Vickie. In the other were you and Eddie. Both cars pulling up in the lot simultaneously.

You exit the vehicles heading over to greet the girls and Dustin, going on excitedly about what was up on the itinerary for the 2 days. Eddie momentarily greets the group before turning his attention to Steve for yet another showdown.

“Harrington.” Eddie mutters in disdain, arms crossed.

“Munson.” Steve replies in an equally hostile tone.

“Henderson,” Dustin says, cutting in with a finger raised. “What’s with all the testosterone circling between you two? Somebody lost a video game rematch again?”

“Don’t mind us, Henderson,” Steve says, eyes still staring intensely at his rival friend. “Eddie and I are just having a little discussion.”

“You’ve only said one word to each other. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed you guys are fighting over Baby,” Dustin says, laughing hysterically until he darts his eyes nervously between the boys. “P-please don’t tell me that I’m right.”

You enter the conversation, the girls following after. “Hey guys, what’s with the long faces? Was there a video game rematch that I missed?” You ask, concerned.

“Oh, no. We’re just playing around like we always do. Right, buddy?” Eddie says while ruffling Steve’s hair out of place causing Steve to stare daggers at him.

He plays it off with a laugh, fixing his hair again.“Yeah, just boys being men.”

“Oookay,” You say, puzzled. “Well, it looks like everybody else is running a little lat—oh no, I stand corrected. A few more cars are coming in.”

Eddie recognizes that red Camaro anywhere. But it couldn’t be. What would he be doing on a trip like this? But then he remembered: the douchebag had a little sister. Max.

“Billy fucking Hargrove.” Eddie and Steve say at once then exchange looks with one another.

“The hell’s he doing here?” Steve asks.

“You know this genius,” Robin says. “Max is a part of this club and she really wanted to go on this trip but couldn’t go without trusted supervision so…”

“He’s her plus one.” Eddie finishes with a groan.

Here’s your history with Billy Hargrove. He’s your neighbor. A couple years before you became the ‘beauty bombshell’ you are today, you had a crush him. Eddie knew of this which embarrassed you a bit because Billy wasn’t very nice to you or Eddie back in high school. He was always ignoring you and when he did know of your existence he’d tease you for being so flustered around him. That was until one summer starting your Junior year—him, his senior year—when you came back a whole new person.

Billy loves a challenge and you were definitely going to be one. Not only did you loathe him because you realized how shallow of a male he was but it made it much easier for you to despise him knowing his feud with Steve.

But Eddie knew Billy would stop at nothing to impress you despite him having plenty of options to choose from on this trip.

Max is clearly not in the best mood with her step brother being there. But she cheers up a little when she meets up with the gang.

Billy follows shortly behind with an awkward silence from the gang. Of course, his sights were on you but for now he decides to focus on the man he’d least expected to there.

“Is that King Steve?” Billy says

“Yeah, yeah, It’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve mutters.

“I think you and I are going to get along on this trip. I’m feeling it,” He smirks then turns his attention to you and Eddie. “Well, don’t you both just look so precious. Have you guys finally tied the knot yet?”

Eddie scrunches up his nose in anger ready to fire so harsh words but you were quick with an answer. “Careful. All that hot air you’re filled with will make you fly away some day. Try talking less, maybe.”

“I’m just teasing, Babe. I know Munson could never talk you out of your pants. Hell, he couldn’t even talk you out of a car if it were burning.”

“Why don’t you fuck off, Hargrove? Or do you need somebody’s mom to help do that for you?” Eddie says, referencing Billy’s run-ins of sleeping with married women.

Billy sneers. “I needed a smoke anyway.”

The moment he leaves you drop the mean mug on your face, smiling brightly as you raise a hand for a high five. “We are a snarky pair. Nice touch on the ‘mother fucker’ joke.”

Eddie laughs, high-fiving you. “Mother…fucker? That’s genius, Baby. I don’t know how you come up with these things.”

A few more cars begin to pull in and you recognize them to be Jonathan and Argyle, The Twins and Chrissy, and the remaining of the club which one of member in particular happened to be your ex-boyfriend, Avery Spinelli.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be on the trip,” Eddie whispers. “Will you be okay spending the two days with him?”

“Oh, yeah,” You wave off. “Avery and I are still good friends. We simply just didn’t work out. If I can be in an hour and 30 minute meeting with this guy. 2 days will be nothing.”

You wait until everyone meets in the middle to begin your roll call. Once you were sure everyone was present you began to go over the trip details and itinerary.

“Good morning, everyone! I love seeing those smiling faces,” You pause for a moment, glancing at the group who all looked equally exhausted and annoyed. You swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly. “Ok, I can see that we’re not all fully awake yet. That’s fine because you will be once we get to Point Pleasant, West Virginia. Of course, that’ll be in about 9 hours, but at least this’ll allow us the chance to get to know one another more intimately.”

“That’s cool and all, dudette, but I’ve got a girlfriend that’ll kill me if I do anything like that.” Argyle says.

“Intimate as in personal, Aggy,” You explain. “Nothing sexual in nature. There are children present.”

“Mother says I’m a little man.” Dustin pouts.

“You’re not helping your case.” Max says, patting his shoulder.

“Onto the main focus of this trip,” You continue. “There’s a reason why I chose Point Pleasant. Specifically, because of Mothman sightings. We’re going to share a cabin in the woods where we’ll get to see whether or not it exists. On Day 2, we’ll be going to the cornfield to spot mysterious alien crop circles. It’s going to be a blast! Ava and Ida, would you girls like to add anything?”

“Yes,” Ava steps to the front. “This will also be a very healing experience. We’re going to really tap into the spiritual side of ourselves because in order to connect with the world of occultism, we must look within ourselves first.”

“Oh, brother.” Eddie mutters to himself, possibly too loud.

“I’m sorry, Munson. Did you like to add anything?” Ava says, bringing all eyes on him.

Eddie clears his throat awkwardly, steps up from the circle. “I just wanted to bring up an interesting fact about the cabin. Someone was murdered in one of the rooms there. Good luck finding which one.”

He steps back into place and the group is silent for a moment. You break the silence. “T-thank you for that heads up, Eddie. Well, we should be hitting the road now. There’s 15 of us. I’m thinking we carpool so there are less cars. Eddie and Argyle suggested that they’ll be taking their vans. Billy’s taking his own car as well. Which leaves the RV. A big thank you to Avery for bringing his dad’s RV. It’s perfect for carrying at least the majority of us.”

“Anything for you, Babygirl.” Avery winks.

Eddie seethes. The nerve of him to address you so casually. As if he still had you. By the look on your face, Eddie understood that you were just as confused at the sudden nickname. Usually, people just called you ‘Baby’ simply because of how kind you were but Avery thought he was just sooo clever calling you ‘Babygirl’ like it was any deviation from the original nickname.

“Dustin and I will be riding with you guys,” Steve says to you, watching Eddie’s reaction from the corner of his eye. “Robin and Vickie are going with Argyle for ‘herbalist enthusiasts’ reasons.”

Eddie almost forgot about obstacle #1. He was so caught up with the men that could potentially set their sights on you that he ignored the one who’s actively doing so.

“Maybe I should switch cars.” You joke.

“You’d never leave me.” Eddie scoffs.

“True, but that’s only because you’re terrible at reading a map.” You tap his nose before skipping away.

“I can totally read a map!”

“No, you can’t.” Steve and Dustin say simultaneously, jolting Eddie in surprise.

—————

“Bullshit! Bigfoot would annihilate Mothman,” Dustin argues. “Are you serious? Mothman? Because he has wings? Bigfoot would rip those clean off.”

“Mothman can carry Bigfoot in the air, drop him and turn him into a pancake,” You challenge. “Meanwhile all Bigfoot does is hide. Probably because he can’t fight.“

“Bros, help us settle this thing. This girl has no idea what she’s talking about. Eddie, what’s your pick?”

“I’ll have to go with Mothman, too. She’s made some pretty valid points.” Eddie shrugs.

“Thank you, Eds.” You smirk at Dustin. Meanwhile, Eddie sticks his tongue out at Steve through the reflection of his rearview mirror.

“Of course you would.” Dustin glares at Eddie.

“I actually think it would be Bigfoot that wins. He’s hiding because he’s working on some gains, obviously. Dude’s hiding a six-pack under all that fur. Mothman’s got the physique but no strength. Take it from me. I was an athlete so…” Steve finishes.

Dustin raises a chin smugly at you.

“Very valid point, Stevie. I’ll admit defeat,” You say, turning in your seat to bow your hands up and down. “All hail, King Steve and Sir Dustin.”

You sit back in place and Steve repays Eddie’s taunting, raising a middle finger the moment Eddie looks into the mirror.

“So what’s the first thing we’ll be doing today?” Steve asks you.

You read out the schedule in your planner. “We’ll meet up at the cabin, put our things away. And then we’re going to explore the haunted chapel.”

“A haunted chapel? I think I heard another interesting fact about a particular ghost that lives there. People say it’s a type of ghost so powerful when it possesses you, you begin to shake violently.” Eddie says.

Your eyes become the size of saucers. “Oh my god! What kind of ghost is that?”

“The holy ghost.”

Breaking your fearful stare, you laugh hysterically. “That was such a dad joke. I thought those were my thing.”

“I can be funny, too.” He laughs.

After hours upon hours of driving, Eddie could feel himself tiring out from staring at the road too long. You catch on to his sluggish reaction times, his silence noticeably missing from the group’s conversation. Feeling concerned for everyone’s safety, you address the situation.

“You’d like for me to drive?” You offer.

Eddie waves off your concerns. “I’m great. I’ve driven cross country in 2 days to meet with a producer who gave me a handshake along with a signed Metallica CD and sent me on my dirtbag way. This is nothing.”

“But you look so tired.”

“I could drive.” Steve says.

“I’m not letting you near my baby.” Eddie says, defensively. He blinks fast, eyes wide like a deer in headlights at the possibility of being taken out of context. “I meant like not letting you drive my van…who is like a baby…to me.”

Steve mouths a ‘Nice save’ to him.

“Eddie, please,” You pout, shaking him lightly. “You need rest. You wouldn’t want to risk getting anyone like Dustin hurt, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He sighs, reluctantly parking the car off to the side and the cars following do the same.

“Thank you,” You pat his hand. “You can go ahead and switch seats with Steve.”

“You’ll come to the back with me, right?” Eddie asks with pleading eyes.

“I’ll need help with the map, too. Sorry,” Steve shrugs. “You’ve got Dustin to keep you company, though.”

Eddie turns to look at Dustin who smiles a red smile at the metalhead, teeth and mouth red from the cherry popsicle he’d gotten from a rest stop.

Eddie exhales grumpily. “Alright. But you’re sharing whatever snack you’ve got in that gigantic backpack you’re carrying.”

“Even the strudel?” Dustin whines.

“Is that even a question? Now move over, I’m diving in.” Eddie says, pulling off his seatbelt to crawl over the console into the back.

“At least wait until I’m out of the seat.” Steve grumbles, struggling to exit the van while dodging Eddie’s wild movements. He takes his place in the front seat, locking in his seatbelt to see you watching him in content.

“Hey, cell mate 3027, looking cool.” You smirk.

“Right back at ya, 3026.”

The two of you had a little insider due to your family’s ending up in the same hotel for a holiday vacation. His room was 3027 and yours 3026.

It was your sophomore year and you only knew Steve as kind of a jerk. But by his junior, his attitude improved and on your family’s vacation, when you’d spotted him, he was kind enough to say ‘hi’ despite you being considered a ‘loser’. He’d even give you the cellmate nickname whenever he ran into you and it stuck ever since. When Eddie and Steve became friends a little after Steve graduated, your bond grew from there.

A tap on the window alerts everyone to look in the passenger window.

Billy Hargrove.

You groan your frustration and lower the window.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” You say dismissively, your arms crossed. “We just switched drivers because it’s a long drive.”

“You’re thinkin’ smart and safe. I like that,” Billy praises. “That’s why you’re in charge.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.

“You know, I’m really glad to be here,” He leans in. “I could use the time to really be one with nature and challenge my world view. Max invited me out of obligation and I was pretty bummed at first. Then, I heard you’d be here and I don’t know…somehow it made me feel okay.”

You snort. “Why? I don’t even like you or could even stand to talk to you.”

“Yeah, but I’d like change that. I don’t know what it is about you lately, Sassy… but I can’t get you out of my head. I’m thinking it’s divine intervention that I’m here with you instead of anywhere else. Maybe I can make things right between us.”

Your face heats up at the deep richness of voice. You avoid his gaze, crossing your arms and he smirks as if he’d won a prize. The smooth bastard.

Steve rolls his eyes and says, “You can go now, Hargrove. We’re all good here.”

“Understandable,” He says, tapping the side of the van. “Guess I’ll be seeing you again at the cabin.”

You remain silent, glaring at him.

He chuckles, nodding. “I’ll get you to warm up to me eventually.”

He walks off and you let out a breath you weren’t sure you held. He just made you so tense sometimes that you couldn’t help but to go stiff. You had to admit though…he has a way with words, knowing just what to say to make you feel little flutters in your tummy.

But if you could see what went on in Eddie’s mind you’d see how much more intense and visceral his reaction to Billy is compared to yours. He wanted to go after the bastard. He taps HIS van?! Then proceeds to flirt with the love of his life right in front of him?!

The disrespect Eddie experienced today was enough to become murderous. Steve’s expression held up no better. He was furious, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he continues on to the road.

But then you reach a hand up, rubbing his arm to comfort him. “Hey, that must’ve been so tough for you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay now. You know about how he kicked my ass because he was so obsessed about being better than me and taking my title as ‘King of Hawkins High’ whatever the hell that means?”

“Yeah, I heard about it. I was out sick that day. You know how they always say you miss out on all the drama when your absent,” You giggle. “I’m sure you held your own that day. Your pretty face is still intact.”

“You think my face is pretty?” Steve laughs.

“Yeah,” You nod. “I’d be blind if I didn’t.”

“What about me?” Eddie says, scooting up so that you can see him at your side. “I ain’t much to look at but—“

“Not much to look at? Dude…I’m always staring at you. All the time,” You admit. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes. I always tell you how jealous I am of them. You’re all so pretty. Especially the cutie in the back named Dustin.”

Dustin twiddles with his fingers bashfully. “My Suzie says I’m a 10.”

“That girl’s got taste.” You praise.

Eddie couldn’t care at all that you called Steve a pretty face. Not when you’ve just admitted that you look at him, too. Maybe not exactly how he hoped but it’s close enough.

“Sucks that Max couldn’t join us. Imagine having to spend 9 hours with Billy. Woof!” You cringe. “To think I had a crush on that guy.”

“I tried talking some sense into you.” Eddie says.

“Well, if ever you find me hanging around him—please, oh, please—take me away.”

“Gladly!” The three boys say in unison, confusion settling around.

————

After sometime, Dustin and you had fallen asleep during the car ride, leaving the men to become more acquainted with one another.

“Why are you suddenly into her? You never gave her a second glance?” Eddie inquires.

“Of course I didn’t. I hardly seen her at all. Our paths just never aligned to be around each other as much we do now. I’ve gotten to know her and now I like her.”

“What about Nancy? Thought you were trying to win her back?”

“Nancy and I have been over for so long. What about you? Don’t you have a thing for cheerleaders or something?”

“Chrissy was just a little crush. We all have ‘em. Doesn’t make us tied at the hip? But I’m wiser. I know what I want. I want Baby. It’s always been her. So, you should just forget about taking her from me? Because she’s already mine.”

“You wish. I’ll stop at nothing to make her mine.”

“Neither will I.”

“May I suggest something?” Dustin says, raising his head.

“Jesus!” Eddie jolts up. “Weren’t you asleep?”

“I usually wake up to the sound of a challenge. And it looks like you two are in need of settling this shit. But your going to compete for her heart, you’ll first have to knock out all the competition.

First contender: The Crush a.k.a. Billy Hargrove, psychotic douchebag turned ‘changed’ man.”

“Former…crush,” Eddie emphasizes. “She hates his guts now so he’s nothing to worry about.”

“Au contraire,” Dustin says. “Hargrove’s a prick but he’s got a way with words that’ll make any girl weak. Baby’s pretty strong but she’s only human. Word on the street is: never let your girl see him doing manual labor less you want to lose her forever.”

“Goddamn.” Eddie says, lost for words.

“Second contender: The Ex a.k.a. Avery Spinelli, astrology buff who has an affinity for women he believes are his soulmates. A girl could never really shake of her ex, now can she? And I hear he’s looking to ask Baby to prom and possibly to be his girlfriend again.”

“Wait, how are you knowing all of this?” Steve questions.

“I’m around a lot of girls in that club, okay?” He mutters, embarrassed. “Avery’s planning getting her to take him back with his show & tell performance. He told her it was a magic hat performance but it’s really just a promposal.”

“I knew I didn’t trust him!” Eddie shouts.

“Shhh,” Steve puts a finger to his lips, glancing for a moment to see you stir a little in your seat. “You’ll wake her. But fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy.” Eddie whisper-yells.

“Focus, amigos,” Dustin sighs. “Lastly, we have—-

“It’s Argyle isn’t it?” Eddie says. “The true himbo.”

“He’s a favorite among the ladies for sure but he’s dating Suzie’s older sister, Eden. And they’re real serious,” Dustin begins. “The Third Contender is actually The Potential a.k.a….Jonathan Byers.”

“Jonathan?!” The two men say in shock.

“Yep. According to Will and Mike, Jonathan and Nancy are on a break.”

“Holy shit.” Steve says.

“But him?” Eddie asks.

“Jonathan and (y/n) both love photography and conspiracies. Sometimes during club meeting, they’d have 1 on 1 deep conversations. Even before Jonathan and Nancy went on their break…I sensed a connection with those two. I doubt Jonathan will make any move on her, though. But from my perspective, it looks like she digs him heavily. El says she heard them talking on the phone one night.”

“Y-yeah, but Baby told me it was only because they had a school project together.” Eddie says.

“Do you know what happens when two hormonal teenagers are in close proximity?” Dustin asks rhetorically. “For all we know, they’re looking at each other in a whole new light.”

“Oh, shiiit.” Eddie groans.

“If you guys wanna get to her, you’ll have to go through them. It’s the only way,” Dustin explains. “Once their out of the way, it’ll be so much easier for her to make her decision. In fact, I’d like to add some stakes.”

“Uh-oh.” Eddie says.

“‘Uh-oh’ is right,” Dustin smiles wickedly. “Instead of confessing your feelings to her, you both should get her to confess to you first. That way for sure you’ll know who she truly has feelings for. She has to say it on her own will so you can’t ask her to say it. No sexual contact of any kind, you heathens. If either of you confess or make sexual contact before she make the move, that’s breaking the rules. And breaking the rules means punishment: a haircut!”

“Whoooa.” Steve disapproves.

“That’s just brutal.” Eddie says.

“What? You guys chicken? If you’re really that good at seducing girls, then there shouldn’t be a problem getting her to say it. Or…you can admit defeat claiming that neither of you have game.”

“Someone’s getting a little big for their britches.” Steve criticizes.

Eddie nods. “It’s his tone, right?”

“You dickheads in or not?” Dustin wages.

“I’m in.” Steve says.

“I’m in, too. This’ll be a piece of cake. Baby’s told me she liked me plenty of times before.” Eddie says, smugly.

“So do sisters to their brothers.” Steve retorts.

“Did you just brother-zoned me on her behalf?”

“It’s clear as day that it’s what she meant by it. You’d have to be brain dead to not know.”

“You’ve got some nerve…”

“Oh, I really do…”

Dustin shakes his head at the obnoxious men, placing his headphones on his head and going back to sleep.

———————

You board off the van and intake the fresh air around you. After 9 hours, you’d made it to the cabin and it was still bright out to do the planned activities of the day.

“Change of plans, everyone,” Co-Club president Ida says, standing in front of the huddled circle. “Scratch the chapel plans. My twin sis, Ava, just got off the phone with the police. Apparently, there’s a whole investigation ongoing regarding a secret fight club being held there. So instead Baby, our trip organizer, what else do you have planned for us? Hopefully, something less ‘mercury in retrograde’ kind of fuck up.”

You clenched teeth in a faux smile. “Thank you, Ida. And, no, this isn’t a fuck up yet,” You take the front. “Today, we should just relax. It’s our first day here in Point Pleasant so let’s make the most of it and enjoy the environment. I was reading the map and it looks like we’re nearby the cornfield so if we’re feeling up to it tonight, we can simply walk there. Maybe see some alien activity.”

“Hexcellent idea, Babes. I knew I was right to put you in charge,” Ava says, patting your back. “Maybe try a crystal healing bath to connect you with your guiding spirit, though. We don’t want any more bumps in the road for this trip, now do we?”

“Okay.” You try to swallow then nasty words you had to say to her.

“I’m lovin this so far,” Argyle says. “Little chillaxing here and there. Then at night, we get to hang with the aliens. I’m thinking they’ll be really vibey because they’re not held down by societal constructs like we are.”

“That’s so genius, man. How do you think of this shit?” Jonathan laughs.

“It just comes to me, bro.” Argyle says.

You take the joint from behind Argyle’s ear. “How high are you?”

“No, no. It’s ‘Hi, how are you?’, dude,” Argyle says, petting your head. “It’s okay. That one’s always a big tongue twister for me, too.”

You shake your head in bewilderment. “Let’s put our bags away so we can have some fun. I’m thinking we do show & tell in a couple hours.”

“Last one there gets the haunted bedroom.” Robin says, rushing past with her bags and Vickie follows after giggling hysterically.

The group races into the log home, claiming their bedrooms. While Eddie busies himself with unloading his duffel bag, he hears a light tap and turns to see you leaning on one side of the frame.

“Hi.” You say.

“Hey.” He says with a circling wave.

“Looks like you’ve found your room.”

“Yes, I did. But is it what I wanted? Well, that’s debatable,” He sighs. “I’m paired with your ex-boyfriend. Yeah, he’s a real hoot. He told me he knows when and how I’ll die based off of my birth chart so that’s fun.”

“Least you didn’t date him. Used to tell me he knew when I’d lose my virginity to him and somehow that line worked on me,” You laugh. “On the bright side, you don’t have a roommate like mine. Moon claims she’s a witch who died in the Salem trials and has been reborn. Which isn’t too bad until you realize that sometimes she likes the room’s temperature to be near burning hot. She says it reminds her to avenge her fallen sisters.”

“And yet I’m considered a freak?” He huffs, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Strange that the popular kids are looking to infiltrate our spaces, though? Billy…the twins running an occult club…what is happening?”

“Yeah, I know. But I guess popularity thing isn’t everything,” You sit beside him throwing your legs over his lap. “I think they’re finally starting to understand that freaks like us do whatever we like and have all the fun doing it, too.”

“What about that Steve Harrington, huh? I would have never expect him to come here. Hell, I’ve been trying to get him to go to just one hellfire campaign for literally a year now.” He laughs through his restrained anger.

“Yeah, it is a little strange,” You say in a suspicious tone. “But I’m glad he’s here. I’d like for all my friends to be here. Especially since it might be my last trip with you guys in a while.”

Every time he’s reminded of you leaving, he becomes physically ill. He pushes the inevitable away. Just a little more time.

You sit beside him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you only came because you knew it’d make me happy so again…thank you for being here.”

There’s his heart going crazy again. His palms are for sure sweaty but you don’t pull away.

“I’d do anything for you.” He says.

“Me too,” You rub a hand on his thigh. “You’re a true friend.”

His heart shatters. True Friend? No! He doesn’t want to be seen as your friend. He wants you! Why can’t you see that?!

He swallows the hard lump in his throat and whispers, “Yeah, friend.”

Your phone dings for a text message notification. Peering at the message, a cheshire grin spreads across your face.

“Oh my god! Look at this cute ass picture!” You show Eddie. It was an image of Robin, Vickie, Dustin and Max relaxing in the lake on the cutesy floaties that Vickie had brought with her for the trip. “I have to claim my floatie now.”

You stand on your feet, pulling off your tank top and Eddie’s forced out of his funk to gaze upon your beauty. You then remove your jeans, revealing your full white bikini. He shuts his parted mouth to keep from drooling and uses the little strength he has left to keep himself nailed to the bed and not pounce at you.

You were glowing. Eddie’s seen you in a bikini before but through the eyes of love had a whole new meaning. He found himself wanting to count every freckle on your body and kiss every part you felt was imperfect. If only you’d give him the chance to kiss the soft, supple skin of your thighs.

He hadn’t noticed that he’d been fiddling with the chain around his wrist, his hands mindlessly doing so to cope and hold himself down. He accidentally pulls it up and off causing it to scatter across the room.

“Oh shit. Sorry, I’ll get that.”

“No, don’t worry,” You push down on his shoulders. “I’ll get it.”

You were trying to kill him. That was it. Because you had no business, bending over in front of him the way you did to collect the wristband. Yet, here you were with your vivaciousness and plump ass that he could very well bury himself deep into and do unspeakable things to your body.

He couldn’t take it. He needed to have you. Without thinking, Eddie shoots up from the bed, striding over to you like a hungry lion on the verge of capturing his prey. But then he came along.

You straighten up, smiling at the intruder. “You’re in your trunks. Loving the chest hair. I bet the girls were all over you.”

Steve cheeks raises a shade pinker. As if the sight of you in a bikini wasn’t already overwhelming, you go and compliment him once again. “T-thanks.”

He stalks closer and instinctively you walk backwards to give him his space but he resumes forward.

“I was just telling Eddie about the float-oop!” You walk back into Eddie’s chest, laughing nervously. “When’d you get behind me?”

“Yeah, Eds. When? You weren’t thinking of doing something naughty, were you?” Steve questions, catching on to Eddie’s aroused state.

You tilt your head up and back to look at your best friend. “You were trying to come up behind me and scare me, huh?”

“Ya got me.” Eddie laughs nervously then clears his throat.

“You’re a naughty boy, indeed, Munson.” You say, poking his tummy.

Eddie’s already agitated that Steve decided to barge in but now your ex decides to enter the room as well.

“Hey, Babygirl, I was looking all over for you,” Avery says, while taking in the sight of you sandwiched between Eddie and Steve. His eyes dart between the three of you suspiciously. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Not at all,” You reply. “Was there a specific reason for why you were looking for me?”

“Yes, actually,” Avery goes to reach for something out of frame near the doorway. He pulls out a giant floatie in the style of a sunflower, putting it down in front of him. “I made sure to claim one for you because I know how much you like them. It’s even shaped like your favorite flower.”

“You remembered?” You say in surprise.

“I remember everything about you. So…you wanna go out to the lake together and try it out.”

“Oh, I was actually going to wait until Eddie’s gotten dressed first before—“

“He’ll be fine. Come on. You don’t want to miss out on the fun. Robin and Vickie’s been asking for you.” Avery eggs on.

You look over to Eddie. “You wouldn’t mind if I went down now, would you?”

“Of course not,” Eddie lies. “Go on. I’ll meet you in no time.”

You smile. “Great! See you there! Steve, ya comin’?”

“I’ll be right there. You go on for now.”

You nod then excitedly smile at Avery and he does the most fury-inducing thing in Eddie and Steve’s presence. He takes your hand. The other carries your floatie as the two of you exit the room.

“That fucker,” Steve hisses. “We have to get rid of that guy.”

“Get rid or get rid?” Eddie says emphasizing the difference in contexts. “Because at this point I’m down for whatever option.”

Steve looks at him with concern. “No more mafia movies for you.”

Dustin enters. “What are you fools doing up here? Baby’s down at the lake.”

“We’re trying to come up with a plan to get Spinelli out of the picture.” Eddie explains.

“Yeah, I seen them holding hands down there,” Dustin says while shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s looking rough for you guys.”

“You know the guy, Dustin. How do we stop him?” Steve says.

“All I know is that this dude’s very superstitious. He believes in omens and fortunes and all that make believe shit. How do we scare a guy that’s only afraid of things that don’t exist?”

A slow wicked smile dawns upon Eddie’s face. “I think my Show N’ Tell performance is going to be even more interesting than I anticipated.”

“What’s your plan?” Steve asks.

Eddie smirks, eyes playfully dark. “Don’t you worry. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

249 notes · View notes

zahri-melitor · 6 months

Note

I was discussing this with a friend of mine and I’d be interested to know your take.

We’re both big comics nerds for the batfam, and we’ve come to the consensus that even with the out of pocket moments, arcs that don’t hold up well(fugitive comes to mind), and the slew of other post crisis issues—We think the best version of the batfam would be right before Damian was introduced.

I know how this makes me sound and I’m not sorry, Tim as robin was great and I loved him as the younger brother of the fam but also not bruce’s son let them be weird friends like before identity cri-

I’m getting off topic. I apologize.

Batfam feels very bloated modern day, and I genuinely preferred when Jason was a crime lord, Dick and Tim were close tightknit brothers. Babs was oracle and Cass was batgirl. I’d want Steph to be alive and not taking cass’s job but one thing at a time. (also tim and cass are lovely as siblings/friends)

What is your ideal batfamily composition, what do you have the most fun with?

And I hope you’re doing well!

Oh here’s a dangerous question.

My favourite period of Bat comics is probably, hmmm, 1996 to 2004. Not only are there some great writers doing work during that period, the family dynamics are interesting and complex because there's fun levels of tension between various members, but also there are almost equal numbers of male and female characters and the women are allowed to be messy and complex and flawed while still heroic. You've got Bruce, Dick, Tim, Barbara, Helena, and Jean-Paul, plus Cass from 1999 onwards, with assistance from Steph, Selina and Dinah to varying degrees.

What characters and dynamics do I find the most fun? Well, I like there to be tension in the Bat family. I like every person in the group to be linked in differently, with different relationships with other members, rather than being "Bruce and his kids". There's this concept I have of what is the 'core' of the Batfam in the period between 1995 and 2009: it's not Bruce, it's actually a trio, consisting of Dick, Tim and Barbara, all of whom who have very strong ties to each other, managing and balancing the rest of the family between them.

Dick manages the broader community ties, rather than the Gotham ones. Dick's the one who all the other families know and are most likely to approach for help; he's got the respect of the Titans but also of the Justice League. Dick is basically the public relations guy standing between the Bats and everyone else.

Tim is the glue of Gotham. Tim knows everyone in Gotham and has teamed up with them at some point and knows how to convince them to come and help out, even if they aren't on good terms with the rest of the Bats, and can force people who are normally opposed to work together. Tim's the reason all the Gotham vigilantes aren't six separate bitter blood feuds or a perpetual mafia war.

Barbara is the expertise. She's not only the coordinator and planner who ensures that everything runs smoothly, who has everyone's contact details and the ability to pull in the specific assistance needed, but she also maintains contacts that still see Dick as 'Bruce's kid' with the way most of the Justice League only are familiar with her as an adult hero. She's got the best JSA contacts via Dinah. She can stand up to Bruce and tell him to back down and pull his head in in a way the other two cannot. And she's the only one of the three who has a proper working relationship with Jean-Paul Valley.

The changes in the Batfamily dynamics by firstly removing Barbara from Gotham, and then adding Jason and especially Damian, forced the shape of the dynamics to centre themselves around "Bruce and his sons" and "everyone else", rather than being a spread network that converged on a trio.

My ideal Batfamily? It's Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Tim, Cass and Damian. While I think that Damian is part of a very clear change of direction in storytelling, I think there are worthwhile stories to tell about his dynamics with the others listed here, and on balance he allows for new directions of storytelling.

(Yes, there's an obvious name missing there. It's deliberate. I remain unconvinced that having Jason around as 'family' is a better use of his character than as a ghost haunting the narrative or, if he must be alive, as an extremely irritating villain)

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marylynbirds · 9 months

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Things I do that are (probably) related to my autism

I was diagnosed 1,5 years ago as a young adult so idk I've been thinking about this a lot lately and wanted to share. These are things that I do because of or to help with my autism (I kept it neutral/positive!).

- having a favourite spot in the bus..

- aaand having several back up spots in case somebody else is sitting there.

- buying putty (it's kinda like clay) to fidget with. (I have a small one from crazy Aaron's thinking putty, it fits in my pockets so is easy to take with me)

- making weird body movements when I'm happy (flapping my arms, moving from side to side doing little dances)

- when I was at my parents last time I wanted to put my face against his soft fur. He's a bit of a nervous cat so for his sake I didn't.

- bought a new planner that's focused on keeping a balance between work/school, private live and potential side hustles. (it's kinda like a bullet journal without having to draw everything yourself)

- my wireless headphones are the best! (no wire that keeps getting stuck, better quality than my earbuds and the sound can be very quiet and it still cancels out a lot of noice)

- bringing earplugs to places when I can't or don't want to wear my headphones (I have Loops Quiet, thinking about getting the Engage ones as well)

- bought a 1 liter waterbottle with timestamps on it so I remember to drink water.

- I pay a lot of attention to detail, especially when it comes to essays, my studymates/friends know this and ask me for help. I like helping them get a better grade and learn. (I'm studying to be a teacher for a reason xD)

- taking a bus/train earlier so I not stressed about delays

This is all I can think of from the top of my head. Let me know if you can relate! Are there any other things you do bc of your (suspected) autism (self diagnosis is valid)?

#asd #neurodivergent #autistic #autism #actually autistic #autistic things #autistic adult

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rebouks · 1 year

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Hello! Do you have any suggestion for someone who wants to start storytelling on simblr? Thank you <3

Hiii nonny! I'm a lil honoured you'd ask me this ngl 😳 Have some rambling advice ❤ (using the word advice lightly here - please believe me when I say I'm winging it)

General writing advice:

DO THE THING! Seriously, just start!

Tell your story because you enjoy it. If you're not enjoying it, think about why n' switch it up.

Try and avoid comparing yourself to others. Easier said than done, but it'll only lead to self doubt and demotivation, so quit it!

Personally, I'm not a planner.. but it can be useful to have something set out to begin with, even if it's as simple as an idea or a basic beginning/middle/end kinda deal.

Any writing advice you come across out there is simply that, advice. Take it with a grain of salt and just do you.

Give your characters depth. No one's perfect, and we're certainly not black and white. We all make questionable decisions sometimes, but we're not defined by singular actions. A villain and a hero are equally boring without a decent backstory. Maybe it's not your thing, or it's boring.. but digging into psychology can really help with this one. I kinda find it interesting anyway ¯\(°_o)/¯

Regarding the above and backstories, don't bore everyone by spelling it out at the beginning.. we probably don't need to know. Drip feed us it bit by bit so we can figure out the why and the how behind every character slowly, it's way more interesting and engaging. No one needs to know all the facts from the get go.

Think about the why behind everything. Say someone steals some money, why did they do it? Did they have no choice? Was it to feed their family, or their drug habit? How does that make them feel? Were they bullied or forced into doing it? Did they do it for the thrill, if so.. why do they need that rush? So and so hates the snow, why? Do they just prefer warm weather? Does it make it harder for them to do what they enjoy? A bad experience? Why why why, all the time!

This one's gonna sound a bit weird, but bare with me here. Try and think in terms of but and consequently, instead of and then. For example.. X happens, consequently Y happens. Or your character was gonna do X but Y happened so consequently they've gotta do Z instead. It makes for a more interesting set up rather than a bunch of scenes with little correlation. A happens and then B and then C etc etc.. boring! Consequences have actions!

Similarly to the above, don't rush! Sometimes X and Y have to happen before we get to Z. Take romance for example, we all love a good slow burn. Those big pay off scenes are worth a little patience.

If you're having trouble piecing things together, try and keep the above two points in mind. If you need to get to Z but don't know how, just think about what has to happen before you can get there.. aka X/Y. I do this one all the time because I don't plan much.. so I'll get an idea but I'll have to piece together a bunch of other shit happening in the background first before it makes sense to end up there, y'know?

Split your story up into chapters/arcs, especially if it's a big 'un! It'll make it easier to plan/manage.

Don't worry about plot holes too much. Planning can help you avoid 'em but meh, you can always figure out a way to explain or cover 'em up later.

General Tumblr advice:

Okay, so first things first (I know, I know.. it's been said a million times and it's bleh but) you've gotta do it for you. Make a story YOU want to tell in YOUR way. Screenies and dialogue, sure! No dialogue? Sure! A few screenies and a bunch of prose underneath, sure! Comic/manga style? SURE! Do whatever you want, it's your hobby. It's SO important that you're enjoying yourself, whatever you decide to do.

DO THE THING! (again ahaa) Try not to hesitate or worry about what people may or may not think. I know it's hard putting your shit out there and you might be insecure, but take the leap! It'll be worth it.

If you want engagement (ew - I hate this word lmaoo but this is social media after all) you've gotta give what you take. Other people enjoy you interacting with their stories and characters just as much as you do.

Notes matter.. we wouldn't be putting our shit out here if they didn't, but try not too get to hung up on them, especially not at first. You might be shouting into the void for a while; it can take time for people to find your stuff (that's where the above comes in ⚆_⚆) Also take quality over quantity, it's always nice to have a few avid readers/commenters/mutuals.. and they will come!

Have fun and be awesome!

#ranswers #whew that turned into an essay LOL #writing advice #?#I GUESS #ahaha #pls.. we're winging it here believe me

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meowmeow-motherfucker · 1 month

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death binder?? well now im curious

Aaaahh I'm so excited someone asked!

It's exactly what it says on the tin- a guide for my friends and family that I leave behind when I kick it. The binder contains instructions for what to do with my body (I'm going to a body farm), what kind of service I want, music, etc. It also includes plans for the execution of my estate- adoption plans for my cats, which of my things will be sold/donated/bequeathed and where my money will be donated.

I'm only 34 so people think I'm weird for having this, but I assist with autopsies and one thing I take away from every one is you never know when death is coming for you. So many families are left scrambling to come up with plans, funds, etc and it makes a terrible situation that much harder. You can get death planners from Amazon for like $20.

Now because I'm also a fan of true crime, my death binder also has an 'In Case I go Missing' section with a list of friends and associates and places I frequently visit as well as a set of my fingerprints and health info that might be useful.

Planning for one's death isn't great, but it is helpful to plan it while you're of sound mind so your body is treated with the care you want.

Hope that helps! Happy planning!

#meowmeow writes #asks

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luveline · 2 years

Text

a special friend, part nine | fred weasley x reader

summary you buy Fred too many biscuits, tell him some uncomfortable truths, and try to make sense of how much you love him [8k]

warmings fluff, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, self-harm is talked about in depth but there is no graphic description of the act itself, body image, talk of sex but nothing graphic, she/her pronouns used for reader, fem reader

chapter list here

"You don't have to do those," Fred says from the table, a biro in hand.

You take the washing up liquid into your hands and pour it onto the rough green scrub of a sponge, stomach pressing into the lip of the countertop. "It's okay."

"I'll do them after I finish this," he says anyway.

"Please let me do them."

Fred bites the end of his pen – which you've warned him against doing, lest it explode in his mouth – and raises his eyebrows without looking up. You take that for a go ahead.

The water is blisteringly hot. You pull down the shutter on the boiler next to the sink and set the heat lower though it won't make much difference now.

Your hands start to sting, but it's a sting you like. It's familiar. It hurts.

Fred hums under his breath at the table. He's a diligent book keeper. You're too stupid for it, and he'd never let you anyways. You're surprised he's let you do the dishes, hadn't said, Ghost, no. Go watch your show.

He goes through phases. Sometimes, it's as though he doesn't want you to do anything at all. It gets to the point where every time you shower he's offering to wash your hair.

When you'd asked George about it, he'd only said, "He loves you."

"I know that."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you."

What did you want George to tell you? Maybe that it's something every boy does.

But no, you don't think so. You're just lucky.

Eventually Fred seems to realise what he's doing and gives it a rest. Like now, a few days ago he might've taken the sponge from your hand, kissed your head and bumped your hip to get you to go sit down. But you're very much in the after of his over-caring, so he doesn't protest.

Plus, when you say please, Fred's always been a total goner. That hasn't changed.

"Are you-" You cringe as a plate clinks against another cruelly. "Are you getting on okay with the pens?" you ask, looking over your shoulder.

Fred grins at you. "What do you think it says about wizards that we have to refill our quill nibs every ten seconds? All that mess and time wasted when muggles were using these ten years ago."

"I think…" You set the last dish on the drying rack. "It says we're misguided. Like a self-inking quill," you say slowly.

Your thoughts have felt thick as molasses all day, and you turn back to the sink to try and finish the dishes and feel abruptly weird. Not upset, but a sinking feeling.

"Like a self-inking quill," you repeat, hoping to catch the thread.

"We invented a charm before we even thought about something as simple and convenient as a pen," Fred says, saving you.

"Yeah, exactly." He always knows what you're trying to say.

You shut off the tap and watch the water drain down the sink. Your hands are wet and very warm against the countertops edge.

"Come and sit with me," Fred says lightly.

You blink hard, wipe your face with your wet hands and exhale.

"Are you-"

"I think I want something else to eat," you say.

Fred is quiet. You turn to him and he's smiling at you, pen flat on the table. "Yeah? Dessert?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright." He sounds legitimately excited.

Fred gathers his papers and slides them between the leaves of his fancy leather planner before standing and meeting you in the middle of the kitchen. His hand reaches for you unconsciously, squeezing your shoulder and encouraging you toward the cupboard.

"What do you fancy?" he asks, opening the cupboard. It's not bare but certainly not full.

Your options are pretty lackluster. He has tins of sweetened fruit, condensed milk, rice pudding. He even has a tin of tapioca, but none of it looks very exciting.

"Do you even like tapioca?" you ask.

"No, I don't." He hums unhappily. "I'm embarrassed."

"We could go to the shop."

"At this time? Would anything be open?"

"Tesco's."

He looks down at you with obvious fondness. "Tesco. What is that, a type of dog?"

You leave to search his bedroom for something to wear that isn't your pajama bottoms. "Freddie," you murmur, picking through the clothes you keep at the bottom of his cupboard, "have you seen my skirt? The paisley one?"

"Is it the purple one?"

"Yeah. Like a red-purple."

He disappears and returns with an armful of clothes from the radiator, dumping it unceremoniously on the end of the and pulling out your skirt with a triumphant smile. "Here. I like this one. I remember the first time you wore it."

"You do?"

"Yeah, of course I do. You don't?"

You nibble the inside of your lip and sit down on the bed to pull on a pair of tights. Fred's gaze wanders to your thigh. You watch his expression change from happy to nothing to happy again.

You stand up to put on your skirt. "No, I can't remember," you say apologetically.

"The first time we kissed, you were wearing that skirt."

That seems as appropriate a time you're going to get to ask for a kiss. You sidle up to him and he looks down at you knowingly, reaching out for your shoulders. Long, kind hands fit over the slopes of them.

"You know you… you really confused me," you tell him.

He throws his arms completely over your shoulders and pulls your chest to his. "When?"

"That day. Our first day."

His lips quirk up into a cheeky smile. "Right." He leans down for a short kiss, perfectly chaste. "How did I confuse you? I promise I didn't mean to," he says softly.

"You- you said our relationship wouldn't be-"

"Appropriate," he says, again so softly. His smile is sympathetic. "Yeah, I remember. I remember. God, I'm sorry. It was a bad attempt at flirting."

"It worked."

"I wanted to follow you as soon as I said it, but you didn't seem like you cared. When I did follow you I was worried I got all the signs wrong, I could barely speak."

He's relaxed despite the anxiety of the situation he recalls – it had been the most heart-racing half-hour of your life. You would love to think he'd felt the same. But now there's the vast proof of your affection for each other. All that hesitation is funny to look back on.

"Why were you worried, Freddie? I mean," you giggle self-consciously, "I was obvious, wasn't I?"

"No you were not."

You wait for him to expand, confused.

"You were especially hard to read. You're still hard to read now, only I've gotten better at it. Or that's what I'd like to think."

"Oh."

Fred cups your cheek. "You think you're obvious?"

"I thought so. I thought you could tell that I liked you."

He holds your head in place and kisses the opposite cheek, a perfect press of his lips.

He rubs your cheek and then moves away to pull on one of his mum-made jumpers, offering you your cardigan.

"I couldn't tell. I mean, we'd been friends for so long at that point I assumed all your affection was just friendly, and you kept surprising me." He smiles like this is the best thing in the world, that being surprised might mean the same thing as winning the lottery. "You looked lovely. You knew you looked lovely."

You try not to feel embarrassed. Taking pride in your appearance is still new, and it feels like something you shouldn't do. Like you're not allowed.

"You're pretty," he says simply. "And when you know it, you get this glow."

"I do not."

"You do!"

"Like a pregnant woman?"

He laughs. You push your slippery feet into your shoes. "No, dummy. Not like a pregnant woman. Are you ready?"

"Do you know where the Tesco's is?" you ask curiously, taking his outstretched hand. He squeezes your fingers. His touch keeps the creeping anxious nausea of side-along disapparation at bay.

"I was just gonna go to the town centre, by the charity shop. Where you bought that nice dress."

"You bought the dress. I only wore it."

He smiles. "You okay?"

You nod and squeeze his fingers in turn.

Suddenly you're slammed between places, knees buckling as your feet slide from the worn light wood of the Weasley flat and onto the uneven tar of an alleyway. It's bitingly cold and the alley is dark, streetlight leeching toward you both but not quite reaching.

Fred checks you over silently.

"It's cold," he complains immediately afterward, pulling you down the alley and onto the main street.

It's as blinding as it always is. You let him steer you down the pavement, through couples and commuters. You almost bump head on with a girl wearing big huge headphones that you've never seen in person before, and you can't help following her with your eyes.

"Tesco is the blue one?" Fred asks.

"It's a small one here. By the pharmacy."

"Where was that?"

It takes you an abundance of long cold minutes to locate the shop you're looking for, and when you do Fred marches you inside. You stand just past the automatic doors and he steals your hands to rub between his own, fretting about how chilly it is today and how neither of you had worn a coat, and maybe he can buy you one.

"I don't need a new coat. Can we go look at the fruit?"

It's impossible to find. You walk down skinny aisles of tinned foods, cold drinks, crisps.

Fred grabs the end of your cardigan and anchors you to him. "Hey, biscuits."

There's a lot of biscuits.

"What ones should we get?"

You move next to him until your thighs are touching, to his evident delight. He throws an arm over your shoulder and gives you another nice kiss on your cheek. "How about we get all of them?"

"We can't get all of them."

"How about just all the ones we like?" he asks hopefully.

You think about your purse in your pocket, how you never spend money on yourself. If Fred wants biscuits, he should have as many as he wants.

You lift your head toward his and grin. "Yeah, okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah," you laugh, "go get a basket, loverboy."

His turn to laugh. His hand drags over your shoulders as he pulls away, and you stand alone in the aisle and wait for him to come back. There's so many biscuits. Cookies with white chocolate chips and dried raspberries, hobnobs with caramel centres, jammy dodgers, jaffa cakes, Welsh shortbreads. There's classic digestives, rich teas and even the fancier Border's biscuits, the ones you only see at Christmas time.

"Hey gorgeous," Fred calls as he returns.

"Hey," you say gently.

"Did you choose any?"

You only hesitate for a moment before picking up the Border's and placing them delicately in the basket. Fred beams but doesn't comment. You refuse to think about anything as you pick up the shortbread, plain and chocolate chip.

"Nice," he says. Fred picks up the jaffa cakes with an assessing eye.

"You've never seen them before?"

"Don't think so. Do you like them?"

You shrug. No matter your answer, you don't want to discourage him from trying them. "They have orange jam in the middle. You'll like them."

He nods and puts them in the basket. He goes to keep you moving and you plant yourself.

"Fred, you gotta pick some more."

"I like what we have."

"Fred-"

"I'm gonna buy you your weight in chocolate, ghost. We have enough biscuits."

You don't let him buy as much chocolate as he'd promised. He picks out a tray of truffles. You kneel down and search through the children's sweeties and find a bag of white chocolate buttons covered in sprinkles.

"Freddie," you say, thrilled, "have you had these before?"

He bends down to meet you. You must look strange, two grown adults crouched in the middle of the shop, but neither of you has the wherewithal to care. It's often like this with him. You exist in your own world.

"Don't think so," he says, taking them with his usual gentleness and dropping them onto your growing pile of treats.

"I used to love them."

"I bet they're amazing," he says earnestly. "These sweets are all literally covered in sugar. Sugar's supposed to go inside them, not on them."

You select some of the aforementioned sugar covered sweets and drop them in. "They're sour."

"Me and George gave Ron an Hour Sour once that we'd charmed to last three days."

You gawp at him.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Did he-"

"Cry? For most of the second day."

You're suddenly seeing him in a new light. "That's awful."

"We felt really bad. Genuinely."

He helps you back up to your feet.

"Did you lay off him for a while?"

"A whole week."

"Awful! That's awful. You're such bullies."

There's not a trace of genuineness in what you're saying. Fred is the nicest person you've ever met in your entire life, and George is the second.

"I know," he murmurs, eyes on the label of a whistle lolly. "How's it a whistle?"

"It just is."

He's stricken. "But how?"

"You'll have to find out." You chuck two in the basket.

"We need to find your fruit. And a real dessert."

Fruits are found. Desserts contemplated. You end up with a tub of neapolitan ice cream and a cake to heat up in the oven.

You slide the basket off of Fred's arm and pretend to look very cold. There's no way a shop this small will have clothes, but Fred has no way of knowing that.

"Do you…" You put on your best act. If you just all out asked for something Fred would never believe you. "Do you think they have coats here?"

"Let's go look," he says quickly, nodding his head to the side.

You part your lips as if thinking about it and then shake your head. "My legs are tired. We should go home."

Conflicted, he calculates his options and then picks the one you'd known he would, the chivalrous, much too thoughtful one.

"I'll find you something. You can wait here, alright?"

He leaves, his smile charged with promise. As soon as he's disappeared in the direction of the cleaning and bathroom supplies you turn to the tills and pay for all your stuff. There's so many things that you need two bags.

Fred appears a little while later, at first apologetic and then unhappy.

"Did you just pay for that?"

"I didn't steal it," you say wryly.

He wrangles the bags out of your unwilling hands and sighs. "They didn't have any jackets, sweetheart, I'm sorry. You can have my jumper."

"I'm not really cold. Sorry."

He squints. You squint back.

"You sneak," he says finally.

You spin on your heel so you're walking backwards and he follows you out of the shop. "Good trick, right?"

"Good trick," he agrees.

You laugh. It feels good in the cold air, with him, to let your head dip back just a touch and look up at the sky. There's too much light pollution to see any stars, but the sky is pitch black. You could fall into it.

George Weasley bursts into his brother's bedroom and launches himself on top of him.

Fred seizes up and forces his face further into his pillow. "Ow, ghost."

"In what world would Y/N ever do anything like this?"

Fred frowns with his eyes closed, grows incredibly still and then turns his body onto the side. George slides off of the bed and onto the floor with a terrible thump.

"You fucking prick."

"Shut up."

George pouts on the ground for a moment before rising into a sitting position. Directly in his eyeline is a photograph of said ghost, smiling and posing with more life than George has ever seen you display in front of a camera.

"Where is ghostie?"

"She's went home."

"She lives here."

"She does not live here," Fred grumbles unhappily.

"Oh, sorry. I just thought, from the state she left the living room in last night that she was paying rent."

"Fuck off," Fred says with no heat. "Be nice. It was mostly me."

"Where was my invite?"

"I was hoping something would transpire that you'd rather not be involved in." Fred doesn't sound bitter. He sounds strangely upset.

George tilts his head to the side. "Disgusting. Still should've invited me."

"There's cake left."

George stands and leaves for the kitchen. He eats the leftover cake cold, a winner's breakfast if he does say so himself, and pops the kettle on. His twin soon emerges, unhappy and still obviously tired.

"Your hair's too long," George says.

"She likes it like this."

George licks his fingers clean of icing and opens the cupboard for two mugs. "Ghost would like you bald, I think. Love makes you blind. And plain stupid."

"Angelina wouldn't like you bald."

"Angelina has self-preservation. Is tea okay or are you dying?"

Fred waves his hand. "Anything. Whatever you're having."

Quite right. George makes two identical cups of tea and plants them on the kitchen table. He offers Fred a small spoon to fish out the tea bag and retrieves the milk from the fridge.

"Why did she go home?"

"She can't always stay here. It's not healthy."

"Sure it is. Married people sleep together every single day."

Fred drinks his tea, winces at how hot it is and then sets it down. "There's loads of biscuits in the cupboard."

George raises his eyebrows and goes to look. "Oh, yes. This is more like it. More obscene spoiling?"

"Y/N spoiling me."

"No way! She never buys me anything."

George tips enough biscuits for a family five onto a plate and places them grandly at the table. He must've eaten half in the time it takes Fred to wake up, and when he does he doesn't seem happy.

"Listen," George says slowly, "if there's something you wanna talk about, I'll try not to laugh. Swears."

"How generous of you."

George knows what's wrong, he just doesn't want to say it out loud.

"Does it happen with you and Angelina? Um. Dry spells?" Fred asks eventually.

"All the time. Girls are different, mate. They're not always on."

"What if she thinks I'm ugly?"

"I've always been the more handsome of us."

They both laugh at their joking.

Fred eats a biscuit forlornly. "I read this thing," he says slowly.

"Now why would you do that?" George asks. He means it. He's told Fred a hundred times to ignore all the magazine's and muggle health journals.

"About low moods. Affecting your sex drive."

George wrinkles his nose.

"She's never… we've never not been on the same page about it. And I know if she's upset about something she won't tell me, so I thought maybe she's upset and not telling me and that's why she doesn't want to-" He shrugs rather than say it. George is grateful. He doesn't ever want to hear about his brothers sex life.

"You were having your honeymoon phase," he says simply. It makes sense. Eventually, the newness wears away, though the fondness remains.

Fred drops his face into his hand. "I was worried you'd say that."

"Don't make me spell it out for you, Forge. I really don't want to. It feels like talking about Ginny's sex life with Harry."

"You talk about-"

"No."

"I think maybe I'm being very narcissistic."

"You definitely are."

Fred rubs his eyes with both hands. "She's getting into her head again."

This catches George's attention. Perhaps he doesn't always know what Fred's thinking. He puts his tea down heavily and asks, "What?"

"I'm worried she'll start all the picking and things." Things is a very nice way to say that you'd been hurting yourself. George doesn't blame him for avoiding the specifics. It's never a nice thing to say out loud.

He breaks a biscuit in half, dropping half in his mug and half in Fred's to soften. "Are you alright?"

Fred scrunches up his face. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"What?"

"Fred."

They stare at each other. Fred looks very stressed. George hates it.

"Ghost isn't going to start hurting herself again. I don't know why you're thinking about it, but that's not happening," George says, sympathetic but firm. "It's been a while since she did. It's been almost as long since she wanted to. She told you last time, yeah?"

And you had. It had been a bit of a shock to George when he'd heard it, though it was his own fault for eavesdropping. Fred had been stationed at the front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes peddling the last of the Peruvian darkness powder and George had been a ways away feeding the pygmy puffs.

You'd been taking it easy behind the counter top at the back. Quiet for a few days, nothing they hadn't been through with you before, your mood wavering. Your footsteps had been close to silent as you'd made your way to the front and stopped at Fred's side. There had been silence for a while, and then he'd seemingly noticed you and said, "Hey. What's the matter?"

George had glanced up. You'd looked impassive in the face but frenetic in the hands, your fingers curling and unfurling around nothing.

"Freddie," you'd said, very softly.

George had wanted to wrap you up in a hug then and there but Fred's more of a problem solver, though he'd softened to match you considerably quickly.

"What?" he'd asked.

You'd thrust your hands towards him and he'd taken them delicately.

After a while, you'd said, "I don't feel very well."

"Yeah? What's the matter?"

"I think I want to-" You'd looked down at the floor. "I think I might do something stupid."

"Okay," Fred had said. "Okay. Why don't we go upstairs and I'll make you some tea? We'll talk about it."

"Right," Fred says now. "It's been a while, but that doesn't mean she'll never do it again."

"If she does or she doesn't, it's okay. We can deal with it. I know it fucking sucks, Freddie, but she'll be fine. She always is."

They must have had a hundred conversations about you by now. Not always serious, and never in anything but a loving light. George thinks back to your time at school together when conversations about you had been often, and then your time at school without them, where Fred had talked about you more than anything else.

"Are you okay?"

Fred bites his lip. "Or course I am."

"It's a lot to worry about."

"This is really awkward."

"Since when? We talk about everything."

"Not my feelings."

"Shut up," George says, standing up to ruffle Fred's awfully long hair. "Seriously. I would do anything for Y/N, but I would do double for you. You have to tell me if you can't handle it."

That pisses Fred off to no end. He's defensive instantly. "She's not something to be handled."

George glares at him. "Did I say her? It. If you can't handle it." He hadn't meant you. You're not a problem to be handled. You're a person, and the things that hurt you tend to hurt his brother too. George just wants to support him, and you, through the worst of it when he's needed.

Fred stands up to join him at the sink. "Why did you put a biscuit in my tea?" he mutters crossly.

"Hardly the worst I could've done."

"Pathetic excuse for a prank. We need to get back into practice."

"It wasn't a prank, Fred," George says, chuckling. "I thought you were going to eat it."

"I didn't notice you put it in to eat it."

George shrugs. "Shows how perceptive you are. Ghost is fine. You're fine?" When Fred nods, he continues, "You're fine. I'm great, I'm moving out."

Fred takes a long time to catch on. "You're what?"

You sleep in on Monday and have a heart attack when you wake.

It's already nine in the morning. You should've been at the shop hours ago, and Fred's gonna have to open by himself because George-

George is at Angelina's, because it's a national holiday.

You relax and drop back into the sheets. Your bed has never been as comfortable as Fred's, though maybe that's the lack of him rather than any mattress differences. You turn onto your side and smile at the picture of him on your nightstand. He moves, a darling smile stretching over his face and his hand twitching out toward you. He looks about as in love with you as you are with him.

You kiss your fingertip and press it to his face.

You miss him. It's only been two days. It feels like two weeks.

Lately, you've been rejecting Fred's advances. Kisses end at kisses, cuddles stay cuddles. He hasn't said anything about it and neither have you. It's hard to explain. You've felt very heavy on the inside, and so you feel disgusting on the outside. Your sense of self is precarious at best and troublesome at worst: it can't withstand how you feel.

But. You love him. He's very handsome, and he's very nice in bed.

You miss being close to him like that.

With a plan, you shower and scrub down every inch of your body, cover yourself in nice smelling moisturisers and oils until your skin is soft to touch, and dab some concealer over the slight bags under your eyes and the worst of your scars.

You know Fred looks at them, sometimes.

You wear a sweet blue dress that you know he likes and pull on a thick pair of wool tights, and then you apparate into the flat.

There's no point bothering with shoes. You won't need them.

"Freddie?" you say.

Nothing. There's no washing machine whirring, no TV humming sound. Not even the faint gurgling of the boiler. The flat is appropriately cold.

You stop at the thermostat on the way to his bedroom and turn it all the way up. Your feet slide over the chilled slats of the wooden floor and you almost slip outside of his room, giggling to yourself as you push open his bedroom door.

He's asleep on his stomach.

Selfishly, you'd like to wake him up. You crave his compliments, his affection worse, but he looks really lovely like this. You do as you'd done what feels like a hundred years ago now and climb over his hips, cautious not to rouse him, and settle in the space between his sleeping body and the wall on knees.

You drop your hand onto his back. The quilt has fallen to below his shoulders. He's shirtless, the pale stretch of his upper back adorned in dark freckles and fine blonde hairs.

He's warm. You steal as much of his warmth as you can, leaning down to kiss his freckles, the scarcest brush of your lips across his shoulders, and stroke the hair away from his neck as you do. You follow a path up and around to just under his ear.

He comes to life like a flower blooming at day break. His limbs loosen and stretch outward. You massage his shoulder where it rises under your hand.

"Y/N?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, it's me."

Impossibly, this puts him further at ease.

You rub your nose against his neck. His breath catches and you laugh at the sound. "I missed you," you confess.

This garners his attention properly.

He pushes himself up. "Baby," he says, blinking at you. "You look pretty."

It's exactly what you'd wanted him to say and you'd been hoping he'd say it, but his praise still shocks you into silence. He says it so genuinely.

You're about to thank him when he continues, "You're lovely. Look at you," he says. Even tired – rough and croaky with sleep – his voice drips affection.

You place your hands in your lap and bite back what's likely the most lovesick smile any girl has ever smiled. "Thank you."

He leans over to take your hands. "You're beautiful. I promise I'm gonna kiss you like I mean it, just let me brush my teeth."

You nod excitedly.

He stands, wobbles, laughs at himself and carries on out of the bedroom and away to the bathroom.

You call after him, "What happened?"

"Got up too quickly. Sweetheart, it's not our anniversary, is it?"

You laugh and lay down in the warm space he'd left behind. "What do you mean?" you ask, heartbroken. "You forgot?"

"Funny."

He laughs. You consider taking off your tights and then decide that's definitely too forward. There's no real signs that he actually wants to mess around just yet, and it is rather early.

He appears suddenly and smelling of mint, face shining with dampness. "Yeah, that's exactly where I want you. Stay there."

You stay.

Fred shrugs into a new t-shirt (slightly disappointing, but you're sure you can persuade him out of it in time) and then makes his way to you, pressing his knee between your legs. He's less careful than he could be as he lowers his weight onto you completely.

You huff and giggle at the newfound pressure.

He takes the time to get comfortable, legs between your legs. You're conscious of every contiguity you share as his elbow digs into the space between your upper arm and your chest and his hand drops to your face. He looks much more awake now, brown eyes wide and trained down on you, unflinching.

His hand falls to your cheek. He has really nice hands, sharp-boned knuckles and trimmed neat nails. The bottom of his palm and the tips of his fingers warm your skin.

"I can't believe how pretty you are." He ducks down and kisses you. You aren't expecting it and you don't have time to respond as he pulls back and says, "I love you."

Your chest feels fit to burst. "I love you too."

"I know," he says, almost whispers. He takes another unsuspecting kiss. "But I love you more."

"Stop moving when I try to kiss back," you complain.

He steals another kiss to spite you.

You look up at him and he looks down at you. His fingers ghost down the side of your face lightly.

"I love you more," you argue quietly.

"That could never be true."

"You wouldn't think so."

He marks a line of three quick kisses from the corner of your mouth to the space under your jaw where he stays, arms needling under your neck in a sudden, sweet hug.

He drops his face beside yours and holds you.

"I missed you. Was everything okay?"

"Yeah. It was fine. We just watched movies and stuff."

He hums. "Did you have a good time?"

"I missed you, but I did."

"And you're feeling good today?"

You don't want him to worry that much about you. "Yeah. Feeling great, handsome. Just missed you." You turn your face to his. "Missed you," you murmur.

You breathe one another in for a stretch of time, eyes shuttered closed.

"I'm gonna fall asleep on you, you're so comfortable," Fred says.

You tighten your arms where you've wrapped them around his waist. "That's okay."

Another gap of loving quietude.

"Ghost, can I ask you something?"

Your heart stutters. "Yeah, ask me anything."

He nods and his nose whispers against your cheek.

The distinct smell of toothpaste lingers between you. You open your eyes and find it, the tiniest hint of white at the corner of his mouth. It's a struggle but you manage to pull your arm between your two bodies and wipe it away.

"Toothpaste," you explain.

"Thank you… Baby, are you happy?"

"Of course I'm happy. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

His smile squints his eyes. "But are you happy? Are you having a bad time again?"

"No, Fred, I'm-"

"It's okay if you are. It's okay. I just need to know. I need you to tell me."

"I'm fine, baby," you say, pleading. You clear your throat. "I'm fine."

He rolls his weight off of you. You worry he's annoyed, that he's seen straight through you and knows you're a liar.

Fred doesn't look mad. There's only patience.

"I want to know how you're feeling," he says, each word as careful and tedious as a string of silk. "Because I want to be with you while you're feeling it. I think about you being sad by yourself and it kills me. You know?"

"Yeah, I do," you murmur.

He casts his eyes away from the ceiling and back to your worried face.

"I haven't been feeling very well," you admit. If it's this important to him to know, then you'll try to be as honest as you can be.

You turn onto your side and he mirrors you, two halves of the same heart, a mess of rumpled sheets between you, and reach out to stroke down the length of his cheek. He doesn't seem surprised by your admission.

"I've wanted to hurt myself a lot lately," you continue. You can barely force the words out, your mouth suddenly dry as a cotton ball.

"Why won't you tell me?" he asks. There's a real heartbreak there, laid underneath his dulcet, comforting tenor. "I don't want you to think about that by yourself."

"If I was really going to do something, I would tell you. I swear, Freddie. But I'm not." You think about the kind of honesty he's asking you for. "I don't think I will," you add, uncertain.

His eyes flit to your chest. He's not really looking at you so much as looking through you, thinking.

He smooths down the skirt of your dress absent-mindedly. "I'd like to know if you're thinking about it."

"Do you get why that would be hard for me?"

Fred looks at you properly.

"I feel like- like such an attention seeker as it is," you say with an edge of bitterness.

"You're not."

"But that's what it does. It forces you to watch me, and look after me, and worry about me."

"It doesn't, ghost. I've never been forced to do any of those things. I love you." He takes your hand with purpose.

"I know. Do you know what I mean?" You're begging him internally to understand.

Your whole life you've found ways to hurt yourself. Your whole life you've been looked down on for it. You hate that people think they know why you do it, that they could understand it from just one look, and that they think their attention of all things would make a difference.

"You're not an attention seeker." A crease appears between his brows.

"What if I am?" you ask, and hide your face in his pillow. What if you've gotten so good at rationalising it that you're lying to yourself?

"I don't believe that for a second," Fred says. He tugs your body towards his, arms curling around you in a steadying hug.

He peppers kisses across your forehead and then dips his nose against the skin by your hairline, murmuring, "Ghost, why'd you have to punish yourself for everything? Even the things you haven't done? Hurting yourself– I don't understand it. I don't, and I'm not sure I will, but I understand you." He kisses your head again. "I would never hold it against you. I would never think it was for attention, and if it was I wouldn't care.

"I'm asking you to tell me because I want to hold your hand through it, that's all."

"What if it's too much?" You're starting to feel a little bit numb.

"It won't be. You've never been too much."

You flatten your hand over his chest and breathe until your heart has stopped pounding. It takes a while. Fred hugs you all the way through it.

"I came here trying to seduce you," you say finally, laughing in hopes to soften the serious mood.

"It's insulting to me that you think I don't know that," Fred says, smirking. "I know your charms, lovely girl. Give me another kiss."

You lift your chin, lips tickled by his hot breath. He kisses you slowly, so slowly, hand spreading over your shoulder and pulling you tighter against him. Your lips are burning by the time he encourages them apart.

You sigh into him. Everything feels better, even if it isn't fixed. He's a surefire balm over all your aching.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently.

"I'll tell you," you say, too shy to look at him. If I'm feeling awful.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He tries to kiss you some more but the guilt fizzes and you dodge him, pressing your lips to his cupid's bow.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop it," he says with a quiet fierceness. "I don't need that."

He kisses you. You love to be kissed. You let him touch you and steady you, let the unyielding wave of his fondness for you wash over your worrying. Hurting yourself – and the want to hurt yourself – can take up a lot of your life, and it can feel all encompassing, but it isn't.

It can be really, really small. The life you've made, and the person you share it with, has made it smaller. Made it a detail. Like a crop of freckles, like a smattering of heavy-handed but undoubtedly healed scars across your outer thigh. They're there forever, but they're hardly the most important thing about you.

It hits you like a freight train.

You push Fred back very gently and sit over him. It's probably not your best angle but you don't care, taking his face into both of your hands. His cheeks are warm to the touch. His brown edging of lashes flutter as his eyes flick between your mouth and your own eyes, indecisive, curious.

"I wish I could tell you," you say, thumbs brushing under the soft semi-circles of his under eye, "how I felt about you."

He smiles in confusion. "Sweetheart, you tell me all the time."

"'I love you' doesn't really cover it."

He brings his own hands up to cradle your face. You laugh at him and squeeze his cheeks, the mess of your arms tangled and too close as he pulls you down, down.

"I get it. Sometimes I look at you and I can't speak."

"You've mentioned that," you say. You're trying for casual and sounding much too happy, not nearly as wry as you'd wanted.

"It happens all the time."

You want to pinch him and crawl away from him, scold him for teasing you, but you have the horrifying feeling that he's being honest, and if he is you're literally gonna have to kiss him until you die.

"Fred," you whisper.

He laughs softly and pulls you closer still. "I'm not kidding. I try to talk to you but I can't. It was worse when we were younger," he confides.

"Really?"

"I was hopeless. It was awful."

"I couldn't really talk," you say.

He stares at you open-mouthed and then bursts into laughter. "That's not funny," he says urgently.

You worm your hands behind his ears. "You're laughing."

"You surprised me."

"I mean, it was a little funny. I just never spoke-"

"I'm glad you want to joke about it, but really, it's not funny," he says lightly, still laughing, "it was- well." Fred encourages your face to the side so he can kiss your cheek. "You've heard it all before. I love you. When you don't want to talk and when you do." He pouts at you. "Especially when you do," he adds, like it's a secret.

"Wait a minute. You've hijacked me."

"Have I?"

"Yes, you have! I was trying to love on you, and you-"

"Love on me-"

"-steamrolled over me, Fred."

"Oh no."

"Fred."

"Alright, sorry," he says, dropping his head flat into the pillows and his hands to his chest. "Tell me how great I am."

"You're amazing," you say earnestly, brushing all the hair back from his face. "So sweet and… so kind. Handsome."

He laughs infectiously, the sound all sticky and low like he's been eating honey by the spoonful.

"'Nd you're funny, sometimes," you add.

He curls his hands around your hip before abandoning that pursuit and pressing his hand flush into your abdomen and then upward. He stops a few inches from your chest and rubs a small, soothing back and forth.

"People say that about me," he agrees. His delivery is lackluster, any bravado lost to what sounds like distraction. He looks up. "You're okay."

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Fred goes quiet. His eyes track over your face and you can't find it in you to break the silence. You think he might be having a moment, and it makes you wonder about all the stuff he thinks about when you're too busy in your own head.

Although Fred has missed sex with you, you don't end up messing around. The opposite, your much-needed heart to heart has left the both of you similarly weak-limbed, and for hours you don't do anything but lie down together and talk. Most of the serious stuff out of the way, Fred picks your brain for the little things he's missed.

You've been sad lately, you haven't talked as often, and though he'd never ever tell you, he has ached for the sound of your voice. To hear you mumbling about the shape of his nose, incensed over the rising price of milk, or even giggling giddily over his hands tickling the length of your arm, these are all things he would give anything for.

You do remember eventually what you'd set out to do, and you say, "I really was trying to seduce you. I'm sorry we haven't, you know. Sorry I've-"

"Hey," he says, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

"I've missed it," you say, and then cover your face. "Oh."

"Have you?" he asks smugly, leaning down to rub his nose against the naked slip of skin below your ear.

You move your hands and grin at him. "Freddie."

It's imbued with a lot of meaning. He understands what you're saying. Not to be full of himself, but it's evident how much you like sleeping with him, he's not stupid. He likes it in equal amounts.

"It's not because I don't want you, I just don't feel pretty," you say, and then wince.

"You don't?" Fred doesn't give you time to answer. "How could you not think you're pretty? You're the prettiest girl on the planet. " His light-hearted tone hides his worry.

Thankfully, you're in good spirits today and your mood doesn't drop.

"I don't know. I think it's just how I've been feeling. 'Low moods affect your sex-drive,'" you quote, smiling sheepishly.

He laughs abruptly enough to startle you, thinking of what he'd said to George, those exact words. He loves you so much maybe your brains have started to merge.

"Here I was worried you'd gone off me," he says.

"What?" you ask shortly. "No! I just- it's only-"

"You don't have to explain," he says, kissing your shoulder. "It really doesn't matter. I know you know how much I like it-" the effort it takes not to blush here is incredible, "but I'd also hope you know that it's never going to matter to me as much as how you're feeling does. Never."

You groan and hide your face in the curve of his neck. Your answer vibrates against his skin, "Stop it. I don't want to have serious talks anymore. I feel like I'm on fire."

"You are pretty hot," he says agreeably.

"You're hotter."

Then, in the straw that breaks the camel's back, you lick the tip of your finger, press it to his chest and make a hiss like boiling water.

"Oh my god," he says, hand cupping the back of your head. "Oh my god. I love you. I love you more than anything. Stop hiding, we need to kiss now."

"I can't kiss you, you'll burn me."

"If it were the other way around, I'd kiss you. Just saying."

"Hm," you hum sarcastically.

He wraps his arm around you and pats your back. "We could never fuck again and it wouldn't matter," he continues his earlier point.

"Enough," you groan. "Please, Fred."

"I just want to make sure you know."

"Consider it known."

"Consider it known," he grumbles to himself. "Consider this known, doll, I'm gonna force you into serious, uncomfortable, excruciating talks about our feelings for the rest of our lives."

He can feel your smile stretch over his neck. "The horror," you murmur.

He thinks about asking you to move in. Fred had known as soon as George said he was moving out that he wanted to ask you to move in with him. It would be the next chapter of your lives.

You say something too quiet to hear to hear into his skin. Fred would bet every bit of wealth he has that he knows what you said. He decides the conversation can wait for another day.

He has some words of his own he wants to press into your skin.

He mouths the first round against your forehead. "Love you too."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x fem!reader #fem!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n

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scenetocause · 10 months

Text

mando, orgasm denial

"Mate," Max bites his lip. "This cannot be fun."

Lando basically growls at him and says "will you just get on with it" and Max assumed he meant make him come until Lando bats his hand away and says not that.

"What do you actually want, Bob?" He's used to an element of chaos in the bedroom, Lando's urge to do weird things even he can't always explain an ever-present concern but this is just confusing.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Lando wriggles round, grabs his boxers, puts them back on. Like this is going to be one of their more serious conversations and he doesn't want his cock to hear about it. "I want you to, like, not let me come."

"But... why?" Lando loves coming. On Max, in Max, over his own hand, wherever. Max has a horrible feeling a fleshlight might have ended up involved over lockdown and just tries not to think about it, like, ever.

"I dunno?" Lando shrugs and flops back on their bed, nudges Max with his knee. "It just feels, like, not good but it is, kind of and then when I do it's like, really good."

He can't help wrinkling his nose. "When have you ever not come twice a day?"

"Sometimes," Lando says, primly, closing his eyes. "I don't when I'm like, in Qatar or wherever."

"What the fuck?"

"I don't wanna be arrested, what'd you do if I was in jail forever?"

Max doesn't want to think about any of this but especially not that. "Mate, I don't know if I want to - like, I like getting you off. I don't wanna hurt you or something."

"You won't." Lando says it with a deeply annoying level of confidence. "You'll just make me complain for, like, an hour and then I'll come on your face."

He contemplates it for a few moments, lying down next to Lando to think through how he'll make this work. "Ok."

They snuggle into each other for a moment, Lando biting at Max's ear and getting comfy against his side, slinging a leg over him. It gives shape to the vague thing Max had been turning over in his brain, not exactly an experienced scene-planner or whatever.

"C'mon," he tucks an arm round Lando, pushes his hips up against Max's. "You're allowed a minute."

Lando pouts. "What?"

"You can -" Max isn't great at dirty talk, can admit this to himself but it's kind of ok with them. "- hump my leg or whatever. One minute."

Lando looks at him incredulously for a minute and mumbles something about "mate" but then puts his head back down against Max's shoulder, rolls his hips. Max fishes his phone out of his pocket, finds the timer app.

"Go on then, you've got 40 seconds now."

"Fuck off," bites Lando but his dick's hot and heavy against Max's leg, properly turned on already. Max imagines he can feel the wetness that Lando always leaks, excited, through his boxers even if it's actually just sweat.

"Alright, times up."

Lando makes an extremely aggrieved sound, for someone who literally, specifically asked for this. And Max might - he's not really into this sort of thing, wouldn't tie Lando up or whatever but they do like annoying each other.

"You asked for it," he reaffirms. "How long do you think you can last before you get to do that again?"

Lando makes a huffy noise. "I dunno. Ten minutes?"

"Hmm," Max sets an alarm for 20. Plays with the hair at the back of Lando's neck, strokes down the knobs of the top of his spine, feels the way his fingertips make the fine hairs on Lando's skin stand up, like all of Lando is irresistibly attracted to being near Max.

He's shifting, restless but almost suspiciously quit, just leaning into Max and breathing softly against his neck. It's so comfy they're both well settled, Max halfway to asleep by the time the alarm goes.

"Oh, see - you can be good. I reckon you can have two minutes for that."

Quiet Lando might have been being but his dick's been throbbing up against Max's leg, warm and tense, the uncomfortable situation of being trapped in Lanhdo's boxers clear. Max actually has to use some force to push back against Lando, stop him literally humping him through the mattress.

"Oi," Max wrestles him a bit, when the timer chimes. "Stop it."

Lando whines. "I wanna."

"Nope." Max pinches the back of his neck, knows he isn't hurting Lando but wants to get his attention back somewhere other than his pants. "You wanted to wait."

"Maaaa-aaaaax," Lando singsongs and Max squeezes him, cuddles him down. Feels the restless, twitchy movements of Lando trying not to hump him die down, like he's actually desperate to be good. It's a weird sort of power and not one he's that into but is kind of fun, maybe, just sometimes.

"I'm gonna time 15 minutes," he presses a kiss, gentle, to Lando's sweaty forehead. "And then I'm gonna make you come."

Lando whines again but puts an arm around Max, squishes him once like it's an agreement.

After five minutes Max says "do you wanna come in your pants? Or on my face? You can think about it while we're waiting, baby."

The noise Lando makes, like a dying animal, is satisfying in a way he doesn't want to explore.

Five more minutes later, stroking his hand down the fine sweat on Lando's shoulder blades, he adds some more thoughts. "I guess you could come in me, if you want me to open myself up? I could finger myself for you, Bob. Get myself all wet for you. You could watch-" "Fuck," Lando bites his shoulder. "Shut up."

When the timer goes, Lando makes a move to climb up Max but he's ready for it, uses Lando's horny distraction as an advantage to flip him onto his back and get Max's hand in his boxers. It's over in a few strokes, Lando coming up his own abs for a drawn-out, limb-twisting orgasm that makes him writhe and pant.

Lando's legs are shaky, awkward to bend when Max strips his boxers off and uses them to clean up the mess on his twitching stomach. Bending down after, he presses a kiss just below Lando's belly button, where he's always been sensitive, to feel the muscles jump.

"What you wanted, Bob?"

Lando just hums something, holds his arms out for Max to fold himself into.

Just on the brink of them drifting into a nap, Max catches "do wanna fuck you now, though" and slaps Lando's arm, rubbing his nose into his collarbone like they can get more entwined.

#whoops lets pretend i posted this yesterday #summerofcum2023 #emptyhalf fic

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senlinyu · 1 year

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will u be taking a writing hiatus after ltdi or will u continue writing? ik how taxing it must be for you after finishing such a big project n i feel a lil selfish for asking this bcz i rlly want u to put ur mental health first n not make it feel like i’m squeezing u dry for content n i don’t wanna make ur amazing contributions to this fandom feel like work (i’m rambling😭) but if u do plan on writing more still n have other ideas flying around in ur head could u give us a lil sneak peak into whatver that wonderful mind of urs is hiding🙈🙈🙈 ik i remember u wanting to write smt with poly hermoine draco n professor lupin?? that i have to have been able to get out of my head🤭🙈 or did i hallucinate us collectively freaking out about a heist dramoine fic idea?? that also sounds wonderful🤭!! sorry if asking this before ltdi is even completly out is in bad taste i was just a lil curious😭

Honestly I'm probably going to be retiring after Let The Dark In is completed. That's been the plan at least for the last year or so, although I've got a myriad of other wips that I'm hoping to finish and upload before arriving at that point, so consider retirement as being on the distant horizon.

I do really enjoy writing fanfic, but writing as Sen has gotten a bit weird over the last few years, and it doesn't really have the same creative freedom/recreational hobby/artistic liberty feeling that it used to as a result of my stories being treated like commercial works, and when something like Manacled gets put into that category, I get put into the author/influencer category, and then when I interact with someone/something it's treated as an endorsement as if I keep a marketing team somewhere, and that I have editors and copy-editors, and sensitivity readers on hand instead of some friends who are politely putting up with me and reminding me how to use commas, and all in all it does not really spark joy.

So, I'm not planning to up and vanish, but I'd say I'm in the early process of a gradual wind-down on fandom. But, I'm an obsessive planner, and typically do things in stages, so you're not free of me yet.

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irregularcollapse · 2 months

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hiii!! sorry if this is too broad or weird a question or its simply not the place, but how do you manage to keep writing? i watched you posting (and read!) all of even in another time, and am amazed at your consistency when working in something that's so nicely done. you can really tell how passionate and invested you were in doing it. im writing my first long fic for another fandom and im finding it really hard to keep going with my story. im only on chapter three and it feels like writing it all out is both an insurmountable mountain and like it's all basically already told, like anyone could guess where it'd go so its trite or whatever. it's not so much to me about audience engagement (that has been very heartening) but like, just being a bit lost. did you have any issues like this? have you ever experienced anything like it? thank you so so much for hearing me out

hi hello! this is such a good question really, and it is definitely something that all writers encounter and hit up against. longer works are a hell of a commitment—it can be super difficult to maintain the stamina.

there are lots of things that i do to which help me to finish what i start.

the best laid plans: i know people talk about 'planners' and 'pantsers' and say that neither approach is better, but i personally think that's a crock of shit and you can 100% tell when a writer doesn't know where their story is going. so, plan plan plan, and write it down.

write the bits you want to write: make a doc called 'scraps' (or something) and write any snippets/lines/paragraphs/scenes that you're hankering to write, when you get the inspo for them. it doesn't matter if they're not chronological—the whole point is to keep the flow when you find the flow, and then you've also got things to work towards; when you go back to writing in the chronology, then you're aiming for a point that excites you, knowing it's ready to copy-paste when you get to it.

patience before you post: i don't start posting a long fic until i've got a substantial amount written. this way i know where i'm going, i know that it's turning out the way i want it to, and i've got time to edit and tweak before sharing it (more on this next). giving myself a specific schedule also means that i've got a sort of 'deadline' to work towards, but with a substantial buffer provided by what i've already written and polished.

reread, rewrite, edit edit edit: when i hit a writing block, i carve out editing time. i'll export my working doc to a different format that i can make comments on, and read it all through. this is a proofread, but it's an edit read as well. proofreading is looking for spelling, grammar, punctuation (technical errors). editing is looking for cogency and coherence. the crucial thing is to read it out loud. yes, all of it. listen to how it sounds. listen to the sentences, the dialogue. listen to the flow. if it doesn't sound right, it won't read right—so, rewrite it.

alpha, beta, omega: so technically in fic spaces, we don't use the term 'beta reader' accurately. when writers talk about 'beta readers', we're actually talking about a second reader in the drafting process. the first reader is the alpha reader; the alpha reader is kind of a 'big picture' reader who will give you advice on structure and coherency, from the perspective of a writer-reader. the second reader is the beta reader; the beta reader gives you a blind reader response from an audience perspective. your alpha reader will be most helpful if they're also a writer, someone who understands the story you want to tell and whose opinion you trust. it doesn't really matter what you call them (alpha, beta, omega if you wish), the point is that the impetus to keep going and to continue working on your story can often come from having someone to talk about it with—someone who is as invested as you are, will help you stay on track, and can give you the advice you need to ensure your story turns out the way you want it to.

i suppose the overall thing is that i approach fic writing no differently to how i approach original writing; the commitment to finish has to be the same. i have to believe in my story and my concept regardless of what the format or audience is. if i'm not obsessed with my story, i know it hasn't got the legs needed to carry my to the end.

i'm not sure whether i've answered your question! if there's anything else you want to ask, or anything you want clarified, feel free to reach out again. congrats on starting your first long fic!! i'm stoked for you. wishing you all the best for writing the rest!

#asks #anonymous #my writing

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chloe-spade · 2 months

Text

The Little Leeches Act Three: Love can be broken

Jade, Azul, and Floyd all watched as the maids, butlers, planners, chefs and even the gardeners rushed. It was odd to watch, seeing the castle transformed into a beautiful landscape. It was odd for the trio.

"Planning an engagement party must be tough work," Azul spoke, looking around, "all we wanted to do was to have a nice cup of that thing called tea and think of a new plan while we're at it."

"Boring, though, I do like the sweets," Floyd chuckled.

"Floyd, this is serious, we only have two days.."

"I know," Floyd pouted, "I was joking a bit."

Jade was, not his choice, silent. But the thought of Trey being with another had a strange feeling erupt in his heart. Was this the concept of jealousy? It was an odd feeling, especially with a ting of his heart beating fast at the thought.

"Nonetheless, we need to spend our last days strategically, especailly with Jade. And since we have so little time, we need to- Floyd! For the love of the Coral Sea!"

Azul and Jade followed Floyd, who was peaking into the throne room, where an odd contest was taking place.

💞

Trey just mumbled to himself as he sat on a table, incredibly annoyed. Alongside him was Riddle, who came for more emotional support than anything. He seemed to be the only one who believed him about Jade being his savior, but his mother did not want to believe him after Riddle's sudden proposal.

Now, Julius is hosting a contest for a few princesses who traveled to the Queendom of Roses, which annoyed Trey more.

"Welcome, dear friends, to our contest," Julius announced, "The first that this kingdom has ever seen! We gather today for a vocal display. So our prince may at last choose a queen!"

"Wow, they are really really reaching, hmm?" Riddle whispered towards Trey.

"Yes. And I want to leave."

"These six princesses possess the most accomplished voices in all the land!" Queen Icabeth added, "Tonight, one of you will go home with the crown! May the best woman win!"

One Princess stood tall with a humongous grin as she started to sing.

💞

Listen to me

Don't I sound rich?

Loud, am I not?

Plus, I've got perfect pitch

Wouldn't you think I'm the girl

The girl who has everything?

💞

"That's not her voice," Trey interrupted, "I'll know it the moment I hear it,"

Trey didn't even finish his sentence. The 2nd and 3rd princesses quickly waltz forward and begin to sing.

💞

Listen to this

Clear as can be!

You'll know I'm it

When I hit my high C! Ah!

Wouldn't you think I'm the girl

The girl who has everything?

Everything! Everything…

💞

Even when Trey tried to protest, no one listened to him. The last three girls immediately swarmed around him, trying to sing his ears off. It wasn't the same soothing tone as he remembered.

💞

I'm a world-famous coloratura!

My vibrato is second to none!

I'm a walking display of bravura!

It's so clear…

Can't you hear?

I'm the one!

💞

"Can this end please?" Trey groaned, getting up, "I don't want to want this extra amount of stress, especially when you have me planning this entire ball."

Trey turns to walk away.

"Trey, you can't possibly believe that that…man is the one all this time? He does not speak, unlike his brother." Icabeth scoffed.

"Say what you want, I do not care." Trey walked away. "I just want to this to end. So, please let me be."

Trey walked past the trio who watched in awe.

"So, Sea Turtle can be mean," Floyd pointed out, "what a weird thing to witness."

"I can't believe this," Azul gasped, "He is so enamored by Jade that he rejected people who can actually sing and speak. I guess we don't need to plan that ahead, do we?"

"Maybe not," Floyd grinned, "Sea Turtle is already so honest, getting a kiss from him is easy as swimming away from sharks! Jade, you have to take that and go after him!"

Jade almost silently protested until Floyd pushed him forward, giving him no choice in the matter.

As he walked through the gardens, he could feel his heart pounding. The beautiful roses surround him, and his mind has become shambled. Watching Trey be that confident about him, to reject every woman available that could be better for him, it made him feel, well, a lot of feelings.

'How could I even compete with many others.' He thought. 'Human people…and then there's…a merman he doesn't know existed.'

He looked down at a nearby fountain and looked into his human reflection.

Why did he do this? He often pondered. But every time he tried to remember beyond his scale taken disappeared, and it caused a massive headache afterwards. His only answer was for Floyd, his heartbroken brother who finally got to be with the human he loved, but now he was at a standstill, wondering why they hadn't returned to the sea and knowing that his parents were incredibly worried about him and Floyd. He can accept he did things for selfish reasons but was it selfish to go back now rather than stay and watch the person he loved pick someone else, someone who is human, and someone who can talk to him, and actually contribute to his conversations?

"Jade?"

Jade turned to see Trey, who was on the other side of the fountain. Somehow, Jade didn't see him.

"What's the matter?" He asked, walking towards Jade.

Jade flinched a little as Trey wiped away some tears from his cheeks. He lifted his hand to feel the wetness of his cheek, clearly surprised.

"Are you sad about the ball tonight?" Trey pondered. "I guess so, considering how my family is when it comes to it. With the ball, comes a tie that'll tie me down to the kingdom. Morbid thought, but it's all I can think of. It's ridiculous."

Jade sat Trey down by the fountain, his hand now carefully guiding the small fish within it.

Trey watched with bated breath, as he felt his heart beat just by watching him. So much so he had forgotten his words.

"You are very easy to talk to," Trey spoke but paused, now realizing his mistake,"…not because you can't talk!"

Jade silently laughs at Trey's flustered face.

"I mean," Trey gulped, trying to look at Jade, "you seem to listen and it makes me feel very better about myself. Like how you enjoyed my cooking this morning. That gleam in your eyes was so adorable. Like you were smiling with your eyes, as they say."

Jade looks at Trey and holds his hand.

"For a long time, I wasn't happy being around people, only my family, and ever since I met you, it's like you brought light into my world for the first time," Trey says with a small smile," and I'm so blessed that you came into my life, Jade."

Jade managed a smile and brought Trey into a small hug. It told Trey that he felt the same about him as well, blessed to meet him as well.

"You know," Trey cleared his throat, "I do have a gift for you, and I hope you'll like it."

Trey pulled away from the hug and reached into his pocket, confusing Jade.

Trey smiled and pulled out a sculpture of a mermaid, made of out beautiful jade. Jade knew it was custom-made, considering how Trey had been secretive about it since they left the village. Was he supposed to present it to him at the boat ride?

Jade took it, with much care, not wanting to drop or break it. It was a beautifully made gift, and he didn't want to tarnish it.

He looked up at Trey and had a bright grin. He mouthed thank you and carefully set it on his lap.

"I have another gift for you," Trey whispered, "but I want you to close your eyes."

Jade hesitated before closing his eyes.

With his eyes closed, Trey puts a necklace around his neck, and he feels it.

"Open," Trey instructed.

Jade did and looked at the water's reflection. He saw a beautiful seashell necklace, with his name engraved with it, all golden. Floyd was right, anything shiny meant beautiful.

"You like it?" Trey asked.

Jade frantically nodded, holding Trey's hands. He had a big smile on his face, which was rare to see for Trey, as Jade would always close smiles, but seeing him like that made Trey happy.

"How about we dance you together?" Trey spoke, getting and lifting Jade.

Jade gulped and looked down at his feet, unsure how to answer.

"No?"

Jade shakes his head, looking at Trey.

Trey smiles and takes Jade's hand holding him close, starting to sway from side to side, making it easy for Jade to follow him, looking down at his feet repeatedly, nervous about stepping on Trey's feet.

"For someone who has seemingly never danced before, you already seem like a natural." Trey complimented, "You're dancing is so much better than mine. I can barely keep a rhythm, while with you it seems natural."

To emphasize his point, Trey twirls Jade, with it perfectly, even Jade is shocked, but he can keep his footing. He managed to gulp but they continued.

What was helping Jade was him imagining swimming in the ocean again, with freer and no restrictions such as two long legs that could get tangled together. It made Jade feel more at home, even for a small while. It was to the point where he forgot that he was with Trey, who was watching with admiration.

It made Trey fall more in love with him, much more than he did when he was saved. Everything from his eyes to his touch was everything that Trey imagined, but it was much more.

"Well, we should save the rest of the dancing for later," Trey concluded, pulling away and bowing to Jade. "I do look forward to dancing with you at the ball. Perhaps, maybe for the entire night."

Jade felt his face become warm and he bows back to Trey.

"Then it settled," Trey smiles and walks back inside.

Jade sat down at the fountain and looked down at himself again, and for the first time, seeing his human reflection made him smile.

💞

Trey watches as the people are approaching, with a sour feeling in his gut, one that he couldn't describe. Every carriage came with a new potential choice, but none that Trey would choose, they weren't the ones who saved him.

He was so deep in thought, that he did not notice Riddle entering the room.

"Nervous?" asked Riddle, walking by, making Trey jolt in shock.

"Was it too obvious?" Trey asked with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, you look like you're about to barf everything out at once, and you are slowly becoming pale." Riddle described, giving Trey his glasses.

"Yep… it's definitely nervous." Trey sighs, "I even forgot my glasses. Riddle, look at the suitors below us, all for me to choose under one singular night."

"Royal sutures aren't that good." Riddle rolls his eyes. "They're just obnoxious and their egos are massive. No need to fear them."

"It's not that I'm scared about."

"Hmm?"

"It's just…I have already chosen someone. And the reactions of Mother and Father…could destroy me." Trey explained. "And I know I'm ready for any consequences that came with my choice but…is it that bad if it's my choice?"

"Of course not. Mother has not let up on Floyd at all since I proposed. So, I think she'll react the same…but I'm happy with my choices and you should as well. And she won't get in the way of our happiness…Father will make sure of that."

Trey chuckled at Riddle's slide remark.

"That's true."

Both have a small laugh.

"I'll take my leave. But remember what I said." Riddle said, walking away.

Trey nodded and looked over at the carriages again. He hates the feeling of nervousness, but he supposes it's a normal feeling when surrounded by massive groups of people.

He saw faces from familiar to unrecognizable, but his eyes caught two very unfamiliar people. It was a man and someone he could assume to be his mother. A chill went down his back when he saw them like a curse was spread across his body, like a curse was planted onto him, and that every moment will and can go wrong.

Without a second thought, he walked away to the hallway making his way to the ballroom. With one last sigh, Trey fixed his glasses and followed Riddle out to the throne room, hoping that his luck wouldn't ruin a beautiful night.

💞

Jade watched as the stars appeared in the night sky, and people entering the castle, still incredibly nervous. He wasn't even dressed up yet, just looking down at the balcony. Did he want to get ready? Even after it all, he was not moving his feet.

He already felt like an outlier, even with Floyd next to him. Speaking of Floyd, he was brushing Jade's hair with a dinglehopper.

"You know," he teased, "if I didn't know any better, I would think Sea Turtle is falling for you."

Jade scoffed and looked away.

"What?" Floyd laughs, "You are so in love with Sea Turtle, and it's so like me and Goldfishie. A human and a merman, both falling in love with each other." Floyd takes Jade's new necklace and puts it on him, looking at each other in the mirror.

"You are doing so much for me," Floyd's laugh soothed down, "…I mean it. You have been with me, even to the surface world, something you would vow you'd never do."

That was true. One of Jade's first words when discovering Floyd's item collecting hobby, he made Floyd vow that he wouldn't force Jade onto the humans. But he, of course, ignored his vow and went along with Floyd several times, and extension, the day on the ship was a broken vow for him.

Jade wouldn't say he didn't hate the surface, he was just homesick.

"Can I admit something?" Floyd whispered.

Jade looked over at Floyd and nodded.

"I get homesick too," Floyd admitted, "I miss Mama and Dad so much. I know I should be angry at Dad, but.."

Floyd stopped for a moment and gives out a massive smile. "Time to get you ready for the ball now! Sea Turtle will flip when he sees you!"

Floyd helped Jade up and got him into heels, that matched Floyd's and with Jade being mute, he couldn't object in anger, so he suffered in silence.

Everything was chosen by Floyd, with some silent objections from Jade from time to time. Especially when it came to his dress, which Jade had major opinions on. Jade wanted to look nice, but not flashy, or clashing.

Like a soft ocean blue off-shoulder, long dress, as though a poof was needed for some volume, but it was a soft poof, which contrasted with Floyd's, a soft lilac, off-shoulder and a bigger poof, which would make twirling much more fun for Floyd, Jade figured.

Jade's hair was also perfectly brushed to a nice curl, with a mer-made seashell clip, a gift from Azul.

Seeing Jade and Floyd side to side made Jade smile again, matching his brothers.

"We should be going!" Floyd cheered, "Azul is waiting for us! With Goldfishie and Sea Turtle will absolutely see you. You are going to be the starfish at the ball!"

Jade just gulped and let Floyd drag him out.

💞

Azul walked back to the library, seeing Idia, not thrilled about the new ball. This time he was accompanied by a younger boy who was helping Idia with his suit.

"Oh, you look dashing this evening," Azul walked in, teasing.

Idia's pale face was now pink, now flustered. "…what are you doing here?" He managed to ask.

"Well, you did say you were going to the ball, and I am surprised that you are attending."

"More like it's because of me," the young boy grinned. "I'm Ortho Shroud, Idia's younger brother. And I have the utmost pleasure to drag my older brother to a great occasion," he then glares at Idia, "instead of being at home all alone, right, big brother?"

"Uh…right," Idia whispered.

"Well, I do think a little social interaction does not hurt anyone and for someone with a..beautifully pale perflection should go out often." Azul mused.

"See, that's what I thought as well," Ortho agreed, "and this is the perfect night. And it's at night so you don't have to worry about the sunlight as well."

Azul looks and smiles at the duo.

"Now we shouldn't be late," Azul spoke up and turned to leave, "I hope to see you two there. Especially you, Idia."

"Y-yeah," Idia gulped.

Azul walked out.

"…wait!? Beautiful?!" Idia gasped, now blushing, his entire face was entirely red. "So that wasn't my imagination.."

💞

"Are you sure that tonight is the night?" Azul asked, "Look at Trey, he looks absolutely sea sick. Green, just like his hair."

"He just confirmed it with me," Riddle spoke up, "We just have to wait for Jade and Floyd, and you're right. Tonight is perfect, but I understand your concern."

"Why is Trey so nervous? This is normal for princes, right? To have fun when a good occasion arises?" Azul asked.

Riddle took a deep breath. "Trey has never been to a star of a ball before. And this is the first one he is attending, and he's getting all the attention, so it's making him on edge. I mean, even his birthday was a day where the attention was not on him."

Azul took a moment to think.

"I don't want to be very negative about this. But I have a feeling my aunt and cousin are going to do something to sabotage everything. I've been very much on my toes this past week. We have less than 3 days left. And Jade barely remember his own deal, all for a reason I cannot fathom."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My aunt can do this for fun, and that's all I know of her," Azul admitted, "I never knew her, but I need to heed her. Protect those who needs me."

"You've already done so much," Riddle comforted, "Floyd and Jade trust you to be with them, and I can see that myself."

Azul's lips weaved into a small smile, now hoping the night would go extremely well.

"We're here!" Cheered Floyd, rushing down the stairs, hands still entwined with Jade's. "Did we miss anything?"

"Must you be so loud?" Azul scowled, "Don't you know that my aunt could be anywhere in this room with us?"

"Sorry, but look at Jade," Floyd grinned, "He looks very eye-catching. Sea Turtle will gaze for hours now."

"That should be good," Riddle mumbled.

"Right, do we need to exactly worry?" Floyd grinned.

"Yes. After some thought, I know that the boat incident was not an accident. As Trey mentioned, the boat was flipped over, meaning that Winifred has either, turned it herself or the most likely option, send her stupid little squid to do her dirty work for her. And I am not taking any chances tonight."

It made Jade nauseous, but he kept it in and looked around.

"I was lucky with Goldfishie but now Jade isn't lucky. What if Sea Turtle…" Floyd mumbled, echoing Jade's silent thoughts.

"Floyd, weren't you the one who said not to doubt Trey?" Azul questioned. "With you hyping everyone up?"

"Please don't doubt Trey, Floyd. Trust me, I will make sure he'll ask." Riddle added.

"Alright…" Floyd sighs. "But hey! Let's enjoy the party!" He cheered, walking around. Jade followed suit, making sure Floyd didn't cause a mess.

"Nothing could stop him from yelling?" Riddle sighs.

"Don't worry, he'll tire himself out as soon as the party ends." Azul chuckles.

The party guests were walking in, with Julius and Icabeth greeting them as they entered.

"Hello, Hello," Icabeth greeted, "Thank you for coming to this special occasion, as we find a perfect spouse for my lovely son, Trey, so my sweet ladies, please enjoy yourselves," A cough from Julius made her continue, with a mixture of an eye roll," And we celebrate the engagement of my son, Prince Riddle and his fiancé, Floyd Leech."

"I'm surprised she even remembered my name," Floyd muttered to Jade.

Jade covered his mouth to hide a sneaky smirk, trying to keep composure.

"Hey~, don't laugh," Floyd pouted, "I should be happy celeberating.."

Jade's eyes widened as his mouth was still covered, but it was obvious that Jade was trying not to laugh, which annoyed Floyd more.

Meanwhile, Trey was being bombarded with Princesses, Ladies, and even some Maidens, and even when he tried to walk away, he didn't even get the time to. In a short amount of time, Trey got that cursed feeling as he saw the woman he saw earlier; he could sense one was staring. He looked over and saw Jade, listening to Floyd's babbling, and found an escape plan from the gaze.

He immediately and carefully went over, beeling and took Jade's hand.

"You wouldn't mind if I borrowed your brother for a few minutes?" Trey asked, keeping Jade close by holding his hip. "I heard the music playing."

Jade's face was a bright red as he felt Trey's hand. He didn't know what was happening, but Floyd's sneaky little smile made it clear that he knew but wouldn't tell.

"Of course, Sea Turtle." Floyd chuckles.

Trey smiles and leads Jade to the dance floor. He bowed and offered his hand, with Jade taking his hand. They began dancing, though trying to be quick, especially from Jade. Even after that short dance, Jade quickly walked away to a nearby window, nervous.

Azul was annoyed so he that he thought of a plan.

"You two," Azul spoke, taking Riddle and Floyd to the corner where the musicians were.

"We need to set up the mood," Azul whispered, "They won't kiss, especially with Jade not taking initiative. So we need to convince Trey."

"How, exactly?" Riddle questioned.

"Song?"

Azul's eyes light up at the mentioned idea and he carefully looked back at the musicians.

"Good idea, Floyd," Azul grins and uses his hand as a conductor, using his magic to control the music, "After all,we need…Percussion."

"Strings."

"Winds..?"

"And Words.."

Azul looked back and started to sing.

💞

There you see him

Sitting there across the way

He don't got a lot to say

But there's somet'ing about him

💞

Trey looks and stares at Jade, even when many try to get him to dance, he just can't stop staring. Especially with a night sky in the background of a fictional portrait he had in his head.

💞

And you don't know why

But you're dying to try

You wanna kiss the boy

💞

Trey, entranced, walked closer to Jade, ignoring everyone in the room. He sighs and takes Jade's hand again, more gently.

💞

Yes, you want him

Look at him, you know you do

Possible he want you too

Use your words, boy, and ask him

If the time is right and the time is tonight

Go on and kiss the boy

💞

"May I have this dance?" Trey asked, "I promise to be much more patient and slower this time."

Jade looked down at their hands held together and nodded. Trey grins and leads them to the floor once again, and carefully pulls Jade close.

"Are you ready?" Trey whispered.

Jade mouthed a yes and took a breath.

💞

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, my, oh, my

Look like the boy too shy

Ain't gonna kiss the boy

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ain't that sad?

Ain't it a shame? Too bad

He gonna (miss the boy!)

💞

"Hey, pull it back, Floyd, pull it back!" Azul lectured.

Riddle was confused about how Azul even got him to sing so confidently, though he didn't want to question a sea witch. He just wanted to see Trey and Jade dance together made everything worth it.

"Wow," Trey gasped, "I know I mentioned this, but you look absolutely beautiful. Especially under this lighting, and maybe underneath a moonlight. I know I seemed forward with everything but I never felt this way so…like this before. You saved me, now I'm here and I have you to thank, Jade."

Jade smiles and goes closer to Trey, now happier.

💞

Now's your moment (Ooh)

Dancin' 'round the ballroom floor (Ooh)

Boy, you better do it soon

No time will be better

He don't say a word

And he won't say a word until ya

Kiss the boy (Kiss the boy, kiss the boy)

💞

Jade gulped, feeling Trey bringing him closer. He wanted to kiss him, but something was holding him back, it felt like grabbing him.

"What is it?" Trey whispered, "Are you nervous again? Don't worry, I'll be here for you cause, I'm nervous too."

💞

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, don't be scared (Sha-la-la-la-la-la)

You got the mood prepared (Sha-la-la-la-la-la)

Go on and kiss the boy (Woah, woah)

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, don't stop now (Sha-la-la-la-la-la)

Don't try to hide it (Sha-la)

How you wanna kiss the boy

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, float along (Sha-la-la-la-la-la)

And listen to the song (Sha-la)

The song say, "Kiss the Boy"

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, the music play (Sha-la)

Do what the music say

You got to kiss the boy

💞

As they danced, Trey felt Jade grip him.

He felt Trey getting close, his lips were close to kissing but a ghost of the kiss was there.

"I love you," Trey whispered, "You are incredible. After I met you and got to see you throughout these days, I finally saw you tonight and my love is here, and it will never go away. No will take that away from you."

Jade's hands loosened and he took a steady breath.

'I love you too, Jade mouthed back, 'I understand but…I'm scared.'

"I know, but I'm scared too. I never expected this but I'm so happy that I do." He looked at Jade again, "I do not want you to be forced into marriage, unlike what people want."

Jade managed a smile.

Trey began to lean closer.

💞

You've gotta kiss the boy

Why don't you kiss the boy

C'mon and kiss the boy

Go on and kiss the boy

💞

Jade looked around and saw green eyes staring at him and he began to shake again. A massive headache filled his brain as he continued to dance with Trey.

He pulled away and kissed his cheek, before walking away and leaving the ballroom.

He couldn't stop shaking, his body was shaking so badly that he had to sit down. He looked around where he was and he was by the beach where they first met, him and Trey. He looked over to the sea and watched it move towards him.

Jade tries to breathe, ignoring the many thoughts that clouded his head. His head pounded as he tried to calm down. He felt the water on his toes, as it tried to pull him away and back into the ocean.

Where he belongs.

After a while, he heard screams behind him. It was Floyd and Azul running towards him.

"Jade!" Called out Floyd.

"Are you ok!? Please tell me if you're ok!" Azul asked, checking Jade.

Jade nodded and rested against Azul, yawning.

"What happened?" Azul asked, letting Jade rest. "You look so sick right now."

Jade took a small breath and looked up at Azul and Floyd, and he felt his tears. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't help it, the pain in his head was so intense.

"What's wrong?" Floyd asked.

"It's the spell," Azul confirmed. "He's fighting his memories and his forgetfulness is causing severe pain."

"Oh, I thought you got nervous because you got stared at by those humans," Floyd whispered, and a soft laugh flew slowly.

Jade nervously smiles and looks down.

'Maybe,' he mouthed with a silent laugh that ended with a wince.

"I mean, you danced amazingly out there," Floyd complimented, "like guiding throughout the sea."

"Floyd, Jade, now is not the time." Azul lectured.

Jade looks back at the ocean and walks toward it, letting the waves hit his feet. Floyd and Azul followed.

"Do you miss it?" Floyd asked, "Swimming with me in a massive shipwreck, collecting every single human stuff we could find, setting up the grotto."

Jade nodded, taking Floyd's hand.

"I'm sorry," Floyd whispered, "I did this to you," he looked back at Jade, "I dragged you into this..and now you'll be stuck with that sea witch if you don't fall for Sea Turtle. I wish I didn't drag you down with me, to bring you here with me. You don't deserve to be turned to sea foam because of my decision and my stubbornness. I don't want to lose you, Jade…" Tears were on his cheeks now. "You are my brother…I can't lose you now."

Jade wiped Floyd's tears and brought him into a tight hug.

Even without a voice, Floyd can hear Jade's words.

'I forgive you.'

'I would still go regardless.'

'You are my brother, of course I will go with you.'

"You're the best," Floyd sobs, "I'm so lucky to have a brother like you in my life, and now I can't stop thinking about losing you, and… and…"

Jade held him close, caressing his hair. He looks down and mouths, 'I forgive you, Floyd. You are my brother, and I'll always be by your side. Now and Always.'

Azul grins and takes the twins back to the shore.

"You know, Floyd," Azul spoke, "I'm glad you are stubborn. I mean, being up here is an experience I could never forget. Even I liked it here. It's all thanks to you two," Azul brings the two into a hug, "now that means I am going to help you more and we will get you two together."

Azul felt Jade breathe slowly, and he saw that Jade had fallen asleep.

"Let's rest here for now," Floyd yawned, "I mean, just for a while. Being by the sea,"

Azul sighs, "Fine. I don't see why that would be a problem."

Jade, Floyd, and Azul rested and fell asleep on the beach, with the ocean by their feet.

💞

By the rocky shore, not so far from the trio, was Trey calling out to Jade, through the upcoming fog was making it difficult to see any form of human beings amid the fog.

Soon, a melody filled the air, though faded because of the distance. He walked towards it, as instinctual. The song became powerful as he went close and a yellow glow made him see a figure. A man, his feet playing with the ocean.

"Hello?" He managed to say.

This startled the boy and he looked back.

"Yes, your highness?" he spoke back.

"What are you doing here? And your voice..uh,"

"Well, I hoped you would find me, but I didn't have time to approuch."

"That was you?"

"Yes, it was the right thing to do after all," the man answered and he walked towards Trey, "people talked about the person who saved you and well, I didn't think you remembered me."

"Uh, well, I'm glad I saw you but I'm looking for someone else. But you can accomany me, so I don't want you to get lost in the fog."

Trey began to walk but the singing started again, and this time it had an effect on him. He slowly turned back and walked towards the man.

"Can I lead you back to the palace?"

"Why thank you," The man giggles, "My name is Adam."

#twisted wonderland #original characters #original work #the little leeches #the little mermaid au #little mermaid au #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #idia shroud #ortho shroud #treyjade #florid #idiazul #twst #disney twst

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