#and its like right??? it's devastating! she WAS that important and special | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

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A shrill beep breaks his focus, and for it he nearly gets sliced in the eye.

He just barely manages to dodge the Gladiator’s blade, ducking under its sword and rolling towards his jacket and boots, crumpled on the floor. He digs out his comm, as quickly as he can with the Gladiator hot on his tail, and glances at the new message. It’s from Lance.

sharpshooter:

keith where tf are u

sharpshooter:

please know if u miss yet another meeting i am going to kick ur ass

sharpshooter:

better yet i’m gonna have allura kick ur ass bc she actually can

sharpshooter:

know that it will be painful

Keith rolls his eyes, dropping his comm and feigning left just as the Gladiator stabs right through where his head was milliseconds prior. No longer worried that he’s missing something important, he throws himself back into the fight, matching his breathing to the clash of his sword against the Gladiator’s, the steady taps of their feet on the floor as they move, the rapid beat of his own heart. It’s easy to sink into the movement, the adrenaline; to stop thinking.

Thinking is dangerous. Thinking is painful. Thinking reminds him only of how much he’s lost, how much he’s falling short. None of that is helpful. The weight of his sword in his hand, the smell of sweat and metal, the harsh white lights of the training room — all that is helpful. All that is real.

“Kogane, you are the most irritating person in space. And that’s saying a lot, because I’m here, and I specialize in being irritating.”

The Gladiator freezes mid strike, then fades into pixels. The harsh lights dim.

Keith turns around with a scowl. Lance matches it, standing right beside the training room kill switch, arm crossed and jaw set defiantly.

“I’m trying to train, Lance.”

“No need. You’ve reached peak levels of infuriating. No more training necessary.”

Keith rolls his eyes so hard it hurts, jogging over to his water bottle and chugging half of it before dropping to the floor and doing push-ups. Whatever. Lance may have shut down the Gladiator, but Keith can train in other ways. He’ll just turn it back on when Lance leaves.

“Oh, you fucking —”

Before he can fully register what’s happening, a sharp wooshing noise gets louder, and he rolls out of the way seconds before a sword flies by his head and imbeds itself in the wall.

A very, very familiar sword, white with red accents.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Keith shouts, but Lance is already sprinting to grab his bayard, face impassive.

Keith scrambles to his feet, lunging for his own blade, barely managing to activate it and hold it in front of him to block Lance’s oncoming strike. The force of the blow is so powerful it sends a painful ripple down his arms.

Lance is just barely smirking.

“If it’s a fucking fight you want than you’ll get it,” Keith growls, spinning out of the way and putting some distance between them, adjusting his stance and tensing his shoulders.

“I don’t want a fight, douchebag. But obviously talking like grownups is too hard for your tiny little brain, so I’m going to explain this in a way you can understand.”

“You’re really shitty at one-liners,” Keith points out, aiming a thrust at Lance’s left hip, which he always leaves open.

To Keith’s delight, Lance’s smirk drops. “That’s because one-liners are stupid!” he says defensively, barely managing to swerve to the side in time to avoid serious damage. He retaliates by swinging his longsword like it’s a fucking bat, and Keith’s head is a baseball, because Lance is allergic to the real swordfighting techniques Keith has attempted to teach him. And also peanuts, but that’s not helpful right this second. “I only have one line to destroy you emotionally! Truly devastating burns are multi-layered, which is why you can never come up with them, you one-dimensional oreo thinnie!”

Keith grunts, sidestepping Lance’s attempt to stab his foot and clashing his sword at the base of Lance’s, right near the hilt, trying to disarm him. It works, but only because Lance anticipated the move, and as his sword is bent from his hand he does some sort of twisting manoeuvre with his wrist and manages to catch it, somehow. It’s infuriating.

“I stopped listening twelve percent into your sentence.”

“Well, you do that a lot, so colour me unsurprised.”

The unfiltered bitterness in Lance’s voice throws him for a loop, distracts him. He blinks, thrown-off, head out of the game.

“What?”

His distractedness costs him. Faster than he can fully track, Lance hooks his foot around Keith’s ankle, sweeping his legs out from under him, and then shoves him to the floor, pinning his wrists above his head, knee to Keith’s navel, sword to his throat. Keith tries to struggle, to either buck Lance off or angle his own sword, still clenched in his hand, back up to Lance, but he’s exhausted — he’s been training since he woke up this morning. Lance has him at a disadvantage.

“You are being a massive douchebag dumbass loser,” Lance says, panting. “I am fighting the urge to kill you for real.”

“Maybe don’t,” Keith suggests, suddenly very aware of the position they’re in and how easily Lance could drive his sword through Keith’s skull. He knows Lance won’t, or else he’d be struggling way more, but the way Lance is eyeing his own sword is certainly not helping.

Lance sighs. “We need to take a break, Keith.”

Keith frowns. “What?”

Lance sighs again, shifting off of Keith and standing, offering his hand. Keith takes it, pulling himself up, and then follows Lance over to the wall, sitting down next to him.

“What?” he repeats, when Lance doesn’t say anything for several minutes.

Lance shifts to face him, and for the first time Keith really notices the bags under his eyes, the sag of his shoulders. “We need to take a break,” he repeats. “All of us. The team. We need to do something that isn’t this —” he spreads his arm, gesturing to their swords and then between them — “all the time. We need a vacation.”

“No.” Keith barely lets him finish. He gets back to his feet, picking up his sword and heading back towards the system modulator, flipping through the different training modules. Lance follows him immediately.

“Keith —”

“No, Lance,” Keith repeats, fists clenching the edge of the computer. “This is a fucking war. There are no vacations. End of discussion.”

Lance mutters something in Spanish, too fast for Keith to pick up, but he clearly hears a few repeated instances of “cabrón”, and “comemierda”, and “tonto terco idiota que va a hacer que nos maten a todos”, none of which he can translate but he’s pretty sure he gets the general message.

“Keith.” Lance wraps an arm around Keith’s wrist, tugging him away from the training computer. “I cannot possibly understand the pain you are going through. Nothing I have ever gone through can possibly be the same as how it feels to lose a brother. For the second time, for fuck’s sake. I know that.”

Keith clenches his jaw, swallowing the lump in his throat at the mere mention of Shiro. He itches to yank his hand away, boot up the Gladiator again, and train and train and train until he can’t hear his thoughts anymore.

But he doesn’t.

“But you’re not alone in this, man,” Lance continues. Keith turns to glare at him — what a fucking crock of cliched bullshit — but Lance holds his gaze, steady and firm. “Pidge knows exactly what you’re going through. Allura, too. Hell, even Coran. That’s three separate people who understand every single thing you’re going through right now. Intimately.”

That brings Keith up short. “It’s not the same,” Keith insists anyway. “Plus it — it doesn’t matter. What good is talking out our feelings going to do? That’s not going to fuckin’ find him. I’m only going to find him if I keep working.”

“Really interesting that you say that,” Lance says flatly. “I had this exact conversation with Pidge last night, as I was attempting to force her to get some sleep.”

Keith feels something like guilt build up deep in his stomach.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And it’s one thing for me to mother hen the fifteen year old, but it’s a whole other, weirdly Freudian thing for me to mother hen you, the grownup leader who is supposed to be guiding the team and not a giant headass who is doing intensely stupid shit like ignoring team meetings and training to the point where he passes out.”

“In my defense, the daily team meetings are dumb,” Keith mutters, because apparently he wants Lance to kick him out the airlock.

Luckily, Lance only smiles wryly. “You’re lucky I’m endlessly benevolent and I’m going to let that slide. Come sit down, asshole. You missed today’s meeting because you were busy being emo, but we’ll have a small meeting now. A co-leaders meeting.”

Keith relents, sitting next to Lance on the floor, back to the wall as Lance sits criss-cross-applesauce in front of him.

“Okay. Vacation. Necessary.”

“Counterpoint. We all manage our schedules better and have some free time, and don’t waste our time spending who knows how long doing nothing.”

“Counter counter point. We do both of those things or I mutiny.”

Lance does not appear to be joking even a little. When it’s clear that Keith isn’t going to speak any further, he sighs.

“Look,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know that the idea of not doing something for a day is kind of stressful. But…saving the world is a massive bummer, dude. Being on this lonely ass castle in the middle of empty space is a bummer. Chasing a walking purple L’Oreal commercial who is also a homicidal maniac is a bummer. Eating in silence during team dinners is a bummer. Trying to force Pidge and Hunk to step away from their tech for a few hours to sleep and eat and shower is a bummer. Dragging Allura away from the briefing room is a bummer. Making sure you don’t work yourself to death is a bummer. Being the red paladin, if I’m being a thousand percent honest, right now, is a bummer. I’m bummed, dude.”

Despite himself, Keith smiles slightly. Lance grins back, tired and a tad condescending but also fond.

“I got it, Lance.”

“Excellent. I even dumbed it down so it would not escape you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You know what would make me less of an asshole?”

“A vacation?” Keith guesses.

“Ding ding ding! Vacation is the answer.” Lance reaches forward, grabbing Keith’s water bottle straight from his hands and taking a swig. “And since you decided to ditch the daily briefing, you get to make it up to me today by convincing the rest of the team to agree and also agreeing to whatever vacation spot I choose.”

“I will agree to one of those things.”

Lance laughs, bright and happy, and it sends such a startling zap of energy and relief through Keith’s entire body that he’s kicking himself for making it so rare, as of late.

“Oh, Mullet, you are so naive.”

Lance gets to his feet, offering his hand to Keith again. This time, when Keith takes it, he holds on for a moment — he smiles at Lance, tired but genuine. Lance smiles back, knocking their shoulders together.

It’s nice to be back on the same page.

———

Keith thinks he reserves the right to complain, honestly.

Well, maybe not. He did work everyone pretty hard. And he is glad that Lance finally convinced him (if threatening to mutiny can be called convincing) to go on vacation, even though you couldn’t waterboard that out of him.

“If you complain even one more time I am going to draw a massive dick with the sunscreen where you can’t reach,” Lance says pleasantly, squirting what Keith would call a massive excess of Altean SPF 900 onto his hands (alien suns are a little more deadly. Who knew). He slaps it on Keith’s back, slathering it with absolutely zero care and an abundance of glee.

It doesn’t make Keith smile. It doesn’t.

“I’ll just wear a shirt until the sunburn fades. Complaining is worth it.”

Lance only hums, working in the cream. It starts to feel good, his cold fingers digging into the knots on Keith’s back. It feels so good, in fact, that Keith lets his guard down.

Rookie mistake if he’s ever made one.

One second he’s sat on the warm sand, tension melting from his shoulders, and the next he’s fucking airborne; Lance picking him up by the waist and throwing him over broad swimmers shoulders.

“Lance!” he screeches, pounding on the red paladin’s back, “fucking let me down! Dickhead!”

Lance is cackling loudly, picking up speed and jogging for the — icy cold! Keith knows! — waves. The rest of the team looks in their direction, but Keith loses any hope of their aid when they all burst out laughing.

“All of you are the worst!” Keith cries, but he can’t deny that it’s nice to hear their laughter again.

It’s been a while.

Still, though, Keith is not going down without a fight. As he and his captor get closer and closer to a watery doom (Keith has never been dramatic even a day in his life), Keith really starts to struggle. He throws his whole body weight to one side, making Lance stumble. He aims an elbow to the Cuban’s ear, but before his hit can land, he hears a voice shout: “Oh, no you don’t!”

Three things happen in quick succession.

One. Lance whoops in triumph.

Two. A curtain of white hair flashes towards him, and yet another arm grabs him around the waist.

Three. He drops, and water colder than the fucking glacial arctic seas envelops him entirely.

He comes back up sputtering, glaring a thousand daggers at Allura.

“You’ll pay for that,” he informs her.

“Ha!” She looks down at him smugly, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised to her hairline. “Good luck with that.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate before tackling her into the waves.

It doesn’t take long after that for things to devolve into chaos. Hunk happily follows Allura and Lance’s examples, scooping up Pidge — to her rage — and Coran — to his delight — under one arm each, tossing them in the water like neither weighs particular more to him than perhaps a bunch of grapes.

(Dear Lord. If Keith were not so gone on Lance’s ass…)

As much as he tries to deny it, Keith has fun. Very quickly Lance organizes a game of chicken, climbing up Keith’s body like a particularly aggravating monkey (something Keith is happy to tell him) and settling on his shoulders, thighs bracketing his head and ankles crossed at his abdomen.

Keith goes so violently red that he’s genuinely kind of shocked that he can turn that colour.

“Squeeze any tighter, Lance, and Keefers over there is going to evaporate the entire ocean,” Pidge says drily.

Keith does not wait for her to get situated on Coran’s shoulders. He charges.

Despite his brain relaying a constant stream of Oh God Lance’s thighs are wrapped around your head holy shit he’s sitting on your shoulders and he’s barely dressed his fucking legs are so long why are they so long does he have to be this attractive is that even possible what the fuck is the deal with that, he manages to put his full attention into going absolutely ham. He charges, dodges, leaps and bounds, intent on being the winning team of this ridiculous but admittedly fun game.

Allura and Hunk dominate. Easily. It’s barely even a competition. They dunk everyone else so many times that they have to plead for mercy.

Still, Keith has a huge smile on his face by the time everyone peels off and cools down.

“There it is,” Lance says, poking him on the cheek.

Keith bats his hands away. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

But Lance is undeterred by his gruffness. He smiles, fondly, rolling his eyes, then bounds away with a random bucket to the shoreline, likely to look for cool seashells.

Keith is so endeared that it’s honestly a little sickening. Never in his life has he been so attached to the whims to another person.

He doesn’t hate it, somehow.

“If you keep building the habit of watching your red paladin so lovingly, you may be accused of favouritism in the near future,” Coran teases, taking a seat next to him on the sand.

Keith flushes. Your red paladin rings in his ears.

“I don’t watch him like that,” he denies loudly.

“You do so,” pipes up the peanut gallery, also known as Pidge Holt, without so much as glancing up from her, Hunk’s, and Allura’s massive sandcastle. Honestly, sandcastle might not be the right word for it. The magnificent undertaking is significantly larger and significantly prettier than his dingy shack from back home.

“You’re fired,” Keith shoots back. Pidge only rolls her eyes, reaching over and smashing one of the sand figures standing on the castle.

“I just killed sand Keith for your insolence. Beg for my forgiveness or I won’t rebuild you.”

The two of them continue to bicker until Allura throws clumps of sand at them to get them to shut up.

“Aw, the sand got stuck in my sunscreen,” Keith pouts. He tries to rub it off, but it only scrapes his skin off with it, so he gives up. “You’re the worst!”

“I’m going to put more sand in your hair,” Allura says mildly. She scoops up a handful. Keith holds a bucket of water up in front of him in defense.

Before an all out war can be restarted, Hunk stills, looking up from his intricate castle-building with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, speaking of sunscreen, where’s Lance? He can usually be relied upon to snootily inform anyone who will listen about UV rays and skin cancer every hour.”

“He went to go find seashells.”

Hunk’s brow furrows. “And he’s not back yet? It’s been a bit. Do you think he got lost?”

“Let’s go look for him,” Keith says, scrambling to his feet immediately. His heartbeat picks up slightly, ‘Lance’ and ‘lost’ ringing through his head like disjointed echoes. He’s already halfway down the sand by the time he registers the voices around him, hears the calling of his name, feels a steady hand on his shoulder.

“He’s not lost,” Coran says kindly. His green eyes are wrought with pain and empathy and understanding alike, reminding Keith of Lance’s earlier words. Reminding him that his family truly does understand his pain, truly does know him, get him. Coran’s hand squeezes once, and Keith takes a deep breath, smiling slightly back at him, covering his hand briefly with his own.

“Okay.”

Still, the six of them walk down the shoreline faster than they would normally, figuring safe is better than sorry.

“Hey, look.” Pidge points at a small purple critter scuttling across the sand. “Does that thing look like it’s in a hurry to you?”

“I think all crabs kind of look like they’re in a hurry,” Hunk reasons.

Allura smiles slightly, snapping his hands. “It’s the snappiness to their movements.”

Just as they speak, however, another crab scurries along, and then another. Soon dozens of them are visible, digging themselves out of the sand or hopping out of the water, then hurrying down the shoreline like whatever their chasing is about to run out. Eventually the crowd of crabs get so thick that it’s almost impossible to walk without gently sweeping several of them aside to make room for their feet.

“Oh, hey, guys!”

A few yards in front of them, sat cross cross applesauce on the sand, surrounded by hundreds of little crabs, is Lance. In front of him is the bucket he had left with and a sponge-like chunk of seaweed. He grins sunnily at them, so widely that the brown of his eyes is hidden, they crinkle so much, and returns his attention to the bucket. He holds his hand out to one of the many crabs chittering around them, waiting for it to crawl on, then gently lowers it into the bucket, using the spongey seaweed to scrub its shell.

“I’m giving the crabs baths!” The little crab in the bucket seems to wiggle, almost, in some kind of glee, waiting for Lance to finish, pat it on the head, and set it down on the sand before scuttling away.

“You’re bathing,” says Pidge incredulously, “aquatic sand bugs.”

“Some of them have a lot of barnacle buildup,” Lance says primly.

“We thought you went missing,” Keith blurts. He can’t quite keep the fear out of his voice, that built up as soon as he’d realized that Lance was gone, fear that comes out as anger. He regrets it as soon as it comes out, bracing himself for the set to Lance’s jaw and and the defensiveness in his jaw. But to his surprise Lance only softens, holding a crab out to Keith. He takes it on reflex, blinking at it in confusion. The crab blinks back.

“I did not,” Lance promises. “But I was looking for shells, and then I saw Jorge flipped upside down, so I helped him, and then we were chilling, and then I noticed he was walking funny because of a barnacle buildup on his leg, so I asked him if he wanted me to get it off, and he didn’t answer but he was cool to hop in the bucket so I cleaned him off. And then Carmen showed up so I polished her up, and then Amelia, then Hunk Two —”

“You named a crab after me?” Hunk interrupts, visibly touched.”

Lance nods matter-of-factly. “Strong and sunset coloured. All of you have crab buddies. Look.” He scoops up six crabs from his lap, showing the Hunk-crab first, then showing three other crabs in order: a teeny-tiny dark green one with black marks around its eyes, a bright pink one that sparkles when it moves, and an orange one with markings around its mouth. “Pidge-crab, Allura-crab, Coran-crab.” Finally he holds out his hand to the crab that has been sitting protectively on his head, burrowed in his curls. It takes a moment, but eventually the little thing begrudgingly steps from the safety of Lance’s hair and into his cupped hand. He brings it carefully down, giving it an exaggerated smooch on the head.

“This one is Keith-crab,” he says. “Because it is all emo coloured and likes me best.” Lance looks up at him and grins. “I am your absolute favourite all the time, right, Mullet?”

Keith knows Lance is teasing. Obviously. Evident in the way the rest of the team is snickering to themselves, no doubt remembering the years of arguing they’ve witnessed.

But still. Keith feels lightheaded.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, bright red. There’s a beat of silence that stretches out for twelve years, then Pidge guffaws, Hunk bites his lip, and Allura straight up loses it. Even Coran hides a smile in his hand.

“What the fuck, Keith,” Lance says, strangled. His face glows worse than Keith’s does. “You’re not supposed to admit it.”

“Would it be so bad?“ Keith erupts, voice cracking. “So what you’re my favourite? There’s no way you didn’t know! I let you get away with everything! You threatened to shove a sword through my skull yesterday and I didn’t even put you in a chokehold about it!”

Lance makes a long, anguished noise, setting the crab down with great care before burying his face in his hands. “You’re so embarrassing,” he moans. “You don’t have an ounce of rizz in your body. None.”

Keith sputters. “What does that even mean!”

“It means he liiiiiiikes yooooouuuu,” Pidge crows. Allura makes kissy faces.

And, well. Pidge cannot be trusted. She has openly and gleefully informed him that lying for fun is one of her favourite hobbies, especially when Keith is at the other end of her clowning.

But Lance is still trying to shrink back into himself, embarrassed. And he always finds an excuse to have his hands on Keith, somehow. And Keith hangs out with him more than anyone else, honestly.

Keith turns to Lance, hopeful. “You do?”

Lance points at him, glaring. “This does not count. You hear me?”

Keith grins, rocking back on his heels. “I’m not sure.” Lance scowls. Keith genuinely feels like he might be floating, so long as he ignores his asshole friends. “You might have to spell it out for me.”

“You talk to me properly,” Lance lists. “When we are alone. Play it up and wax poetic and — I dunno, flowers or something. You figure it out. I refuse to have this be how I find out you have feelings for me.”

“I mean, I was never really hiding it.”

“I’ll divorce you, Keith, I swear to God.”

Humming, Keith leans close, careful of the crabs, and presses a kiss to Lance’s cheek. At the last second Lance turns his head, catching his lips and kissing him properly. His smile is wide and shy.

“Sure, Sharpshooter.”

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madeholyy · 11 months

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you & i ; leon kennedy / reader

and i'm not normally the jealous, jealous type. but if we're picking favorites than i am yours. [jealousy, requited unrequited love]

He wouldn’t admit it, but you could see it clear as day in his eyes. Or at least you think you could. Leon was quiet and focused, repeatedly checking on his hand gun like he didn’t believe it was perfectly fine. You fiddle with your combat knife between your fingers while stealing glances at him. No matter how many times you asked if he was alright he always gave the same excuse: It’s just Ashley. But it wasn’t. He was worried, but his mind was occupied with something else— someone else. It wasn’t any of your business, but the haunted look swirling about the solid blue in his eyes was your ghost as well. She might as well wrap her gloved hands around the column of your neck and squeeze the air from your lungs with the aftershocks she sent through you both. An appearance from an echo of another time, another place.

And the silence was the worst part of all.

It gnawed on the marrow of your bones and made a home in your chest. He barely acknowledged any attempt you made at a conversation. You wanted the sky to open up and swallow you whole; break every bone in your body and tear you so finely apart you were nothing more than stardust. Maybe you’d come back as a hurricane or an earthquake. Maybe you’d unleash your anguish and heartbreak in a fury of raging winds and seismic waves. You didn’t care what you’d leave behind in the wake of your destruction, everyone else be damned. What mattered was the aftermath. The peace beyond satisfaction as you wither into nothingness. But you weren’t a devastating storm, you were just devastating. And it hurt to feel so small with someone who made you feel so warm. Leon never talked about her much, but he confided in you enough for you to know whatever you guys were was in jeopardy if not already damaged beyond repair. His demeanor only solidified the fear.

Then he stood up and you watched his every movement right down to the way his shoulders rose and fell in rhythm with his breathing. He holstered his gun. You faced the knife blade down between your thighs and dug it into the wooden chair beneath you. He avoided eye contact. Your knuckles turned white from the sheer force of your anger-turned-suppressed-sadness. Did you even exist to him right now?

“Let’s get goin’.” His voice held firm, but you felt anything but. Standing up after him, you slide the knife back into its sheath wrapped against your thigh. You figure a small hum in response would suffice. Before walking out behind him, you glance back at the window that is wide open and clench your jaw. Then you swiftly turn away.

You suppose you should have realized Leon wasn’t serious about you two. All those flirty exchanges and nothing to show for them. You had thought this was just the usual talking stage, but perhaps he never planned for it to go past that. Of course, why would he? With a woman as beautiful as her it would be no competition. You follow him through a hallway in disarray with only a single room at the end of it. Chairs, tables, and other furnishing items were shoved up against the walls with no regard. Inside the small room was nothing special, but you looked around regardless. The fireplace was lit and wood burned and crackled within. There was a table with books and cups strewn across it with chairs around it. You stepped forward, placing your hand on the book that rests at the end of the table. Your eyes scanned over the pages and you barely noticed Leon attempting to press on.

“You could let me get a good look around before you rush me.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice dull of emotion. He seems a bit taken aback by it, but his expression melts away into something more his speed; neutral.

“We have more important things to do than read.” Leon holds your gaze and you roll your eyes only to abide by his pace in the end.

His hand reaches out for you. You look up at him from the ground, cautious and hesitant, but accept his help. You didn’t realize how badly you had been smacked into the stone wall until he examined you from behind.

“That’s gonna make a nasty ass bruise.” He scoffs, his demeanor different all of a sudden. You’re quiet, studying his face for a sign. Your lack of reaction causes him to stare back with something almost unreadable then his gaze drops to your lips and back up to your eyes. There’s something soft, but you’re so scared of his soft. Quickly looking away, you roll your shoulder back a few times and groan.

“They pack a punch in here… I hope Ashley is okay. I know they wouldn’t—“ You pause, inhale, then exhale, “Let’s just fine her.”

Leon keeps his eyes trained on you and you alone. He makes you feel naked under his stare; vulnerable and exposed. There’s a beat then he’s matching your steps down the path before you. It’s so painfully awkward, but you only have yourself to thank for that. It would’ve been easier to play the stupid, oblivious second choice as you assumed he’d want you to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be selfish in a job that forced you to be only selfless. You wanted him in every possible way and so painfully wholeheartedly it made you want to cry. So badly it felt too heavy on your chest and you struggled to breath against the weight of your wants. What did you have to do to be enough? The pain rushed through you in quick succession. You were thankful Leon was behind you or he’d see the way your lip quivered as you fought back tears the welling in your eyes.

Leon never promised a future together. He never even let you get your hopes too high. It always hurt knowing he wasn’t all in like you were, but you accepted it nonetheless. Now you feel foolish. You couldn’t convince someone to love you.

Ashley was elated to reunite with you both after Leon comforted her. You stayed back guarding the door, unable to look her in the eyes. She would know something wasn’t quite right with a glance. It was a talent you weren’t anticipating dealing with. Ever since you had both located and saved her, Ashley was keen on asking you questions about your relationship with Leon. You wouldn’t give clear cut answers, but the way your cheeks dusted pink and you tried to hide a smile, Ashley knew. She would be able to spot it a mile away. The older sister-younger sister dynamic came easily between you two as you were relatively close in age to begin with. It was sweet, but also terrifying how she could pinpoint your thoughts with accuracy. Maybe that was your downfall. You wore your heart on your sleeve and Leon kept every little thought and emotion locked up tightly. He wasn’t stoic by any means; capable of laughing, smiling, and joking. He was just…guarded. Way better at it than you were. If she couldn’t get answers from him she could get them from you. It was easy to tell yourself that talking about how you felt made it somewhat better, but then you’d have to admit what you avoided. You’d have to tell Ashley she was right all along. These were words you weren’t sure you could say.

There was a knock on the double door behind you. A signal that he and Ashley were finished talking. Once you had walked in, Ashley ran up and hugged you with all her might (which was surprisingly a lot). Her head easily rested against your shoulder due to you both being very similar heights. You, of course, embraced her back and the lump in your throat came back. Warm, comforting…it was what you needed most with your conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The moment was broken by Luis on Leon’s earpiece. You and Ashley slowly pulled away from each other as you watched. From what you both could hear it sounded as if Luis was in quite a predicament. You frowned, but there was a hint of amusement in your eyes at their interaction. The transmission is cut short and Leon’s face is contorted in annoyance.

“Can’t believe that guy.” He scoffs, doing one last sweep of the room for anything remotely useful before your journey continues.

“He’s in trouble. We can’t just leave him, right?” Ashley was not fully separated from you, concern glistening in her eyes. She was sweet, but Leon looked exasperated having to come to Luis’s aid. He was an interesting guy despite his past dealings and you couldn’t lie about feeling distrusting of him, but he made you laugh and it was hard to not like someone who did that. You join him in taking a quick look around before he pushes the door open to reveal a hedge maze below. You lean against the railing, pulling your rifle off your pack and situated in your hands. You peered through the scope. A lone Colmillo stalked a pathway across from your group.

“Fifteen?” You asked.

“This isn’t even a fair bet.” Leon huffed a small laugh, crossing his arms as he watched your target. You hummed, taking aim and watching for a moment to catch the creature off guard. The second he stood still your finger squeezed the trigger and a loud shot rang out across the maze. His body fell limp to the floor. You leaned back and Leon whistled, ruffling your hair. For just a minute you forgot why you were even upset and welcomed his gentle touch.

“Alright, write it down. I owe you fifteen bucks.” He playfully rolled his eyes at you. When his back turned, you watched him saunter off down the steps with his handgun ready. Ashley glanced at you.

“Did he do something?” Her voice was soft and gentle as if you were a cornered animal. You hardly realized the frown on your lips and the way your eyebrows creased together. His retreating form made you feel empty. Loneliness thrived.

“Let's not fall behind.” You smiled in her direction, but it never reached your eyes. Now it was Ashley’s turn to frown, but she complied.

Your knuckles turned pearly white as you gripped the golden bars of your cage. Your eyes were focused on the balcony above you where Ashley had been taken. Leon hurried to unlock a door, but was interrupted by another call on his ear piece.

“Ada?” His voice speaking her name caused your stomach to plummet far, far down— or at least that’s how it felt. Every nerve in your body trembled as you bow your head against the bars. The conversation seemed brief as not a minute later he was calling out her name frantically then sighed. You couldn’t even stand the thought of looking at him. It seems that’s all you have felt this last hour; unable to confront the one person you should be able to trust the most.

“C’mon— Hey, are you alright?” His hand barely grazed your shoulder before you whipped around and stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed stunned himself, holding his hand in the air, mouth agape. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move. The ache in your heart and the burning in your lungs. Your chest feels heavy and constricted and you could only watch as he lowered his hand and waited on your cue. But there wasn’t a cue. You wanted to scream at him, but you also wanted to run off alone and scream until your throat was raw and bloodied. Attracting the attention of the castle's inhabitant did not matter, but thinking rationally wasn’t on your agenda currently. You bit the inside of your cheek and inhaled a trembling breath.

“...I’m sorry. I just…” But you couldn’t finish your thought or rather your excuse as none came readily to mind. It should’ve been easy to blame the things you endured, but that wasn’t it. And even if you were to voice the real reason you would feel idiotic. Leon was in mission mode and didn’t need a lovesick girl making a scene while the President’s daughter was snatched from their hands.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself. One moment you’re talking to me like normal and the next you’re— You seem so angry.” Of course he would pick the worst time to wrangle the truth from you. His eyes were so sincere, but his features weren’t soft. There was determination dancing in his tone as he spoke.

“It’s just this whole mission.” You were quick to excuse yourself, but Leon followed.

“Is that really it?” He brushed his fingers on your elbow, but you refused to look back at him. You’d kill for one of those Zealots to interrupt this moment, but God wasn’t so kind.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but everything is so fucked up. I’m just not doing so well.” It absolutely murdered you to seem so weak and vulnerable to something you both had been groomed for, but it was easier to use that as an excuse than confess to being head over heels for your partner. Of course, it wasn’t like Leon hadn’t already blurred that line. He proved it in the way he stepped around you to stand face to face once more. You didn’t need to look up to know exactly how he was watching you. In fact, it was better you didn’t. One look into those mesmerizing blue eyes and your anger and sadness would waver. It was so easy to forget when he looked at you like that. Leon cautiously raised a hand and wrapped it very gently around your elbow, caressing the material of your black long sleeve. The fabric had already been snared by a close call with a Zealot and his crossbow. He could make out the vibrant blue and purple painting the soft skin of your arm. You were littered in battle wounds and deep bruises.

“We’ll handle this the same way we always have. Together.” He was soft spoken and reassuring. It only made you want to cry. How could he be so kind when breaking your heart?

“Yeah…yeah. Let’s go find Ashley.” You finally matched his gaze with a meek smile. He was hurting you and didn’t even notice. Leon was ever the oblivious type unless you made it apparent. He looked over you with confliction as if something was stuck in his throat and he didn’t know how to say it. His hand fell down your arm, fingertips bumping against yours as if he was attempting to muster up the courage to hold it. You could feel your heart rate speed up at his simple gesture. You quickly cover the lower half of your face with your hand and turn away from him.

“I said let’s go find Ashley!” You sped walked over to the room that opened up beside you guys earlier.

“As you wish.” He huffed a laugh and you could just hear the smile. He knew he had gotten to you.

The mineshaft was damp, musty, and smelled heavily of rockdust. You sat next to Leon as he flexed his arms, watching the limb very carefully for any protruding veins. Luis proudly leaned against a structure. You wished you could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the suppressant worked, but Leon was a ticking time bomb. Any moment the infection could regain control and the symptoms would resurface. How long did he have until then? What measures could you both take to hold it at bay? You were overthinking and thinking overall was bad, you knew that. If you thought for too long you would eventually break away piece by piece until nothing was left of you but brittle bones and teeth. Your heart was shattering for a man who would not give you his eternity.

So you did the next best thing: walk away from the problem— literally. Feigned the desire to strategize while he recovered and hid away between wooden crates and empty drums. It wasn’t home, but you could breathe. The ache in your chest and lungs subsided as you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your weary arms around them. Held them as close as you wanted to hold him but he longed for the embrace of another; a woman dressed in red and confidence. An image of her face flashed through your exhaustion riddled mind and you simpered. You were a kettle ready to shriek from the pressure that built deep within. Only your shrieking would be a spectacle. It would be tables turning, glass shattering. You would not go with grace for that was admitting a defeat only you knew of. Was letting go even possible? Leon left a scar on you that would never fade and every fall you’d see him in the fog like a phantom of the past. He was inescapable. And you wanted to be selfish anyways, hold onto him like he’d dissolve into ash if you let go.

“You look…stressed.” A familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights, staring up at Luis as he held your attention with his signature smirk. You scoffed, stretching your legs out while he took a seat beside you.

“That’s an understatement. All this Plagas bullshit is getting on my nerves.” You fibbed through pearly white teeth. The words felt bitter on your tongue and you were unable to hold his gaze.

“Is it really that?” He asked. You froze. Your expression remained neutral, but Luis could feel the confliction radiating off of you like body heat.

“Is that answer not good enough? I know I’m bad at lying, but have some sympathy.” Your words spilled from your lips with a tremble. Your voice cracked into a whisper as if you strained to maintain composure and perhaps that was precisely the struggle. A question. It was simple and you could have lied again. But you were weak and he was honest.

Luis sighed, smiling softly to himself while looking at the ground, “I’ve spent my whole life mastering that and you can’t fool a professional.”

Now you were fraying at the seams. Every emotion bloated in size and threatened to burst. Heavy was the weight you burdened yourself with. Droplets fell like pearls on the floor of the mineshaft, collecting dirt on its spherical surface until it popped and soaked in. You looked up for a brief moment wondering if the ceiling was leaking only to discover you had begun to cry. Ducking your head down again, you pulled the hem of your sleeve up your palm and used it to dab the tears streaming down your face.

“That was kind of corny.” You sputtered a laugh and sniffled.

“Corny? I think you’re just embarrassed and don’t want to admit it.” He was right, but you refrained from answering. Instead, you inhaled deep breaths as you patted down your damp cheeks.

“I guess you can know, but it’s a secret between us.” It was meant to come across as humorous, but you sounded pathetic, “It hurts. Ya’know, being in love with someone who belongs to someone else.”

Luis didn’t interrupt. He also didn’t belittle you for how you felt. He sat there, listening attentively, and occasionally nodding along so you knew he was still listening. It meant the world and more to you. Had Ashley been here you knew you’d have broken down the same way in front of her, but she was so far away and you were so fragile. Luis was a shoulder to cry on; something you needed for a long while.

“I don’t really know the specifics, but…maybe you’re not looking at it from the right angle.” Luis merely suggested and you could hear the struggle in his words as he chose what to say very carefully. It made you laugh again.

“Hey, we ready to go?” This time, Luis was startled as well, but he hid it quickly behind a cheshire grin. You looked up to see Leon a few feet away. In the dim lantern light, he appeared holy. If you were to believe in something, you’d believe in his divinity. Something godly walked among men and you weren’t the religious type, but you didn’t need to be. Shaking your head gently, you stumbled onto your feet. Leon watched you cautiously. You knew your eyes were red and puffy, but you merely walked past him to the path forward. It took awhile for you to realize they had fallen behind, but the further away you were from him, the more at ease you felt.

If looks could kill, yours would be lethal. In fact, you spent the entire boat ride avoiding absolutely any eye contact with Ada. It was awkward and Leon was tense. You expected him to make his move here, but that was more so your imagination. As soon as Ada had left and the boat stilled at shore, you leapt forward to grab his arm. You don’t know what came over you. It was almost on instinct you attached yourself to him. Leon looked down at you, eyes filled with bewilderment. The waves crashed against the rocks below you both, filling the silence with ambient sounds. When he fully turned to face you, you pushed yourself off him and heaved a shaky breath.

“Leon—”

“This is about Ada, isn’t it?” You paused, snapping your head up to meet his eyes. It was like he gave you permission to combust, word vomit everything you had been thinking and feeling the entire time.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” It came out close to a whisper, but you tested the waters with it.

“Hey now—” But he was effectively cut off as you picked up a rock and threw it at the boat with all your might. Now he was just confused. This didn’t stop him taking a step back as you found more ammo to unleash on the one thing that did absolutely nothing to you. You pelted it with stone after stone, grunting at the force with which you launched them. It was the same cycle of scour and attack until you became noticeably feeble with your hurling.

“I hate—” The rock hit the very front and left a noticeable dent, “—her so much! I hate that you love her!”

Then you crumbled, meekly tossing the rocks now with no strength behind them. It was cathartic at first, but quickly became meaningless in the face of heartbreak. You were now a shell of your red-hot anger; a bright flame dwindling in the rain until the glowing embers were burnt out. For the first time since this feeling settled on your stomach, you sobbed inconsolably. You covered your mouth with your palms and leaned forward to curl into yourself and released a scream muffled against your skin. It hurt. Everything hurt and you wanted to puke so hard your intestines fell out of your mouth. You wanted to be gruesome and unsightly. You wanted to be swallowed whole by absolutely anything at this point. Unrequited love was too much to bear. Ashley was gone. Luis was dead. You had no one to lean on while you wept so hard you began to choke and gag. The arms that wrapped around your trembling form were so warm and, even if it was Leon’s, you were desperate for comfort.

“Please, please don’t pick her over me. I can’t live with that. You’re not allowed to break my heart like that. You’re supposed to fall for me.” Your hands came up to grip the material of his black shirt, “I want you, Leon. More than anything and if you pick her, then you pick wrong.”

Your conviction was solid. It had to be you and no one else because who better to understand exactly what he was going through than you? The world could end tomorrow, but all that would matter was that he wanted you more than he ever thought of her. You both could fail this mission, you could become parasitic with the rest of them, but you would know he loved you more. It was a simple choice. You or her and you hoped to god he would choose you any day in any lifetime.

Leon was silent, however. His grip never wavered, but he was in deep thought. Then he pulled back from you and you lifted your head. He leveled his gaze with you. There was something unreadable on his face. His touch was ever so gentle and you swore you would melt if he were any softer. One of his hands reached up to caress your cheek with calloused fingertips. You shuddered, leaning into his touch. As you closed your eyes, you pictured spring and flowers and his smile belonging to you. It was perfect and so were the lip brushing against yours as your eyes fluttered open. There was no time to react; you could only accept his lips pressing against your own in a gentle kiss. There were no sparks, no fireworks, only something akin to the gentle warmth of a fireplace. After what felt like eternity, he pulled away.

“It wasn’t like you gave me a choice anyhow. The moment I looked in your eyes for the very first time, I was fucked.” He chuckled, thumb brushing against your supple cheek as he leaned his forward against your own. You could hardly contain the tears of joy that flooded you now. It felt almost too good to be true, but sometimes that is just the way it goes.

“Good because I was prepared to give a whole speech about it.”

“Powerpoint, too?”

#leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil leon #leon kennedy #now im on tumblr bc i enjoy writing again #my works

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bu-blegh-ost · 7 months

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Chip's and Ollie's relationship is so special to me.

There is a boy who made a mistake, hid in a wrong place at the wrong time and got sent on an adventure he never wanted to take, nor was he ready for. A child, who initially only wants to go home, back to his previous life.

And of course, there is a young Man, who's life got changed for the better after taking a kind pirate's hand. A person who desires nothing else but to be someone like this for the boy. One that desires to repay for the kindness he received, to be someone like this to another kid just like him. A young Man, who slowly realises that the boy he took along is not like him. That unlike him he Has a family and a home, someone to go back to. And he slowly comes to terms With the harm he caused by trying to keep him close. That he loved selfishly and will have to let go.

But something changes along the way. Ollie Discovers things about himself that the never knew he Had in him. For the first time in his life he feels important, like he Has a purpose. He sees the love the crew is giving him and forms attachment. Starts loving Chip just as strongly as he loves him. And he doesn't want to let go of his hand anymore. He wants to go home, but he doesn't want to loose the new family he gained. And more than anything, he doesn't want their journey to end.

Chip sees this and knows this can't continue. Jay's words echo in his mind. "It may be too late for you or me, but it's not for him. He deserves a normal childhood, not this." And can Chip truly raise a child? Can he really be what he needs most? Here in the middle of an ocean, with death lurking around every corner? Chip knows he's not. It Hurts, but he knows. And he loves Ollie too much to be selfish. Not this time. But one thing he can tell him. "You're not gonna loose us. You're not. I promise." And as he looks at these big sad eyes of a kid that already misses him, despite being right there, he knows this to be true.

And Ollie comes home, but Chip knows he's not gonna stay for long. Cause Ollie knows the life of a pirate now. He craves it, and he changed. For so much better. He's so Smart, happy and bright. He shines so much brighter then the first time He saw him. But with all of that comes a risk. Cause Ollie will return to Sea. And his mother will loose the Third loved one to that sea. No one can stop Ollie from that call. And the fault lies in those who showed him its magic. And Chip can feel all of it in that single strike to the face from a woman that's already grieving the boy she just got back. But this time Chip will take responsibility. This time he won't let Ollie drown. Not on his watch.

...

Chip lies awake at night in the capital of a broken country, devastated by the blackness of the sea that surrounds them. He feels his consciousness slipping from his body...slowly...you could almost miss it. But it's there. Less and less of him every day. But he holds on regardless. And he doesn't intend to stop trying, keep holding on. Cause he Has people to save, friends to support, so much left to do. He closes his eyes and tries to think. About an old goliath pirate's welcoming embrace, a soft touch of a hand of the girl with fiery hair, and the big soft smile of a triton with coral on his head. But most of all he thinks about a small boy with big green eyes, looking at him with both Hope and sadness, silently begging him to come back home. And he will. He will. In the quiet of the night, Chip repeats the words he once said to the boy like a mantra, hoping he can somehow hear them from the miles of distance that seperate them. "You're not gonna loose us. You're not."

"You're not gonna loose me."

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #chip jrwi #jay jrwi #gillion jrwi #jrwi spoilers #jrwi ollie #ollie jrwi

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

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The More You Give ❧ (Part III)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Grinding, oral (f receiving), finger action, spitting, Eddie gets a little touch, cum eating (yup), increasingly dom!Eddie and sub!reader. Eddie has been beat up a whole bunch in the past, bullying, Eddie’s special way of dealing with bullies involves aggressive flirting, consequently some homophobia, general worries and a bit of insecurity for both of them, touch of sub drop. Not a warning but Eddie is on track to be a famous musician in this fic and nobody will stop me.

Word count | ~9,650

A/N | If anything could define reader, it’s that she has constant romantic epiphanies, including while Eddie is between her legs. Only the second date, you say? Not important to reader. She’s hopped up on poetry and Eddie’s smile.

Taglist | Previous Chapter

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You could get used to Eddie at your door. Even as you are now, in a comfy sweater and shorts, he is looking you up and down like you’re dressed to the nines. Butterflies fill your stomach when he flashes his dimples and your fingers twitch with the want to touch his pink cheeks.

“All ready, Princess?”

“Almost.” You need to pack everything you’d prepared, grab your shoes, but you feel stuck fast to your front step, staring at him and chewing the inside of your lip. You wish he’d just kissed you right away. It feels like you’ve been waiting for it every second since you felt his lips last.

Maybe you could ask. Eddie wouldn’t mind. He’d probably like it. But how do you request that sort of thing?

Eddie lets you stare at him uninterrupted for a few seconds, then leans in till his eyes are right by yours. “Anything I can do to help out?” At your shaking head, he nods contemplatively, then glances to the side with his eyes and back, lips pursing in a smile. One eye closes like he has you all figured out. “You want something else from me first?”

You nod, sighing happily when he leans in more. You feel the smile in his kiss. It is a gentle reminder that Eddie likes you just as much as you like him, even in the moments you can’t say everything you want to. You give in to the want of your hands to touch his face, feeling his warmth against your palms. Eddie hums as he pulls away, tongue emerging to lick at his top lip that was just held by yours.

You press your face to his chest, getting a proper hit of what wearing his hoodie this morning had only given you hints of. “I-” A deep, slow breath of him, your mind settling into the fact that it’s Eddie with you. Your voice is muffled by his t-shirt. “I missed you.”

It’s been less than a day, he could say. Or, more devastating, but equally possibly, okay, getting a little clingy.

But it’s Eddie, and no matter what niggling voices suggest, he never would.

“Yeah?” His brown eyes are warm. “Fucking hell, I missed you, too. Waiting all morning to see you was torture.”

You close your eyes and let yourself indulge in being held by Eddie a little longer. Then he waits for you outside while you pack up everything you prepared this morning, a couple sandwiches, pieces of fruit, a pack of cookies. You grab the tape Eddie made you from your walkman, too, tucking it back in its case. You wave to your parents, sitting in the back garden, and rush back through the house before your Mom can get your Dad up from his deck chair.

Eddie’s hand finds yours easily as he takes off up your street. “How’s my girl today?” He asks. “You have a good morning?”

“Listened to my tape.”

“No shit, already? You listened to the whole thing?”

You hum. In fact, you listened to the whole thing three times over. You’d drifted awake with the early Summer sun, anticipation too sweet to fall back to sleep. You’d listened to it in your bed, while you made lunch, and while you were getting ready.

“What, uh, what did you think?” Confident, relaxed Eddie is sitting with unusual tension in his loose limbs. His eyes are steadfastly fixed on the road, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.

“I liked Flight of Icarus.”

Eddie grins, looking pleased with himself. “I thought you might be into that one. Your kinda thing, right?” You swing your feet, thinking about Eddie making choices with your interests in mind. The thought of him deciding, pleased with himself, to include a song about a Greek myth for you to listen to, to help you find your feet in his interest. It makes you want to lay kisses all over his pretty pink cheeks. “Any other favourites I should know about?”

You fish the tape from your bag to get another look at the track list. “Oh. Last Rose of Summer.”

It didn’t sound like metal at all, until you realised it was more the band that played it than this song in particular that tied it to the genre. A lilting, gentle voice, lyrics that made you cover your face with the sleeves of Eddie’s hoodie. “There’s actually-” You tap your feet a little, reminding yourself that Eddie wants to know these things, wants to know about you. “I think it’s a reference to a Thomas Moore poem.”

“Are you kidding? And you like him?” Eddie grins when you nod. “Knew Judas Priest would come through for me.”

“Mm. Some of their stuff was…”

“Oh, they can be intense, for sure. That’s what I like about ‘em, but yeah, I didn’t expect you to like all of it. And I bet you listened on a walkman, too.”

“While I made cookies.”

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s about to complete a thought, then closes it and rests his head back on the seat. “Okay. I mean, Jesus.” He shakes his head, laughing. “I guess I wanna say first that you’re the sweetest thing to ever walk the earth.”

You tuck your knees together, shrugging even as a shy, pleased smile makes its way to your lips.

“But my point was gonna be, the music on that tape was not made to be listened to through headphones. It’s made for stereos, blasting it loud enough to piss off the neighbours, not to be right into the delicate ears of Princesses.” Eddie squeezes your hand. “But I wasn’t expecting that of you, either. And you know, the best, the fucking best, is always to see them live. Judas Priest were the first band I ever saw. At the end,” Eddie brings his hand from yours to his neck, wrapping his thumb in the chain there to display the black plectrum. “Glenn Tipton, the guitarist? He threw this into the crowd. I’d never had a shred of luck but it landed right at my feet and it felt like- like, fate, you know? I dove for it and once I had it in my hand.” He wraps a shaking fist around it tight, knuckles going pale. “I wasn’t letting go for anyone. Some of the guys in the crowd even got me on the ground, kicking me and shit, trying to get me to drop it. Just gave up when they realised I wasn’t ever gonna give it to ‘em.”

“That’s awful.”

“Pretty metal of me though, right?” Eddie turns with a grin, eyes crinkled at the sides and you see he’s so genuinely proud. “I think it could be worth quite a lot, actually. It was their first tour when they really blew up in America in seventy-eight.”

You blink. “How…old were you?”

“Uh, thirteen I think? Had to sneak in. And got caught, obviously. Gave a roadie three ounces not to rat me out; was paying Rick back for months. Didn’t matter, it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. And it was so, entirely, endlessly worth it. This thing has gotta be lucky. I mean, just look at me now.” Eddie brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles three times, twice fast and the final long. “What more could a metalhead want?”

Eddie knows the lake well, apparently. Not because he spends a lot of time doing the activities Lovers’ Lake is associated with, he assures, after playing for a minute that he’s trying to stop you going into a jealous rage. “You gotta believe me,” he says, pulling your entire body to him dramatically, wrapping an arm around your waist and tipping you back. “They didn’t mean anything, all those thousands of girls. If I’d known you were round the corner for me, I’d have been beating them away with a stick. You gotta see that!” Only when you give him a played up, cute little scowl, does his game fall apart. He scrunches his nose, shrugs sheepishly and tells you that his supplier lives on the East side of the lake and there’s a pretty little spot where he smoked weed for the first time with three other boys set to become drug dealers.

"It's a very special place for me," Eddie explains wistfully when you’ve begun the walk. He guides you over a fallen tree, the hand not holding yours out in front of you, ready for catching. "Picture the guy you see now, a foot and a half shorter, hair buzzed, lacking all the sweet tatties, acting tough and trying to pretend he hadn’t just coughed up a lung smoking for the first time. It happened right here."

It’s not as hard as he might think. You remember when he first moved to Hawkins, suddenly seeing him in the halls, your eleven year old brain marking him down as ‘cute older boy.’ Sometimes you’d see him holding doors open for women, or carrying his guitar around, little things that made him a little cuter.

Once, you spied him rushing into the boys’ bathroom with one hand grasping his stomach, the other over his nose, blood trailing down his chin, dripping red on his shirt.

You listen to Eddie ramble happily about this place, and wonder with a wave of surprising frustration why he isn’t angry all the time. You know so many angry boys, and Eddie has a right to it more than any of them. How can somebody have been hurt so often, treated so poorly, and still end up holding your hand like this? Smiling like that? Talking gently, understanding, kissing sweetly. It doesn’t make sense.

"Only other person that comes out here is Rick, but he's not likely to be up this early."

"Oh, I don't want to get you in trouble."

Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, dimples deep in his cheeks. "I really don't think that’s something we need to worry about, sweet girl."

You emerge at a perfect little patch of grass by the edge of the water, arched by full trees. There's some evidence of previous trips here, but the roaches that scatter the ground are covered over easily by Eddie spreading out the blanket you brought. He holds your hand and guides you down to it, waiting until you’re settled and looking up at him to drop ungracefully at your side.

You drink quickly warming beer, eat sandwiches and listen to Eddie talk about his band, formed soon after that Judas Priest concert, though not to be very good for some years after.

"I mean, it felt so huge, playing a real gig the first time, even if it was just for a couple of drunks who hated every minute.” You chew through bread, meat and lettuce while Eddie speaks, his own sandwich held half way to his mouth like he’s about to take a bite but never quite managing through his impassioned speech. “And after a while, it was like, oh shit I think we’re actually kinda good? I really think, when we’ve all graduated, if I really work at it...” He shrugs a little shyly, takes a bite of the sandwich and makes a quick face of approval as he swallows. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m just so sure we could do it, go places. I know everyone thinks that, but it’s still true.”

You think he has to go places. You can’t imagine the injustice of Eddie staying in Hawkins forever. That, too, would make no sense.

“I wish you could come see us,” he admits, taking larger bites of his lunch and chewing loudly. “I’d play you Flight of Icarus and Last Rose of Summer, if you did. The guys might not be that into the second one, but if they knew it was for you, they’d be cool with it. Jeff really likes you, did you know that?”

Jeff has been in your grade since you were five, and you remember him when he was the quietest boy in that grade. You’d half bonded through that, understanding eye contact when called on to speak by teachers, the shared frustration of being those kids paired up with the most monstrous boys in the hope of being a good influence.

But when you’d had May, and then Heather, to do some of the talking for you, Jeff didn’t really have anyone. Maybe that was until Eddie and the others. While you’d stayed firmly in your shell, Jeff seemed to have emerged from his. He’s been your lab partner in every Chemistry class since the first year you got to choose, and he’s always the one to answer questions on behalf of your little team.

“I like him.”

“We could all hang out, you know, if you came to a show.”

You nod earnestly. “I do want to, Eddie.”

“This girl’s parents can’t miss one date night?” He asks, eyes flicking between his food and you, hoping you’ll say yes.

“Grace’s Mom does night classes,” you explain. The end of her course seems so far away, and you don’t want to assume that Eddie thinks you’ll still be dating months from now, but you hate the dejected look on his chewing face enough to take the risk. “But they’ll probably let out around the holidays?”

Eddie swallows the last bite of his sandwich and taps his knees excitedly. “You know, that sounded something like a promise.”

“It was.”

Eddie looks so pleased and excited at the prospect that your heart flutters, seeing the certainty he has that he’ll still want to see you, months from now. You let yourself think about the prospect of having Eddie like this for longer, into the New Year. Maybe, the one after that and the one after that. The thought is so nice you could cry.

You split a couple satsumas, handing Eddie pieces for him to pop into his mouth between sentences. When they’re done, Eddie side eyes the cookies in tupperware, waiting for you to offer one.

“Eddie,” you finally say, holding back a laugh. “Would you like a cookie?”

He blinks, tilts his head forward and puts those wide brown eyes to use. “Since I drove us, and found what has to be the most romantic date spot, I think, maybe, I deserve two cookies?”

Through your giggles, the thought strikes, pleasant and scary in equal measure. It’s going to be so easy, falling in love with him.

“You look real pretty today, did I tell you that?” Eddie says with his mouth full of crumbs. He looks so boyish and earnest with it that you press your chin to your shoulder. “And your eyes, you know. I mean, they’re great as they are, but the colours and stuff always look so cool.”

You wiggle your hips happily, tap your stretched out feet. He means the colourful eyeshadow you like, sometimes glittery or blended colours. Today it’s just a pale pink, but it’s one of your favourites. “I like eyeshadow and stuff. It’s way more fun than other makeup.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. If I wore makeup I’d do it like yours. Avoid the boring shit.”

With Eddie’s eyes, you think he might suit it better than most girls do. You wonder if he’d ever try it. You look through your lashes at Eddie’s doe eyes, his pink cheeks and pouty lips. You wouldn’t say it to other boys, but the way Eddie styles himself, you think maybe he might like the suggestion.

“You’d suit eyeliner.”

Eddie’s face splits into a conspiratorial grin as he leans in, hair falling prettily over his shoulders. “I tried it before. For a gig.” His nose scrunches, and he tilts his head. “Poked myself in the eye like nine times. Didn’t look so good through the tears.”

You flinch at the second story of Eddie in pain today, even if this one sounds far less traumatising. Circling a finger on your leg, you look up at him and down again a couple times. “I could- I could show you how, if you wanted.”

“I’d rather you sat on my lap and did it for me.” He crouches his back until he’s looking up at your shy face, eyes sparkling. “Would you like that?”

You shrug, looking away from him before finding his eyes again and nodding.

“Yeah? Maybe when we’re on tour someday that can be your job. Just sit on my lap once a day and get me show ready.” He swallows the last bite of his cookie and leans back with a sigh, resting his head on his hand. “Travel the world, come to all my shows. And you could just read poetry all day, if you wanted.”

You lie down next to him, resting your head on his outstretched arm. Since he’s dreaming, you try, too. “I wanna write about poetry. Translate it.”

“That’s cool. Is that your plan for college?”

You sigh, the daydream fading. You play with the sleeve of your sweater. “Wouldn’t make any money.”

Eddie directs an incredulous look at you. “You know how much famous guitarists make, sweetheart? You don’t worry your sweet little head about shit like money. Just wait, I’ll look after you.”

You turn on your side to look at him properly, find him staring at the tree tops and blinking, lips pressed together and nose scrunched. “Am I being too intense?”

“No.”

“I’ve been told I can be too much too soon.”

Your heart aches to hear that. “Wasn’t too much.”

He looks at you then, searching for a lie. Instead he finds the beginning of something he doesn’t want to name. There’s still time for this to go wrong, like it generally does for him. Eddie’s chest rises and falls in a deep sigh. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

You can’t imagine he could. Not him, who has worked out how to talk to you, and how to listen, so easily and with such speed it astounds you. You tuck yourself closer to him until you can count the tiny, barely there freckles on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t too much,” you repeat.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh. Eddie’s eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. “Come here, then.”

You shiver, moving yourself into his space until he directs you up, settling you over his lap, your face close to his. Eddie’s hands come to your cheeks, thumb sliding across your skin. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of being held by him.

Eddie wraps a hand around the back of your neck and draws you to him, giving you a kiss that deepens almost immediately, his tongue licking quick at your bottom lip until you let him taste you and taste him back. A little beer, mainly the chocolate and sweet crumbs of your baking.

This could be heaven. The late afternoon heat cooled by the breeze over the lake. The sound of lapping water and birds singing, being touched, held, kissed by Eddie. His hands find your hips, encouraging you to drop your weight on him, the memory of last night coming hot and fast. You clench inside at the thought of it, wanting that again, wanting it right now.

Eddie groans into your mouth when you take the initiative to roll your hips. His lips drift from your mouth to your jaw, nipping just a little. “Sweetheart,” he presses wet kisses down your neck. “S-say you want me to look after you. Please?”

Your hips roll, wet between your thighs. “I want, oh,” Eddie’s teeth graze the place where your neck meets your collar, his tongue following soon after. “Eddie.”

Eddie grunts, sitting up and bringing you with him until you’re upright, his hand clasping the back of your neck. It’s like he’s learned, noticed it yesterday, how docile that makes you feel. Your eyes move slowly between his left and his right, so wide, so brown, crinkled at the sides with his beautiful smile.

“Go on,” he whispers, pressing a short kiss to your lips before he dives back to your neck, letting your head tilt back with the support of his hand at the base. You hear the distant sound of a boat engine, whirring over the water. You watch the gentle sway of leaves above, swaying with them as your body gives in to Eddie’s direction.

“Will you look after me, Eddie? Please?”

His breath is shaky against your neck. You can feel his nod from the way his hair brushes your chin. “Yes, sweetheart. As long as you’ll let me.”

Your heart cries out, forever and ever and ever and ever.

An engine sputters as a whistle, piercing and strong, rings out across the water. “You know why they call it Lovers Lake, right!?”

Obnoxious laughter follows as you tense up in Eddie’s arms, jerking from his mouth in shock and scrambling off his lap before you can form a thought about how it might make him feel.

“Holy shit- Is that the Freak? Didn’t know you had it in you, Munson!”

You glance up, hoping they’re far away and not approaching. It’s three men, fishing rods in hand despite their young age, already turning into their fathers. You recognise them, vaguely, from your earlier years at Hawkins High, and realise they must have been in Eddie’s grade.

They barely look at you, and it dawns easily that, more than anything, this is an opportunity for them to get at Eddie. He leans back on his arms, tosses his hair over his shoulders and grins coquettishly.

“Well, I’d have shown you if I’d known you were interested, big boy!”

The laughter stops abruptly, replaced by disgusted expressions.

“That’s- God, you really are a freak.”

“Is that you, Scott? Oh have I missed you. Always know the right kinda dirty talk that gets me going.” Eddie winks, rubbing a hand up his thigh towards his crotch.

You’re staring with wide eyes, amazed at him, how easily he’s made them uncomfortable without even throwing an insult.

“You’re a degenerate, Munson.”

“Oh fuck yeah, keep going.”

“Jesus- let’s just go. Don’t wanna catch whatever he’s spreading.”

At this, a steely blue gaze finally finds you. You expect to be mocked, but instead the ringleader, the first one to insult Eddie so terribly, just looks worried. “A nice girl like you. You wanna be more careful about who you hang around with.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something, but not able to find any words before their engines starts up again, too loud to speak over. You watch them sail across the lake in silence, playing with your fingers as shame crawls up the back of your neck.

“Eddie, are you alright?” While you rub your pointer fingers, Eddie stands quickly, closing open boxes and packing them away into the bag. After a few seconds of silence, your heart starts to ache. “That was- Please say you’re alright.”

“I don’t give a shit about what some future loafer wearing, nine-to-five stock broker cunts think of me, if that’s what you’re asking.” He spies your watering eyes and sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

“Okay. We can do something else, then.” He gives you a strained smile, not quite looking at you while you stand up after him. The second you’re off the blanket, he’s sweeping it off the ground, rolling it up against his body. “Whatever you want.”

"Please stop.” But everything is gathered, ready to leave already. “It- it’s not because it's you."

"I told you before,” he says, eyes cold despite his words. “It's okay if it is."

"No!" Frustrated tears rise quickly, making your knees shake. "It's not that! It’s not! It's just- I can't-" You make a frustrated noise, all the shame involved in every memory of your past relationship building in your chest even as you're trying to expel it. You cover your eyes with your hands, wishing, wishing, wishing you could just talk. You feel devastated to have ruined this, knowing you should have stayed close to him, defended him. Now he thinks you’re a coward. Worse, that you’re ashamed of him, and it hurts. You feel your hands shake while you whisper. “Please, believe me.”

It takes a second, but you feel Eddie's hands, gentle, on your wrists. "Look at me," he says, helping you drop them and bending at the knees until he's staring into your wet eyes. "There's my girl." Relief floods through you at Eddie’s gentle smile. "You don't have to explain anything to me, okay?”

Oh. He doesn’t believe you. “No. No. It’s not-” You curl your fingers into fists. “You have to understand.”

Eddie watches your desperate face, the pleading way you’re looking at him. “Okay. Okay, if you say it's something else, then it’s something else. Alright?” He wraps you up in his arms, your face hidden in his neck. “Let's go back to mine, yeah?"

In the van, Eddie drives a little slower than usual. He grabs the tape you left in the van, putting it on full blast so there's no pressure for you to speak. While you wallow, his fingers tap against the steering wheel, and it takes you a couple minutes to realise he isn't drumming along, but moving his fingers to follow the progression of the guitar chords.

And then he smiles at you, still a little sad, but earnest, and you know you have to try and get the explanation out, no matter what you end up saying, no matter how your nervous mouth says it.

You take a long, shaky breath and turn the volume down low. Eddie turns to look at you in your periphery but you keep your eyes on the peeling texture on his glove compartment.

“The first time Andy kissed me, I-” You twist your fingers in your sleeves. “I moaned, or something, I guess. I was kind of drunk, and tired, and I…liked it. I didn’t think it was-” Your eyes squeeze shut, toes curling at the memory. “I forgot about it, but then at school, the girls all started making these noises at me, moaning when sat down at lunch. ‘Cause they knew. He’d told his friends, and they’d told their girlfriends, and they all knew about this dumb thing I did. And he- it was like, I should have expected it. Like, of course he told them, he tells them everything. But it just meant-” You rub a sleeve over your eyes, no doubt losing some of the pretty pink shadow Eddie had liked so much. “It was like being watched. Nothing was private, nothing was special. How was I supposed to ever let him touch me, when he’d just go and tell them everything? I couldn’t. But then everyone knew when he was angry with me. And why he dumped me.”

It’s easy to let Eddie touch you. As easy as falling asleep after a long day.

“Sweetheart-”

“It isn’t like that with you, Eddie. But it has to just be you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, hand finding your sleeve until your fingers emerge and he can link them up. “Of course, baby. Jesus Christ, that son a bitch- and then he wrote that shit on your locker!?”

Who knows if it was him, or one of his friends? They’re all the same, in it together.

“No wonder you were so shaken up the first time. And then I just assumed you were- shit.” Eddie shakes his head, lips pressing together. “I’m sorry, sweet thing. I think, maybe, I’m tryna deal with some of my own stuff too, you know? I want it to work so bad- I want you so fucking bad. You were sitting there, worried out your mind, and I was caught up in convincing myself you’d realised that this doesn’t make any sense.” He drags a hand through his hair, leaving it frizzy and wild at the front. “So we’re not gonna do stuff like that anymore, right? We gotta keep each other in the know when we’re scared, okay? Even if we think it’s tiny. And always listen, even if the listening is hard. Right?”

You nod emphatically, pressing your fingers against Eddie’s knuckles. “Yes, that’s- Yes.”

Eddie lets the agreement sit for a while, until you’re surrounded by the trees leading up to his home. You’re relaxing into the knowledge that Eddie understands, and that it was worth the shame of laying out that part of your life. While you’re ready to sigh in silent relief, Eddie huffs a little laugh.

You tilt your head at him, and Eddie glances at you to the side, realising he’s been caught..

“I’ve just gotta say,” he starts, the dimple that appears on his cheek signalling Eddie’s satisfaction. “It kinda makes me all tingly that you let me touch you kinda easy. Some basketball player acted like a piece of shit? Ruined his chance with you? Doesn’t matter cause you’ve got me, handing out sweet orgasms for your pretty cunt left and right-”

“Eddie!”

He overacts an elated shiver as he pulls into the trailer park. “Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff. I’m addicted to that sound.”

There’s a man on the porch of Eddie’s trailer, face surrounded by dispersing smoke. Eddie spots him and squeezes your hand. “That’s Wayne. He’s kinda quiet, might seem a little grumpy, but he’s even sweeter than you are deep down.”

Eddie grabs the bag of leftovers from your lap, jumping out of the van with well practised ease. When you climb out on the far side, Eddie waits for you with his hand outstretched at the front of his van, wiggling fingers inviting you to hold on to him. Grasping his big palm tight, you let Eddie walk you up to his Uncle, who nods a greeting at you before looking at Eddie.

“Good day?”

“Oh yeah, we went to the lake. This sweet girl made us a little picnic. What about you?”

Wayne hums, shrugs. “There’s fresh coffee if you want it,” he says, tilting the mug in his hand. “I’ll be heading out soon, Eddie.”

“Sure. We thought we’d hang out here for a while before I take her home.”

Wayne hums again, nods a goodbye while Eddie pulls you away.

“Um, it was nice to meet you,” you try.

“And yourself.”

He watches, blowing out more smoke, while Eddie holds the door open for you to run inside, your face warm.

Eddie reaches up for two of the many mugs hanging on the wall, shaking one at you in question until you nod, then he starts pouring coffee while you stand in the middle of his kitchen with one foot tucked over the other. “Milk? Sugar?”

You mumble your preference, then, with a sudden hit of regret. “I forgot to introduce myself.”

Eddie shakes his head, taking a slug of black coffee. “Wayne knows who you are, sweetheart.” You blink owlishly when he hands you the mug, and Eddie shrugs, his soft cheeks growing pink. “I mean, he was here this morning so, I, you know, told him about yesterday. Not everything, obviously, left out the…stuff that’s just for us.” His dimples appear when he hands you a moss green mug. “And I mentioned you before, a few months ago. Had to give him an explanation for why I was suddenly so into Austrian poetry, didn’t I? The man had his hand on my forehead checking for fever.”

Eddie makes your heart flutter. You didn’t know being with somebody could feel like this. That everything they did could make you want them more and more. But even the way Eddie leans back on the counter, displaying his long torso and legs, looking so domestic with his pink face and mug, makes you want to kiss him all over his pretty face.

While you and Eddie drink, your eyes drift to and from each other. Soft, knowing smiles appear and fade every time you make eye contact over your mugs. Neither of you say it, but the knowledge is firm, almost physical in the room. You’re waiting, with gentle impatience, for the sound of Wayne’s car pulling away.

When stones crunch under tyres outside, Eddie sits up from the counter and grabs the half empty mug from your hand to rest it where his hips had been. “C’mon, sweet thing.”

Your head feels light, following Eddie through to his room, watching him sit on the edge of his bed and open his arms for you. Tension you didn’t know you were holding drops from your shoulders. You whine softly, climbing up onto his lap with your knees on the mattress, your feet hanging off the sides. Your mouth finds Eddie’s with ease with his hand appearing on your cheek to direct you.

The taste of coffee is bitter. The taste of Eddie is sweeter than anything.

“You know what I was thinking about, before those pricks interrupted?” Eddie’s voice vibrates across your skin as he kisses down your neck, landing exactly where he was when you froze up. Your little negative sound has his lips curling, a soft hum sounding from the back of his throat. “Wanted to get these shorts off, lay you back and finally get a taste of your little pussy.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling slick and hot everywhere, but mostly at the place where Eddie wants to go. “But since we’re here, I think we can take off a little more, mm? How’s that sound?”

You press your face to his neck, trapping some of his hair there, breathing in so much Eddie that your thoughts fuzz and blend together. “C’mon, sweetheart. This first, yeah?” He tugs on the hem of your sweater, and you lean back to let him tug it over your head, revealing the pretty pastel of your bra, the little butterfly charm hanging between the cups. Wet kisses trail over the curve of your breasts, sometimes giving you a graze of teeth, the hot wet sting of his tongue.

“Gonna need you to stand up, baby. Just for a minute, I promise,”

Your unhappy mewl fades with a long lick of his tongue up your throat, the excited shiver it draws up your spine. Your hands find his shoulders, his soft hair tickling your wrists.

Eddie leans down to grasp your ankle, bringing your foot up to his thigh and resting it there. He pulls at the laces of your sneaker before working it off your foot, hooking his finger into your sock to take that off too. His pink lips curve at the sparkly polish on your nails, and he helps you bring your foot back down to work off the other shoe.

Eddie’s beautiful face is set in concentration while he works at the button of your shorts and pulls them down. His pink tongue peaking out, pressing to his top lip. He stares your mound, cupped by decorated cotton, a little vinyl butterfly sitting just under the band. His eyes trail up your body, landing on your adoring face. “You always match ‘em up, or are all these butterflies for little old me?”

You can’t resist. You bring a hand to his forehead, brushing some of his hair back from the heated skin just to feel it, soft under your fingers. To see Eddie's eyes, wide and excited, flutter at your touch.

Eddie’s sweet attention has you reaching that hand behind you, followed by the other, unhooking your bra at the back and letting it fall easily from your arms to the floor. He watches your face for another few seconds, waiting for your nervous smile before his gaze finds your chest.

Eddie’s groan is cut off when his mouth meets the plush skin, your fingers tangling in his hair, pressing to his scalp when he finds your nipple and brings it between his pretty lips. Your body jumps, torso tilting to offer it up to him, his tongue flicking and lathing at the sensitive peak.

Eddie drags his face across your chest to mess with the other side, making little, satisfied noises which mix pleasantly with the wet sound of his lapping tongue. You moan into the air at the warm of his lips, his encasing mouth leaving the nipple sensitive and pebbled. Eddie hums, licks a stripe up the middle of your tits, and rests his chin on your décolletage to blink at your pleasured face. “Wanna get on the bed f’me?”

Eddie helps you settle yourself, head comfy and supported by what he assures is the best pillow, throwing the other off the bed dismissively like it's not worthy of your head. He climbs over you then, his hair falling around your face until you reach up to tuck it round one side of his neck. Eddie kisses your wrist with his eyes closed. Then you stare at each other, letting the anticipation build while you map facial features and what a person’s eyes look like when you're in the process of falling.

You're first to break, the slick place between your legs that is hot only for Eddie forcing you tug on the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn't hesitate, pulling it up from his back and off.

You wish you'd asked for this yesterday.

Eddie is all pale and pink skin, a dusting of dark hair across his chest and down his lean but soft stomach. The tattoos you'd seen on his arms continue to his torso. A demon and a spider collected just under his neck, Corroded Coffin under his last right rib, a laughing skull just above his hip.

"You like 'em?" Eddie asks proudly when your finger follows one leg of the spider.

You hum a yes. "Did they hurt?"

"Oh yeah, real bad, but it's okay cause I mean, I'm pretty tough." You giggle at his expression which begs you to be impressed. "Oh that's funny, huh? What you trying to say, girly? You don't think I'm tough?"

Your mirth fades, giving way to gentle fondness. Your heart pounds the way you think it might for others when they’re about to admit to a crime. Things like this are still so difficult, even after you told Eddie that you only want him to know you like this, even after Eddie told you he dreams of a future with you in it. That’s the reason you have to say it anyway. Eddie deserves everything you can give him. "I think you're…lovely."

Sitting back on his legs, Eddie pulls a chunk of dark hair across his face. "Me?” You nod and he drops his hair, pressing his chin to his shoulder coquettishly and fluttering his eyelashes until you giggle. He leans over you, then, drawing kisses across your neck and chest. “Well, I think you're lovely, too." A quick suck of a pebbled nipple just to hear you gasp. He looks up at you, blinking slow as the kisses trail further down. "The loveliest there is." Below your breasts, above your belly button, your hips by the elastic of your underwear.

Your mound, hidden by cotton, his kisses hot enough to sting through fabric. Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose, eyelids fluttering. Slowly, he brings his hands to your thighs, pressing until your body is open and waiting for him.

"You're shaking."

You are. In your thighs and your hands where they are clasped together at your collar. "I'm okay."

Eddie fixes you with a serious look. "You say the word and we stop, okay? I mean it."

"Don't want to stop."

He breathes through his nose, smiles gently. His finger trails along where elastic meets your thigh. He rests his cheek on the cotton. "I can’t take it anymore,” he says, soft tone a contrast to his words. “These are simply just too sexy.” Your lilac butterfly panties, cotton and comfy. You fight another giggle. “So I'm gonna take ‘em off now, ‘kay?"

"Mm."

Eddie continues the catlike rub of his cheek, thumb playing with the elastic waistband of your panties like he’s plucking a guitar string. “Then I’m gonna taste your pretty pussy.” The eye contact he gives you is intense, contributing to the shivers of anticipation running along your spine as much as his words. His fingers hook into your waistband while he sits up, dragging it down off your hips, keeping his eyes on yours as they travel past your thighs. “And while I’m playing with your sweet little cunt.” He pulls your panties off your feet and glances at them briefly before they disappear behind his back. Eddie reaches for your hands, grasps your wrists and directs them down until they are tangled at the top of his hair. “You’re gonna help me out, yeah? Tell me what you like with these hands.”

Eddie’s gaze drops to your cunt as he lowers his face to it, his hands caressing the inside of your thighs. He grins, eyes slight, and presses his cheek to your mound again, feeling the soft curls of hair against his face. He nuzzles his nose in, kisses your mound. “Does that sound good, angel face?”

Your pussy throbs and your heart aches. You want him, want him, want him. In this way and in every way. Want him in bed, to touch and to be touched, to fall asleep tucked together, or curled up at his side. Want him in this room and yours, listening to him, forcing yourself to be listened to, or sitting in quiet activity, the same or different as long as you can hear him breathing. Want him in his van, at his gigs, sitting together at school. Want him in the library with you, at parties he isn’t invited to, sitting drinking smoothies with your friends.

But you can’t say that. Not you, and definitely not right now.

Instead, you brush his hair back from his forehead with one gentle hand, tangle your fingers tight to his scalp, and guide him to where he’s needed.

Eddie snickers, lips exploring the sensitivity of your cunt. He finds the centre of you and presses a kiss there, his tongue sneaking out to lap at the slick hole. Eddie groans at the back of his throat, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he presses his face deeper with a wiggle. His tongue presses at your soft entrance until the tip of it ventures inside, making you squirm and curl your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Your cunt squeezes around his exploring tongue, and Eddie pulls back, leaving a trail of spit and slick between his chin and your cunt to look you in the eye and speak with confidence. “Aww, she missed me.”

Your hips twitch and you tug at his hair so he’ll get back to it. His eyes shine while he draws his tongue, wide, hot and wet, up the entire length of your cunt, pleased at your show of desperation. When his tongue spreads warm spit over your twitching clit, your body is his. You fall back into the pillow at your head, legs relaxing open for him. “Eddie.”

“I know,” he murmurs, kissing your clit to feel the sweet little twitch between his lips. “I remember. She’s a sensitive little thing, hm? Think she needs some tender loving care?”

Your fingers stroke gently through the hair at his scalp. “Please,” you whisper, tears bubbling in your eyes, your cunt throbbing, your body crying out for him. “Please, please, please, plea-”

Your legs kick out when he latches onto your clit, giving it a torturously long suck that pulls at the sensitive nerves until tears are falling. His lapping tongue follows, the wet noises of his mouth on your cunt filling your head.

The pad of his middle finger circles your entrance and you clasp as his hair, nodding your acquiescence to the ceiling. He must see, because he presses inside, the slick you’re pouring easing the way for him. Your eyes roll back as the sick, sweet combination of Eddie’s tongue playing with your clit and the slight aching stretch of his finger inside you, pressing to the spot at the back of your cunt that makes your toes curl in the air.

Nothing feels like this. Eddie’s mouth on your clit feels gorgeous, his lips wrapping perfectly around it between flicks of his tongue, a new type of pleasurable kiss that comes with gentle suction and Eddie’s happy little groans. Your cunt flexes around Eddie’s finger like it’s trying to impress him, show him how good you’ll feel around his cock.

With a movement of his wrist, Eddie brings the torture to the most sensitive spot at the back of your cunt. Your legs seize. Eddie turns his face and licks horizontal stripes across your clit, letting it flick side to side on his tongue until the pleasure is tight and burning. Your fingers tense in his hair.

Another moan of his name carries through the air, long and high, while waves of ecstasy crash and peak, your whole body shaking and thankful for him. Your mind is a desperate loop of keep me, touch me, love me, please, please, please.

The waves settle, your fingers loosen and fall from him entirely, resting at your sides. Eddie sighs, and pulls his mouth from you, watching your body twitch through an aftershock, thighs involuntarily closing the second he’s sat up.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Eddie speaks through his teeth, forcing his hand back between your legs, squeezed between the softness of your thighs.

“Wh-Eddie!”

“Don’t ever hide from me.”

While his right hand rubs callused pads against your clit, his left finds your knee, presses it out and back until your cunt spreads, sticky and swollen for him. You gasp and shake, the build so much easier now that he’s playing with a button already made sensitive. Eddie watches your face, your eyes hazy, your mouth open and wanting him.

You’ll get him, but first Eddie directs his mouth to your cunt, removing his hand for just a second. Spit lands, with seemingly practised precision, on your desperate bud. You feel the glide of it downwards, pooling at your soft cunt. When Eddie’s hand returns, it’s with two fingers circling that hole, his thumb coming to give your clit some abuse. Eddie finds your gaze, and tilts his chin downwards.

His expression gives the game away, wide eyes and raised eyebrows an explicit question of permission to stretch you a little more.

You press your feet to the mattress, pushing yourself in the direction of his hand, and Eddie’s eyes pool to darkness, a barely there movement of his lips turning the comforting smile to a mocking one. Two thick fingers press inside your tight cunt, the stretch of it just the right side of painful after he’s made you so deliciously wet with his mouth. The ache of it, the prickling feeling in the back of your neck that, in some way, Eddie is preparing you for him, getting your body ready to be split by his cock, makes your hips desperate. You mewl for him to move his fingers a couple seconds before you’re truly ready. Eddie’s expression; intense, obsessive fascination, makes the sting feel just like pleasure does.

Eddie blinks slow, gaze travelling along your body. Your curled toes and tense legs, sodden cunt and tits bouncing with the movement of your hips. He finds your face, your wet eyes. “Man. You’re really mine, aren’t you?”

You feel it happening deep in your cunt before it reaches your clit, simmering there before it travels up your spine and makes you howl. Your clenching cunt soaks his hand, the sound of his fingers fucking you through your high entirely filthy but Eddie couldn’t love it more.

When you start to whine at the overstimulation of your nervy body, Eddie slows his hand, pulls his fingers from you with a loud sucking noise that makes you cover your face while he grins. More wet noises have you looking through your fingers to watch Eddie licking at his fingers like they’re covered in icing, eyes closed in bliss.

It makes your cunt clench, but there’s also a rising cold feeling to go with your shivering sweaty body and the ache between your legs. A thin layer of wetness appears in your eyes without your permission. You’ve felt this before, but now you know in your bones that solving this feeling is as easy as whispering, “Eddie.”

His eyes snap to you, reading your breath and the pleading look in your shining eyes. He’s moving in a second, retrieving your soft sweater from his floor and helping you sit up so he can pull it over your head. Eddie lays at your side and you watch him unbuckle his jeans and push them off ungracefully with wiggling hips and kicking legs, his tongue making an appearance to show his concentration. He directs you gently so he can untuck his duvet from under you and pull it over your bodies. Your legs tangle, bare feet meeting his wiggling toes trapped in socks. He pulls you in with a strong arm, presses his nose to yours and rubs them together until you’re giggling softly.

“Did I- It felt good, right?”

You nod, then push forward to rub his nose with yours again, earning yourself a return giggle.

“I’m obsessed with you,”.

You wiggle, unsure. “Didn’t do anything.”

“Uh, yeah you did, sweetheart. Did everything a good girl should. Trusted me to make you feel good.”

“Didn’t make you feel good.”

At this, Eddie’s smile turns salacious. “You think your thighs squeezing my head didn’t feel good?”

You huddle closer to hide against his chest. “Didn’t make you…you didn’t get to…”

“Mmm, sweet girl,” he kisses your sweaty temple. Eddie wraps your hand in his and guides it under the sheets, across the softness of his stomach to the top of his boxers. You look at him when he helps your fingers wiggle past the elastic and card through thick hair, whimpering at your first touch of his cock. He’s returning to softness, but you feel the girth of him under your searching fingers. Eddie’s eyes flutter, teeth grit at your touch on his sensitive cock. He holds your wrist at the band of his underwear until you find the tip of him and gasp softly at the pool of thick cum. You breathe each other’s breath as he pulls your hand free, clasping your wrist and bringing your hand between your faces. Eddie’s cum is thick, still warm and webbing between your fingers.

You watch Eddie’s tongue peak out and lathe over the pad of your first finger, pulling the end of it into his mouth and sucking himself away. He does this again, and again, until you are clean of his cum.

Eddie hums. “Not half as good as you, but I think you’ll like it.”

You press your face to his chest again, listening to his laugh above your head. Eddie wraps his arms around you and gives you a tight, boyish squeeze of a hug. “You need anything? Want anything? Water? A cookie?”

You shake your head, eyes drooping, wanting nothing more than to snooze with the feel and smell of him surrounding you. Eddie coos softly, strokes your hair and helps you settle, comfy and cosy, against his body and the mattress. You hear him fiddle with his watch behind your head, then feel him wiggle and relax next to you.

You sleep for less than an hour, his watch ringing out a rude awakening soon after you drift off, but the time in Eddie’s arms is worth a thousand easy lie-ins.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

“What’s going on with you today?” You blink away the memory of Eddie’s face over yours when he woke you up in his van after driving you home yesterday, the gentle shake of his head at your apology, the way he’d kissed you at the door.

Heather stands with her hands on her hips, the matching airy blouse and cream skirt making her look exactly as femininely refined as she wants to be, like Rosalynn Carter when she was the First Lady.

She’s planning an outfit for her acceptance speech, hopefully happening on Friday in front of the entire senior year. Her chances are good. The competition is twofold. Margot Hill, a nice, but forgetful, girl who forgot to show up to last week’s assembly when she was supposed to lay out her manifesto. Then there’s Fred Benson, who is smart and capable, but has managed to piss off the entire basketball team (and therefore their girlfriends) by writing a mockingly celebratory story for the school paper on a particularly humiliating game last year. Knowing the level of forgiveness displayed by that influential group, you suspect he may not even beat Margot.

“I’m sorry. You look perfect. Very refined.”

“But still, like, cool, right?”

You consider her, then nod. “With a belt, I think? And I can do your makeup Friday morning.”

Heather gives you a winning smile and disappears back into the mall changing room, closing the curtain behind her. After a second, her head pops back out. “What were you thinking about, before?”

You chew your lip and Heather, having known you for years now, recognises the signs of a secret waiting to be spilled. She looks intrigued, eyebrows raising in question.

“Eddie asked me out.”

Her mouth drops open. “No way. Did you say yes?” You nod, and she makes a surprised noise, disappearing behind the curtain again. “When did this happen?”

“Monday.”

There’s the sound of a zipper, followed by shifting fabric, then a pause. You can almost hear her working it out. “Wait,” there’s her face again, eyes wide. “Did you already go on a date?”

You nod again. “Twice.”

“No. Way!” A final vanishing behind the curtain, the sound of clinking hangers and then the metallic whir of the curtain moving over the rail. She holds the blouse and skirt combo in one hand, the rejected alternatives in the other. “So, wow. You really do like him, then?”

You take a deep breath, refusing to nod at this question. “I- I like him so much it hurts.”

“Have you told May?” The question is like a splash of cold water. You shake your head. “She’s going to lose her mind, you know that, right?”

You had been considering that this afternoon. The way Eddie is, really is, all boyish smiles and consideration, it was easy to forget what people think of him, what May thinks of him. But Eddie is important to you now in a million ways.

The thought of losing his hugs, his kisses, his eyes gazing into yours, makes your heart sore. The thought of losing his touch between your legs makes your entire body ache. The thought of hurting him, pulling away after you’d given and taken so much of each other already. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

“I think I can explain it in a way...that will make her understand.”

There’s a pause, then Heather snorts. “You’re going to explain it.” That hurts, just a little, but her disbelief is not entirely misplaced. “You’re going to explain it to May. The least understanding person, maybe in the world?”

“Don’t say that.” This has been happening increasingly.

“She doesn’t even understand why I’m dating Patrick! Oh no, if a boy doesn’t play basketball, or isn’t at the very least popular, May’s got no time for him.”

You curl your fingers in your skirt, never knowing what to do when either of them acts like this. More and more, you weren’t spending time with them together unless you were getting ready for a party. Your weekly shopping and smoothie trips had been reduced to you and Heather, with May saving her money for bimonthly trips to Indianapolis with the cheer squad. Your regular sleepovers have been reduced to you and May, with Heather keeping her nights free so she can visit Patrick at a moment's notice.

May judges Heather’s boyfriend, her time spent with model UN and running for class president, the conservative way she dresses. Heather judges May’s taste in boys, her self-applied heavy makeup, the fact that her grades have slipped every year since she joined cheer.

You are caught in the middle of them. Staying silent is a betrayal, but telling would be too. So you end up quietly pleading for it all to go back to the way it was when you were twelve and Heather joined what had been a dedicated twosome for years. It was all the joy of collective discovery then. New, exciting things like makeup and dancing and boys.

“You know that’s why she’s being crazy about you getting back with Andy, right? She went to him and told him you were meeting Eddie in the forest that day. Has that occurred to you?”

You feel stupid that it hadn’t. “When I tell her about Eddie-”

“She’ll get worse. And you know it.” She sighs, tilting her head at your worried expression, nervous fingers grasping fabric. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- Listen. Let me just buy these, then I wanna get a mango-strawberry smoothie and hear every detail.”

You grin at her, worry giving way to the warm, innocent love reserved for your friends, exclusive to her, and to May.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #tmyg

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univemma · 1 year

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I have my problems with the hidden world, like many others. And i just want to gather all my thoughts in one place here because i feel like many agree that the ending itself isnt the problem, but how they did it. For me, personally, they ruined it with the reactions to the dragons leaving. Specifically, the reactions of the dragons.

First, we have Meatlug, who in the past has been shown thay merely HEARING FISHLEGS' VOICE causes her to become overwhelmed with excitement. (RTTE S2E9)

And yet here, she looks like this:

Like?? Not even a frown when she's leaving Fishlegs, who is clearly her favourite person in the world (literally watch ANY HTTYD media and this is made abundantly clear).

Moving on, we have Barf and Belch. Now it can be said that the twins and their dragon don't really have as many emotional dragon-rider moments as the others, but it is still clear that Barf and Belch love their riders. Except here:

The twins look DEVASTATED, meanwhile they (sorry belch is cropped here I couldnt get a ss with both in it) hardly look sad. Barf at least looks a little upset but still, its borderline.

And moving on, to perhaps what angers me the most, Snotlout & Hookfang. These two are easily my fav dragon-rider duo/team, and for many reasons.

Very quickly, allow me to take you back to RTTE S1E13, in which Hookfang goes out of his way to protect "Girl-Hookfang" and her eggs from a Titanwing Monsterous Nightmare when she sends out what Hiccup describes as a "distress signal".

When Snotlout tells Hookfang to choose between him and the dragon, he ultimately chooses defending her. But at the prospect of leaving Snotlout, he looks LIKE THIS:

He looked MISERABLE and even made sad little dragon noises (idk how to describe them im sorry). So,

TELL ME WHY

IN THE HIDDEN WORLD

HE LOOKS LIKE THIS

SNOTLOUT LOOKS LIKE HES LISTENED TO AN ENTIRE MITSKI ALBUM, BROS FUCKING SOBBING SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP.

And Hookfang hardly even looks at him, just kinda gives him a sideways glance. Like

HELLO???! And ONE OF THESE had a lower budget as a TV show AND a lower quality model (which, unrelated, ive seen some people really dislike but I think the show models are great!)

The only one to act somewhat appropriately is Toothless, who warbles and makes his little dragon noises at Hiccup, almost talking with him, they have their big heartfelt moment and their cute hug before he leaves. Because of course they get it, its Hiccup and Toothless.

And yeah i get it that clearly the dragons are sick and tired of hunters and therefore understand the need to leave. But they dont even look sad! Breaks my heart because after three movies, two tv shows and all the specials of the dragons and riders bonding and caring for each other and they don't even get a heartfelt goodbye.

And let us not forget that Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins, who have been riders since the FIRST MOVIE, and main characters in their own right for years, don't even get a GOODBYE LINE?? LIKE LITERALLY, Astrid and Valka? Absolutely, they deserve it. Gobber? Sure, he hasn't known grump nearly as long but he's been a relevant and important main character as long as the kids. And Eret-

Now, I love Eret. He's cool. He's great. Love a hunter turned rider.

But WHY DID THEY GIVE A LINE TO HIM AND SKULLCRUSHER (approx. 1 year relationship) OVER THE SIX YEARS OF FISHLEGS, RUFF, TUFF AND SNOTLOUT? THEY DONT EVEN GET A "Goodbye." WHAT.

And again thats not me shitting on Eret getting one, its on the others NOT

And this isnt even beginning to mention Valka and Cloudjumper do not START ME on their TWENTY YEAR FRIENDSHIP AND BOND BEING TORN APART IN A ONE MINUTE GOODBYE.

Anyways on a lighter note, the parallel with Hiccup removing his hand from Toothless in a reverse of the first time they touched all those years ago always gets me emotional. My fav part about the ending.

And that's pretty much all I like about it LMAOO

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rollercoasterwords · 30 days

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genuinely thank you so much for writing thtf. it's my favourite thing to read in the whole world for so many reasons. like other than where it's obviously devastating (in SUCH a good way), idk it just makes me so happy

I think it's the first wip i followed from start to finish and I have to say that part of 2022 was not the greatest but yk, every few days there'd be a new chapter. and it was great.

I fucking love Dorcas talking about "a butterfly in the palm of your hand" it's changed the way I think so much. like you would not expect this from a fanfic lmao but it's pretty much exactly what I needed to hear at the time. living just to live, even if it's complete shit, not caring about what they're leaving behind. ch 42 (i think) where all they're doing is just washing the dishes but it's so special and they're listening to dawn storm is so important to me I love it SO much. fucking amazing.

ngl I don't really think there's anything I don't like. every character feels so right - regulus in particular sticks out to me, like there's such a good balance between him doing pretty bad things because he's not a particularly "good person" but also not being a complete dick. also I would die for marlene mckinnon and the way you write her is just so fucking good. the way she is just so alive to make up for her shorter life is so beautiful to me. I could ramble on for a very long time about everything in this fic but I dont want this to get too long lol

the music you put on the chapters is also really good like I'm pretty sure the first time I read it I didn't listen the music and then I reread it with the music and it was like a whole different experience

yeah i would've sent this earlier (like maybe a year ago) but looks like I put it off for a really long time lol

also - really love where atwmd is going rn I'm so excited for more chapters, i love Sirius Black etc etc

ahh thank u this is so sweet! i love hearing that thtf resonated w people it definitely feels like the fic kinda took on its own life & became a little philosophical journey that i was not entirely expecting lol. i think writing a story where i knew my main characters were going 2 die the whole time really made me contemplate like. ok what do i actually want 2 say abt death, and by way of that what do i wanna say abt life? bc like. as someone who doesn't believe in an afterlife i didn't wanna write a story that says "well it's ok bc they can be happy in the afterlife" <3 bc like. that does not comfort me lol. & i also didn't wanna write a story that was like "it's ok bc there's gonna be a good future 4 others after them," bc i think life means something and matters even outside of futurity. i didn't wanna play into this narrative that u have 2 Do Something 2 make ur life meaningful by making sure u have an impact on the future, etc; i wanted 2 write abt life as meaningful outside of that. & i also specifically wanted 2 write abt life as something beautiful & meaningful even with the bad stuff mixed in, and even if death is abrupt and scary and painful and unwanted. like i purposely made both their deaths pretty brutal bc i personally find the idea of a "bad death" really scary! the idea of dying before ur ready, dying scared or alone or in pain or all three, etc...and i think part of why that's so scary is bc we place this big emphasis, again, on a linear timeline of life, where death is The End, and if The End is bad, then the story's a sad one. but death is just one moment in the sum total of billions of moments throughout your life; why should that bad cancel out all the good? why should a story be sad, just because the last page of it is sad? you can open the book to any page and find happiness, and love, and warmth, etc. & that's what i'm trying 2 say w "a story is not its end."

anyway. this got much longer than expected lol i love 2 ramble abt thtf but! again ty 4 the kind words glad u enjoyed the fic glad u enjoyed the music as well!! i love the playlist 4 that fic <3

#ask #thtf #wfrau #<- glad ur enjoying this one as well! <3

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natsbaby · 2 years

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Kiss Me in the Rain

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: with you becoming stressed for your most special day, only Nat could tame the bridezilla in you

Warning: nothing!

A/N: since it’s raining at where I am right now and I remembered the notebook, I thought this would be a cute short story so I hope you guys like this one!!

“Nat!! Where are you??”

Nothing could stop the sigh that escapes your fiancée (soon to be wife)’s lips as you storm into your shared bedroom a week before your wedding, expecting the 5th meltdown from you today. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“It’s gonna rain next week! All week long!” You whine, devastated at the forecast for next week as you plop down besides Nat on the bed while she continues to read her book without glancing up from her page.

Lately, wedding plans hasn’t really gone your way so stress doesn’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. It started with the chef you wanted to book half a year ago where you wanted his catering services but he’s not available due to another wedding, then the florists telling you 2 months ago that the flowers you wanted to order had to get cancelled because of an unexpected infestation that ruined the batch reserved for you, and the weather forecast was just your breaking point with other things not going your way.

She chuckles softly as she turns another page. “Oh my sweet baby, it’s alright if it rains next week”

“It won’t be alright because no one likes rain on formal events, and they’d all just run away for shelter while we’re drenched to the bones! I look horrible with ruined makeup, Nat” you suddenly feel the unexpected tears well up on your waterline, threatening to fall as you sniff. This definitely caught Nat’s attention as she finally turns to look at you as you continue.

“Its true tho we don’t normally care but..” you mumble as you finally open up what’s been bothering you. “What if this is just the world telling us to not get married?”

Ah, so that’s why, she thought as she bookmarks her book, placing it on the bedside table and turns to look at you as she gently runs her fingers through your hair.

You being superstitious was something Nat thought to be adorable, since admittedly the superstition side of you only manifests in relationships than anything else. You even made her chase after you for months because you wanted to have that Serendipity moment by writing your number on a dollar and spending it, hoping that one day she’d get it. Boy did it take Nat soooo long to get that dollar back just to get on a date with you.

“A little rain couldn’t hurt anyone you know” Nat explains as she gently presses a kiss on your forehead, wiping your tears away. “Besides, what’s more important? You and me, getting tied together forever or people’s complaint on a little water on their dresses or tux?”

You chuckle softly at that as you nod in agreement. “Yea..”

“Have you heard of that saying where if it rains on your wedding, it signifies more than 50 years of a happy marriage?” Your eyes widen at that, shaking your head no as it was the first time hearing it before Nat continues her train of thought. “I think our wedding photos would look really cool, just like the Notebook”

You raise your eyebrow teasingly as Nat gives you a wide teasing grin at the thought. “Come on babe, our photos would look perfect and everything else would go perfectly, even if there’d be hiccups along the way”

You hum in thought as Nat lays down besides you, taking you in her arms as you lay on your side so you could look at each other. “Are you disappointed that our nice, fall wedding might become a cold and wet one?”

She laughs softly at that before shaking her head no. “No never, even if a bear suddenly comes out and say hi”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask, albeit smiling softly at the silliness of what Nat said prior.

“Because I’m marrying you, I could never be disappointed when I spent a lifetime waiting for you”

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natalia romanova x reader #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff imagine

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zumurruds · 1 month

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Here's part two of this ask.

(Warning: this list may contain spoilers!)

6. Rachel - I enjoy narratives where the author allows readers to make their own assumptions about characters, leaving enough mystery to keep us guessing the complete truth. From the start, Rachel from My Cousin Rachel intrigues both the protagonist and readers with her enigmatic charm and unclear motives. Rachel's actions keep readers guessing about her true intentions, blurring the line between innocence and manipulation. Her subtle yet significant influence on other characters keeps readers engaged until the end. Rachel's ability to navigate societal expectations while maintaining her independence and confidence adds layers to her character, making her truly compelling and enjoyable to read.

7. Damianos of Akielos - One of Damen's most cherished traits from Captive Prince is his emotional sensitivity and capacity for love. Unlike typical warrior archetypes, he values intimacy and emotional connection over stoicism. His relationships, particularly with Laurent, showcase his ability to open up authentically and forgive those who have hurt him, challenging the idea that strength means emotional detachment and revenge. Additionally, Damen's aversion to killing and its toll on him challenges traditional views of masculinity. Despite his combat skills, he feels the weight of killing and doesn't take pleasure in it. His reluctance to harm, especially those he loves and even those who have hurt him deeply (Jokaste, Laurent, Kastor), highlights his moral integrity and compassion. Furthermore, Damen's courage to confront injustice and challenge oppressive systems that exist in both Vere and Akielos demonstrates his commitment to change and progress, showcasing his moral conviction.

8. Nakia - Female spies are such a special interest of mine, so naturally I gravitate towards Nakia's character from Black Panther. She is a skilled Wakandan spy and is known for her intelligence, combat prowess, and unwavering dedication to protecting Wakanda and its people. One of Nakia's defining traits is her commitment to humanitarian efforts outside of Wakanda's borders. She believes that Wakanda, with its advanced technology and resources, should use its power to help those in need around the world, even if this perspective initially puts her at odds with King T'Challa, her former lover and king. 9. Roy Walker - One of the standout aspects of the film The Fall, aside from its breathtaking visuals, is the emotional evolution of Roy. Initially portrayed as a disillusioned stuntman, Roy's interactions with young Alexandria become a catalyst for his emotional and psychological healing. Through storytelling, Roy's inner turmoil is gradually unveiled, allowing viewers to empathize with his struggles. The bond between Roy and Alexandria is central to the film's narrative, offering both heartwarming and poignant moments. Despite their age and background differences, Roy finds solace in Alexandria's innocence and imagination, as they embark on a shared journey through fantastical landscapes, which symbolizes Roy's quest for emotional reconciliation. Roy's character is also imbued with mystery and ambiguity, and viewers are left questioning the authenticity of his stories and the depth of his connection to Alexandria, adding layers to his complexity and inviting various interpretations. 10. Farha - Farha's story from the Netflix film Farha is incredibly important because it serves as a reminder of the human toll of historical events like the Palestinian Nakba. Through Farha's perspective, we witness the devastating impact of the mass murder and displacement of Palestinians, particularly those of young girls like Farha who dream of education and a better future. Her desire for education and autonomy reflects the universal human longing for dignity and self-determination, rights that have been historically denied to Palestinians. By centering the narrative on Farha's personal journey, the film humanizes the larger historical events of the Nakba, allowing viewers to connect on a deeply emotional level with the experiences of ordinary individuals caught in the midst of conflict. Farha's narrative mirrors the collective experience of Palestinians: one marked by resilience, courage, and unwavering hope in the midst of unimaginable adversity. Her story highlights the ongoing brutal and inhumane Israeli occupation of Palestinian lands, particularly in the context of the ongoing genocide they are currently experiencing. Through her story, we are reminded of the importance of bearing witness to the past and honoring the voices of those who are marginalized and silenced.

Thanks for this ask, @dnana-2809-blog!

#my cousin rachel #damianos of akielos #captive prince #the fall #palestine #farha

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thatscarletflycatcher · 1 year

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*And another one*

I don't hate Rory, but I still think Mitchum was right, and I also don't think he was conspiring against Rory and Logan's relationship, and I also don't think he was extraordinarily mean and harsh (read extraordinarily as "beyond average experience of people in such a situation").

First thing: neither Mitchum nor Rory when speaking of her career are speaking of her becoming an average, serviceable, or even a competent desk research journalist. All references we get to the sort of job Rory aspired to is the kind of aggressive, go get it journalism: running through war zones, uncovering conspiracies, relentlessly pursuing the news and truth, demanding it, tearing it from people that don't want to give it.

And in that, Mitchum is right: Rory doesn't have what it takes. She's a kind, shy, sensitive people pleaser. She works well in structures where her duties and perks are delineated, where she receives encouragement, support and praise. She's not an entrepreneur the way Jess is, for example.

And her internship proved it. She did not push Mitchum to give her what she needed, she did not take every opportunity to showcase her talent, she just looked around and settled for the secretarial and managerial tasks no one else was doing. Which I think are important tasks that require skills that are not as easily found as you might think (punctuality, asiduity, patience, a well organized mind, manners and words that make other people cooperate with you and with each other, ability to recognize people's talents and put them to good use, comprehension of the big picture as a whole and in its details, all traits that Rory showed excellence in also later on in the DAR and as editor of the Yale Daily News).

Mitchum didn't tell her she didn't have what it takes to be successful in general or to work in journalism in general; he told her she didn't have what it takes to be a top dog aggressive reporter. And the series proves him right. Rory never becomes that, but she does become, an extraordinarily talented editor there where someone like Paris failed miserably.

As for the harshness, I'm not saying it is desirable, this is not "people need toughness to become good". But I was made to cry three times a year for three years as a student teacher. Every evaluation was a devastating list of all my failures in teaching a class. That wasn't the thing that made me a competent teacher, but I can attest to you none of those professors had any personal beef with me.

They weren't harsh or unfair for some secret motive. They had evaluated hundreds of students and I was just one more; the tearing to shreds of my classes was not personal. Mitchum is the owner of several newspapers and an empire. Rory is not the first person he has mentored, and given Logan's track record where he slept and fooled around with his sister's bridesmaids when his relationship with Rory had a couple months hiatus, Rory also isn't a specially distinct face in the universe of Logan's lady friends. We are so used to everyone seeing Rory in the show as super special, and also because she's a main character, but that doesn't mean everyone in her universe sees her that way.

I'm not saying that it's contradictory to canon the idea that Mitchum might have had second motives, but it's also not a given, and the opposite is as arguable and as plausible.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #mitchum huntzberger #this is not about HA SOMEONE FINALLY TOOK RORY DOWN A PEG #i have no personal beef with rory #if anything it is a little sad to consider this plot is pretty much the first time she's faced with real life harshness directed at her #after perhaps that time she was late for a test and failed it because of it while at chilton #and again not because people need harshness to grow necessarily #but because nobody seems to have ever told her it is something that happens to people #and how one deals with that #everyone subconsciously tells Rory she's so amazing and special everyone will always be in awe at her or jealous of her or love her #and so when the inconceivable happens she spirals folds crumbles because she has no tools to deal with it whatsoever #this also makes Jess being the one to wake up call her effectively even more meaningful #because he comes from the opposite direction of being a person used to being overlooked and dismissed #and someone who loves Rory for reasons that are not her specialness #he knows her for who she is and so she can trust his judgement when he tells her who he knows her to be

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sxugaryx · 4 months

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Flashback (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

Geppetto thought it would be a good idea to give the house a deep cleaning as it had been too long since he did that, he and his son cleaned the living room together, right now Pinocchio was cleaning his room and Geppetto was cleaning his workshop, although there isn't much he can throw away here, he keeps most of his important documents here, the most vital ones inside a safe but he is throwing away a few blueprints and notes from old projects.

He still… has the box that held Carlo after he died, he never opens it but it has things that belonged to his son, things that used to be in his room since it is now Pinocchio's room. Sometimes he leaves flowers on top of the box or lights candles.

Geppetto kept cleaning, he opened a storage closet that held many things, and he began to throw away the unnecessary ones, shoved inside the closet is the arm of god he really needs to find another place to keep it safe.

While cleaning he found a folder that contained the plans of the project when he first began to work on the puppets and Geppetto began to reminisce about the past.

—--

Geppetto had recently graduated and become an engineer, shortly after he met his wife and they both got married. After some more years of working Geppetto began to work on a special project, the development of the first-ever puppets, this project was financially backed up by the influential Venigni family. He was the one with the idea and managed to convince a few people to join him, it was a hard task since most believed it simply wasn't possible.

The puppets were a success and more started being built, Gepetto still remembers those days when everything was so different in Krat, the city back then was known for its fishing, and the most influential thing about Krat was its education system, Krat's schools were recognized as some of the best on the country, specially their university. Building the puppets was like building Krat again, the city had never been better, and their mechanical advancements quickly gained their fame, Krat was no longer the place it used to be and it all happened in such a short amount of time, Geppetto still can't believe how fast everything went, how he started being recognized, it was too much for him at first, being a public figure, but as the years passed he got over that overwhelming feeling, his wife always told him that he deserved that fame, that Krat was in a much better state because of him, it always made him blush, it was embarrassing but he liked when she praised him like that.

Years passed and they both had Carlo, it was a pleasant surprise, they had been married for many years and still hadn't had a child, it was because the doctors told his wife that she most likely would never be able to get pregnant, so Carlo was their little miracle, they were in their late 30s when Carlo was born. Geppetto thought that maybe because he was older he would be a wiser father.

He was so wrong about that.

When Carlo was 8 years old, his wife passed away, she had many health complications during her pregnancy, and shortly after Carlo was born, but she had gotten better, she was back to her former self. But one day she went to sleep and never woke up, the doctors said that she was never meant to be able to give birth in the first place, that her body couldn't handle everything anymore.

He was devastated, he lost the love of his life but he had to keep going for Carlo's sake. At that time Carlo was studying at Monad but he didn't stay inside the boarding school, he returned home each day, Geppetto did thought about making him stay full time but he decided against it, he didn't want to make Carlo feel as if he had abandoned him for his work.

Yet he ended up neglecting his son for his work anyway.

Carlo would come home by himself when school was done, Geppetto doesn't know what he was thinking back then, leaving such a young child by himself, Carlo could stay home alone without any issues and Geppetto had praised him for being self-reliable at such a young age, but Carlo was self-reliable because as his father he was never around for him.

His son's behavior did change, he began to act out, getting in trouble at school, Carlo had trouble making friends, his only friend was Sophia but her parents didn't allow Sophia to go out much, they were very overprotective of her, so Carlo didn't have anyone to hang out with.

Geppetto knew how much his son was struggling to make friends, how much his son was struggling having to be at home by himself all day, they would only see each other at night when he came back from work, having so little time to see each other and Geppetto still hasn't forgiven himself for starting to work also on the weekends by that time, he wants to say that it was all the pressure that had, that he had a big responsibility, he was and still is the leader of the Workshop Union, a public figure and back then people saw him as a savior of Krat from making this “nowhere city” an important place and maybe it truly was because of that his obsession with working grew but he would be lying to himself because another reason for it was that after his wife died, he wanted something to distract himself from the pain, it was easy to be consumed by his work, he loved and still loves his work, but he used it as an excuse to not be there for his son.

So Geppetto built Romeo, he built a friend for his son and it was surprising but Romeo awoke his Ego the same day was made, just after spending a few minutes with Carlo.

Carlo was so happy to finally have a friend and he was no longer alone, they were thick as thieves, and when he saw them play together, he saw that Carlo was truly happy. Romeo was special, in a way just like Pinocchio, he had what would be a prototype of the P organ just without the ability to absorb Ergo, so when Carlo grew, Geppetto built Romeo a new body and simply transferred the heart to that body. People called Romeo The King of Puppets even more so when Romeo began to have a passion for plays and Operas.

Romeo attended school with Carlo, Geppetto asked the school for permission to do so and they let him, plus Valentinus was a good friend and understood the situation.

Lots of people asked questions about how he built him of course, but just as Geppetto refuses to answer any questions about Pinocchio he refused to answer any that had anything to with Romeo, he made him just for Carlo but in the end, all those moments spent together… Geppetto looks back and sees how they were all a family, he wishes he could have told Romeo that he also saw him as a son, he deeply regrets not doing it.

When Venigni graduated and became an engineer, Geppetto was excited to work with him after all he had worked with his parents, although he had never seen Vengini while was growing up, specially after his parents died and speaking of their deaths, Vengni pulled him aside to talk about the matter, revealing the truth, that a puppet had been responsible all along, Geppetto was shocked and asked why he lied about it being a house robbery gone wrong, and Venigni confessed how he was afraid that they would take Pulcinella away from him, so he lied about it. It all made sense, he had no other relatives, yet he wasn't sent to the foster system so he was basically raised by Pulcinella, who has acted as his butler for many years but at this point they are family, and even if he wanted to tell the truth, the alchemists forced him not to reveal it, all in the name of continuing with their schemes.

Venigni begged him to make The Grand Covenant, a way for this to never happen again and so he did, once it was done it even gave the people of Krat more security about the puppets; Geppetto knows that Venigni tried to get the case of his parents murder re-opened but that his efforts were unsuccessful, Pinocchio did tell him that he killed that puppet and that he felt about it, he told his son to not feel bad about it but Pinocchio is too pure, he feels bad about most of the things he did to save Krat.

Geppetto made the 3 laws and he added Law 0 just in case, in case something went wrong and someone tried to take control over the puppets so that he could stop them from doing any harm, how ironic that the opposite of that happened.

He remembers when the first cases of the petrification disease started, how scary it all was, how fast it attacked the body, and how death was certain, how couldn't he remember? He was reading the newspaper late at night having just come from work it had been a very long day, he was exhausted from all that working when Carlo opened the door of the house, he was crying and he was angry, Romeo was standing just behind him and he was trying to avoid looking at him. At that moment it clicked, his graduation, he didn't attend his son's graduation.

“You don't care about me, you never have, you only care about your goddamn job!”

Carlo was 18 and after that, his son barely spoke to him, Romeo also barely spoke to him and like the idiot he was Geppetto buried himself even more in his work.

Two years later was when the epidemic started, the petrification disease was in full force, so many getting infected and the alchemists were trying to help everyone, although now Geppetto and everyone knows that all just all lie, that they were the ones behind it and Simon was using it for his plans. Not only did they use it for experiments but the Ergo of those who died was sent to them, as a way to “find a cure” It was all just to make Simon stronger.

Then Carlo got sick…and died.

As his father he stood next to him in that hospital, everyone had told him to stay from a distance, that he could get sick as well, that the sickness was a death sentence, but he didn’t care, he stood by Carlo’s side and back then he didn’t care if he die, he just wanted to be next to him. He always found it odd that he didn’t get sick, at the time people said that he just got lucky, but Geppetto never felt lucky, it should have been him and not Carlo.

“Father I’m sorry” Carlo was apologizing, he apologized because he felt like he wasn’t a good son when it was the opposite, he was a great son. Geppetto knows that he was just a bad father. He told Carlo to not apologize, that it was all his fault that their relationship wasn’t the best but that he has always loved him and will always love him.

As Carlo’s condition grew worse Geppetto felt as if he was in a living nightmare, he was powerless to do anything, he just watched as his son slowly died in front of him. How he lost his mobility, and how his son lost his sight, Carlo also lost his voice, a symptom that wasn’t common but it happened to him. He always held his son’s hand, and during those moments Carlo had always tears on his face, Geppetto would talk to his son, anything to try and make him feel better, to make Carlo forget even for just a moment the torture he was going through.

Eventually, Carlo became unconscious and the very next day his son died, he held him in his last moments, they had to remove him from his body but even then he would let go. At the morgue of the hospital, Geppetto paid off the staff and gave them even more money so they wouldn’t ask questions, in the end, he was allowed to leave with his son’s body.

He wasn't going to allow anyone to take his son's Ergo or take anyone his son away from him, he lost his mind, he would do anything to bring Carlo back, he tried to bring Carlo back but it wasn't enough Ergo, he needed more, he started to build Pinocchio, he made the P organ, he just needed a way to collect all that Ergo.

So he started the frenzy.

The first few “errors” and “glitches” began, and then the puppets began their attack, but almost as soon as they began to attack, they stopped, well they stopped obeying him, they still attacked others, although Geppetto knows now that they were attacking alchemist and their creations, but obviously all those puppets attacking like that caused chaos, people ran away and hid to find safety. The puppets didn't even last a day under his control.

That was all Romeo's doing, he was stopping him.

He still can't believe he wanted to blame Romeo for his own selfish actions.

“This isn't what he would have wanted” Romeo's words stung just as poison, he confronted him directly when Geppetto went outside the Hotel for that small moment, and he was right, he should have listened to him. Romeo wanted Carlo back as well, because their friendship developed into something more, they were more than just friends and who wouldn't want the one they loved the most to be brought back? But Romeo was stronger than him, he was strong because he didn't try to bring Carlo back like him, he had faced reality and he was trying to stop all of this.

“You don't have to do this” Romeo was looking directly at him, he had come out of the giant puppet he had been using as a shield, “Please… listen to me I… I always…”

Romeo always saw him as family, but Geppetto was too consumed by his own grief to listen to him, he just walked away from him, his mind was completely consumed with the idea of bringing Carlo back no matter what, he wanted, he needed to see him again. His mind would play over and over again when Carlo was sick when he passed away in his arms.

Geppetto looks at the piles of papers, one has a journal, but he can barely understand the notes he took, they are too messy, and his handwriting is different he could tell that he was shaking when he wrote this, and the notes are all over the place, incomprehensible at some points.

He barely remembers trying to bring him back, he remembers who Carlo had attacked him, but it was just because he was confused, Carlo wasn't in control of himself, he was in pain as he was not fully complete yet. But Carlo wanted to be at peace, he knew it and he only saw it when it was almost too late, the most painful thing he had ever done was crush that heart, but for that brief moment when Carlo's Ergo was in his hands, he could feel his emotions, he could feel that his son was finally at peace, that it was what he truly wanted.

Geppeto looks again at those notes, his notes about building Pinocchio, he also has gaps in his memory about building him, although his mind was somewhat clearer in that state, if you can even call it clear, Geppetto can see how delusional he was while reading his writings. Sometimes he still feels like he is insane, its a bad thing but he doesn't talk about the dark thoughts that consumed his mind at that time, he knows its not good to keep it all in yet he still does it, he also has nightmares about it, somedays he wakes up in the middle of the night completely filled with panic and dread.

But he keeps it all in because he doesn’t want to worry Pinocchio, he has to be strong for his son. Maybe he needs to write down his feelings just like his son does, Geppetto knows that he can't allow himself to be consumed by his dark thoughts again.

Shortly after Romeo confronted him, Geppetto ran into that alchemist with the Donkey Mask and then…

A loud crashing sound interrupted Geppetto's thoughts.

He ran out of the room to see what happened, while cleaning his bookshelf Pinocchio had lost his balance, he grabbed the bookshelf for support but it ended up falling on top of him.

“Son are you alright?!” He helped his son get back up, it was a big bookshelf so Geppetto was really worried.

“I'm fine,” his son said, clearly holding back tears.

Geppetto hugged him at first only gently but then he held his son tightly not wanting to let go.

“Father…?”

“It's nothing son I just…” Geppetto was the one holding back tears now, “I was just remembering a few things that's all”

Pinocchio knows that his father gets sentimental when looking back at the past and even if he can speak better about it sometimes he tends to remember the bad times. So he hugs his father back and they share that moment together, it should be a nice memory, something good for his father to remember.

It was getting late so they stopped their cleaning and both got ready for bed, but Pinocchio couldn't sleep well, he was worried about his father, so he stood up from his bed.

“Going to sleep with him tonight?” Gemini asked, although he already knew the answer, “You are a good boy Pinocchio, caring for your father like that”

Pinocchio smiled.

“Can I sleep in your bed while you are gone?”

“Sure, make yourself feel like a king,” Pinocchio said as he let out a small laugh, he wished Gemini goodnight and left his room.

He carefully entered his father's room without making noise, his father was already asleep and looked like he was too tired, Pinocchio slid himself into bed next to him, hopefully, his father would have a nice surprise in the morning.

—----

“Sir, these are the remaining documents you asked for”

“Good,” said the man to one of his subordinates, “You may leave now”

As the door was shut, some information was easy to get, some weren't, but all were essential to his plan, he needed to look back at the history of Krat or rather when the puppets first began to appear, he looked at all the data he has collected and begins to read through it, making himself an idea of everything that happened over the years.

After finishing, the alchemist began to wonder how the frenzy started, none of the other alchemists ever found out it was strange but it could be that it truly was someone within their group who didn't want to admit it, the frenzy didn't go in their favor, for some reason those puppets were stopping their plans but after some time they stopped their uncoordinated attacks and it made them easier for them continue their activities. He never really liked Simon, although to be fair no one liked Simon but his plans gave everyone so much data about the nature of Ergo and what you can do to push its limits.

The alchemist set the papers and quickly re-arranged them, putting them neatly in a folder, he hates disorder and he looked at his study, he just cleaned it yesterday but it was already filthy in his eyes, everything must always be set in place but unfortunately he will have to wait a few hours before cleaning again, he must continue this research no matter what and he has the perfect distraction, he just needs to use that puppet to cause a little chaos and the minds of everyone will completely forget about the alchemist's activities.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #this is in ao3 too #ao3 link #lies of p geppetto #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p carlo #lies of p romeo #lies of p gemini

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