#like grow up some of us feel that way about capitalism every day

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

#writeblr #for real gimme book recs lol

[artemisiatridentata]

single people who hate Valentine’s Day are corny. die in my arms

#like yeah we get it blah blah blah it’s a capitalist holiday #but like you could say that about Christmas too . #OR. hear me out. or you could not participate in capitalism but still show love to the people in your life???? #no one’s holding you at gunpoint and forcing you to be miserable on Valentine’s Day if ur single #personally I felt very loved by my parents today plus I treated myself to a new book & strawberry ice cream after work <3 #and I felt (gasp) HAPPY for all the ppl on my instagram posting their sweethearts #and I felt disgusted when I went to the grocery store the other day and was visually attacked by red balloons and flower arrangements galore #but did I think huh what an awful holiday? no. I thought huh what an awful capitalist spectacle #and then I showed love to my loved ones and wore heart earrings and complimented strangers <3 #anyways. ain’t no reason to spend the day being hateful and bitter lmao #like grow up some of us feel that way about capitalism every day

[hannieehaee]

NEEDLE IN THE HAY

18+ / mdi

summary: after swearing off dating due to a messy breakup, wonwoo finds himself being forced out of the house by mingyu, joining the 97 squad as an honorary member. what wonwoo didn't realize, however, was that he'd end up swallowing his words after meeting the newest addition to the friend group.

content: idol!wonwoo x idol!reader, pining, friends to lovers, wonwoo's pov, reader is a 97 liner, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, angst (with a happy ending), some self-deprecating thoughts from wonu </3

wc: 8.5k

a/n: can u guys tell i love idol aus or what .. anyways, this time i used proper capitalization since this is long as fuck! hope u enjoy even if its a bit of a mess <3

masterlist kofi/patreon

support me through a one-time tip! <3

Wonwoo was going through a slump.

As commonly known by his fans (and probably non fans too, by now), Wonwoo had a girlfriend prior to debuting. He's not entirely sure how the news came about to the public (something about a trainee leaking information ..?), but in reality that didn't really matter. What mattered now was that he now had to relive his messy breakup over and over again as people made it a bit of a 'meme' among the fandom. It wasn't like it made it to the news or anything, but even the reminder was enough to bring back the bad memories surrounding it. All the low self-esteem and doubtfulness that was attached to it. The breakup might've been distant by now, but the news breaking out were fresh, causing Wonwoo's wounds to reopen.

Now, Wonwoo didn't blame carats for this. Under any other circumstance he would've also found it comedic, but after it being a few years since the breakup and not managing to find a long-term relationship ever since, Wonwoo found himself in a slump once more, just like he felt when he was freshly broken up.

She, who shall not be named, was one of his closest friends in grade school. She hung around when he was nothing more than a lanky loser (not his words, but that of a few rowdy kids at school). She'd seen him and respected him before the world even knew his name. And then she'd become more than a friend.

As Wonwoo first made the decision to join Pledis, he was entirely unsure of himself. He wasn't untalented by absolutely any means, that much even he knew. He was growing to be a handsome young man, and was discovering new skills every day. But he didn't feel like he stood out enough to make it all the way to debut. His girlfriend, however, stood by him and gave him the strength to continue, which he did in hopes of making not only his family proud, but what he believed to be the love of his life proud too. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was a teenager, who could blame him for thinking himself in love?

Soon after came his debut. Things were going great. The sole fact that he had made it to debut with 12 of his friends and fellow trainees had him over the moon. He had fans now; supporters who thought the world of him. He had a happy family waiting for him at home, and a girl he was infatuated with that he could keep all to himself, away from the public eye. Everything was perfect. Until it wasnt.

It was as predictable as you'd imagine. The fame, the limelights, the constantly-changing schedules. It was all too much for someone who could do no more than watch from the sidelines. The issues began a few years into his debut. He felt her begin to pull away. To be fair, he might've unconsciously pulled away first, but his life was getting too hectic for things to be the same as before. Maybe it was his fault for believing that she would evolve along with his life, willing to follow him as he continued his journey with his 12 friends.

If that had been the end, maybe it would've been okay. But the breakup had not happened just yet. We could've stayed friends if we had only ended it there, he'd thought many times. Unfortunately for Wonwoo, a clean break just was not in his cards. He found out about it through his younger brother. The betrayal. The disrespect. The heartbreak. He would've rathered she'd broken his heart face to face, you know? Maybe that way it wouldn't have hurt years into the future as it continued to do.

She had found someone else. It was some guy she met in college (something Wonwoo thought he'd do someday, but had chosen the life of an artist instead). There was nothing wrong with the guy, it just wasn't Wonwoo. He thought that maybe if she'd told him, he would've understood, would've been sad, but would've respected her decision, but no, she made her choice. Had she forgotten to break up with him beforehand? Was he just an afterthought? These were the questions that plagued Wonwoo's mind years after the fact. He had decided to confront her with what his brother had seen. Them together at a cafe, too close for comfort. What was saddest was her lack of denial. She didn't even fight back; fight for him. She had turned it around into his fault. As if he'd forced her hand. What broke Wonwoo more than the betrayal was the look of disdain in her eyes. It made him feel like maybe he was the villain. That maybe even if he tried, he just couldn't be loved in that way.

That's how he found himself in this situation. Two years past the five year long relationship, coming across another post detailing a theory of whether or not Wonwoo was still with his 'pre-debut girlfriend', as people liked to call her. He believed himself to be over the girl, but couldn't find himself to admit whether or not he was over the hurt. Only time would tell, he guessed.

"Come on, hyung. You can't stay here every time you have one of your episodes. It's been years, you have to move on!"

Mingyu was getting ready for another outing with his famous 97 squad; this time the attendees being Eunwoo, Jungkook, and Y/N. He was trying, yet again, to convince his elder of joining him and his friends. Maybe he wasn't a 97-liner, but he was well-liked by all the members of the group, and he figured the outing would do his friend some good, seeing as he was once again down in the dumps over his old girlfriend.

"I told you it's not that, Mingyu," responded Wonwoo, barely facing away from his computer, once again gaming during his very limited free time.

"Okay, if you're truly not sad about that anymore, then come out with us! It's been a while since you've even left the apartment, and you've never actually accepted any of my invites out! If you don't like it, we'll leave. It's all people you've already met anyways," reasoned, a very stubborn Mingyu.

"I don't actually know any of them, Gyu. Saying hello whenever they come visit you doesn't really count as knowing a person."

"Okay! Fine! What do you want? What do I have to give to get my best friend to hang out with me? Money? You're rich! What? You wanna play video games? They like video games, too! Come. On. Just this once."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, knowing his friend meant well, but not wanting to be around people while he had one of his usual slumps.

He pondered it for a minute. Maybe it'd be nice to be with other people like him. He'd never really made friends within the industry outside of the members and a few people he'd politely nod to as he walked the hallways of Hybe. Maybe it was time he broke out of his shell and befriended other people who would understand the loneliness that came with being an idol.

"Fine," he replied before his friend could hit him with another rebuttal to his denials. "Just this once."

Wonwoo didn't know what he was expecting any time Mingyu would bring up his outings with the 97's. With Mingyu's extroverted and eccentric personality, both in and out of the public eye, he assumed he meant clubbing or at least hitting up a pub. He wasn't sure what you or Jungkook or Eunwoo were into, but he assumed you'd be somewhat like Mingyu. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that his loud friend's friends all had a very striking contrast to him. The three idols sitting around him in Eunwoo's (whose name was actually Dongmin, apparently) apartment all seemed very quiet and calm. Their personalities also all seemed to match his better than that of Mingyu's, which made him come to the realization that maybe that was how they'd all befriended each other; through the overgrown puppy's incessant need to befriend everyone in every room he walked into.

Wonwoo appreciated Mingyu, truly. His outgoing nature would sometimes make a shy guy like Wonwoo, who liked to keep himself as small as possible, a little uneasy at times, but be appreciated his best friend's constant aid in getting Wonwoo's mood up. Even now. He hated to admit it, but his sudden decrease in mood seemed to be rapidly disappearing thanks to the new change of environment.

He had quickly taken a liking to Mingyu's three friends.

Dongmin was nice and insightful. A pretty face and a very interesting mind. He saw a bit of himself in him.

Jungkook was polite and funny. He was the perfect balance of childhood friend and college heartrob.

You. Well, Wonwoo hadn't quite figured you out yet. Admittedly, this had been the first time you'd ever spoken past a polite greeting or an inquiry for Mingyu's whereabouts, but he had been able to get a read for the other two members of the group. You were the outlier.

What he knew, though, was that he liked you. Okay, not like that, but there was an easiness that you seemed to carry with you. You were simply easy for him to fall into conversation with. It had already been a few hours (and a few drinks) since Wonwoo and Mingyu had arrived to Dongmin's apartment, and you and Wonwoo had been engaged in ongoing conversation shortly after arriving. And the conversation didn't seem to be heading towards its end any time soon. It had begun as a group outing (well, indoors), but to Wonwoo it now felt like a one-on-one, as the three remaining members of the 97's seemed distracted on their own, leaving you and Wonwoo to converse with each other freely.

-

"Okay, yeah. That can be kind of annoying, but how can you complain about Mingyu?! He's such a sweet guy," you laughed, responding to one of the many lighthearted disses of Mingyu Wonwoo had been feeding you with.

"You don't have to live with him. He's even louder at home," he chuckled.

"Then move out! I live alone now, finally. I love my members, but there's nothing as nice as being alone after coming home from hectic schedules."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Can't do that, though. I don't really like being alone that much," he revealed.

"You? Really? Then how come it's taken Mingyu this long to get you out of the house?," you inquired, leaning towards him with interest.

That was something he liked about you immediately. You listened. You showed visible interest in what he had to say. Granted, none of the things you'd been talking about thus far were groundbreaking (so far you'd managed to speak of predebut stories, hopes for your respective groups, current hobbies, a few movie and book recommendations here and there, and endless other things), but he still appreciated someone outside of his family and members who showed interest in what he had to say. Still, part of him believed he might've been so starved for affection he could've just been reading too much into it.

"Oh," he chuckled. "He told you about that?"

"Fuck. Okay, don't tell him I said this. And I mean it, I trust you, Wonwoo," you paused. "He told us he'd been trying to get you out of the house a bit ... that you'd been feeling down."

Oh. Okay, now he felt a bit awkward. Why would Mingyu give opening for him to receive pity even from strangers?

"Oh. I-"

"So, I insisted he invited you come out with us."

Oh?

"You did? I .. How come?"

"Well. Honestly? I've been there. Having your members is great and all. And if you have a supportive family, that's even better. But our lifestyle's too isolated to not have as many people around us as we can. I don't know how I managed to navigate the industry before meeting Mingyu. He really took me under his wing and made sure I felt welcomed with the other 97's, even with all the shit he got for hanging out with a female idol so publicly."

So, that's how you'd met. Man, he's always known Mingyu as one of the nicest people he's ever met, but this truly made him take the cake. He remembered the articles that came out about both you him (and a few of the other 97-liners) when they'd made you the first female addition to the friend group. He didn't pay them much mind, seeing as dating rumours come by the dozens among idols, but he hadn't really stopped to think about how it might've affected you.

"Did he tell you about .. why I kept saying no?"

"No. And I didn't want to intrude. Your battles are your own, Wonwoo, unless you want to share them."

Well, fuck. He was wrong. Well, right. Both. You did care. You didn't even know him, but you still cared. Or at least it seemed like it. He couldn't really wrap his head around the concept. He hadn't let anyone in (other than his 12 brothers) about what had happened. He had never felt the need to. He felt embarrassed by it. I mean, it was just a break up; an old one no one even knew about. Yes, he got cheated on, but it had been years ago. He should be over it by now. Even though people kept bringing his ex up. But why did he feel like he could confide in you?

He considered it. Telling you, that is. But he quickly realized that was just the alcohol talking. You had just met. He didn't want to scare you away. Hmm. Maybe he should circle back on this thought at some point. He also didn't want to make you privy to the most embarrassing thing about him (the green room shenanigans did not hold a candle to his pathetic heartbreak story if he had anything to say about it). So, he decided to save it for another time. He'd already decided in his head that he'd want to see you again. Maybe he would take up Mingyu on his offer to join the 97's as an honorary member.

The conversation eventually circled back to something more lighthearted, allowing Wonwoo to enjoy your company for a few more hours before Mingyu decided it was time for them to leave, knowing his friends probably had busy days tomorrow, just like any idol would.

Wonwoo couldn't sleep. The effects of the alcohol were fully gone by now; his loose tongue tightened back up and his mood regulated once again. Despite that, his mind was still clouded with thoughts of you. He had originally chalked it up to alcohol, how he felt a strange sense of disappointed upon having to bid his goodbye to you earlier tonight. But, lying in bed many hours later, he realized it was all still in his head. Your long-winded conversation, the drinks you shared together, the genuine care in your eyes, even Mingyu's stupid smirk as they walked back into their apartment, muttering something along the lines of 'I knew you'd have fun'. It was all still running around in his head, depriving him of sleep. He felt an odd sense of anxiousness. Excitement, maybe? He wasn't sure. He was looking forward to finding out though.

-

The next day was filled with schedules. A quick appearance at a comeback show in the morning, followed by a fitting back at the Hybe building, along with a few hours of practice with the boys. He'd always enjoyed hectic days like this. While tiring, they kept his mind occupied, and allowed him to spend the day with some of the people he treasured the most. Seeing carats early in the morning was also a treat. Even if for only a few minutes, walking past the crowd of people waiting for his arrival at MNET was always nice. It made him put a face (well, multiple) to the people who loved him most.

He was now ending his day, just as soon as it had started, when he heard a voice call to him from across the long hallway. Turning around, he found ... you? you! what were you doing here?

"Wonwoo! Wait up!", you quickly caught up to him as he halted his movements in order to wait for you. You two then began walking together.

"Hey ? What are you doing here?"

You stopped. "Really? Wonwoo! I work here? My group's been here for a few months now, did you never notice? Hybe acquired my company last year," despite your shock at his ignorance, there was no actual anger or annoyance in your voice.

He felt kind of bad. You'd spent grand part of last night letting Wonwoo know how much attention you'd paid to Mingyu's retellings of Wonwoo's problems only for him to not know the most basic of things about you. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was with small details like this that his ex began to pull away.

"Oh, wait, Wonwoo. I'm not actually mad, I'm sorry. I just assumed you already knew," his face must've told on him. He had to admit that he was kind of paranoid after what had happened. He'd already ruined a few friendships (along with the relationship) with his lack of attention to the people around him. He didn't want to add you to the list of failed relationships so soon.

"Ah. Sorry. I don't really keep track of those things too often. I'm too distracted sometimes."

"I get you. There's too many new groups at Hybe for you to have noticed anyway. Anyways! Are you done for the day?"

He felt his heart accelerate at the thought of you wanting to know what his future whereabouts would be.

"Uh, yeah. I was heading home actually?"

"What? Nooo! Mingyu's taking Jungkook and I out to a little discreet pub he knows. You should come with. Please. They're so annoying when Dongmin's missing," you pleaded, making eyes at him.

You wanted him to come? You were inviting him? He hadn't really gone out for a few weeks (since he began to see people speak of his 'pre-debut ex-girlfriend' that everyone assumed was still in the picture). He had to admit, he found it kind of funny how carats would whine at the idea of him being taken. That was kind of the silver lining; a slight lift to his bad mood surrounding it. He-

"Wonwoo? It's okay if you don't wanna come. I don't wanna pressure you!"

Oh, shit. He was in his head again. He needed to break these habits if he wanted to work on his people skills.

"Oh, sorry. No, I was thinking of something else, sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, "I .. yeah, I'd love to come," he found himself agreeing.

Wonwoo was not an awkward man by any means. His fans and many others knew him as a charming guy, which he really was. He was just going through a weird period in his life. That and you made him nervous for some reason.

"Great,"you smiled back at him, further increasing the speed of his heart.

Wonwoo was extra exhausted after today's events, not being used to outings with people outside of his members after already tiresome days. For some reason, his social battery always drained almost immediately when around people he wasn't too familiar with, and tonight he'd chosen to spend the night at a pub full of strangers. But, hey, at least you were there.

Once more, you and Wonwoo found yourselves in one-on-one conversation. Although Mingyu had been slightly surprised to see his friend arrive with you at the selected meeting spot at the pub, he gave Wonwoo a knowing smile, glad to have his friend out of the house once again.

The goodbye was, again, dreadful for Wonwoo. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't usually someone to get attached so easily, but your name just called to his ever since that first time he met you. This time had worsened his condition. You drank together, exchanged numbers, maybe even flirted(?) a little, and then went your own ways, sharing a quick hug as you departed.

He hated to rush things (even if it was only in his head), but he had to admit to himself that he liked you. Yeah, like that. He felt like a teenager again; giddy at the thought of you, crushing on the pretty girl his friend introduced him to. He had unofficially sworn off dating two years ago when he broke up with her, but it wasn't like that was too big of an effort considering his dating market as an idol wasn't very expansive anyways. He also didn't want to assume things. You were just a friend. But you were also so pretty, and nice, and you had so much in common with him, you even shared a career! You were just his type, he realized. He wondered why you hadn't dated any of the 97's before. Wait, maybe you had a boyfriend. One Wonwoo, of course, wouldn't know about since you'd just met. Fuck. There he went again, letting his mind spiral over the smallest of things. He needed to give himself a break and just enjoy your friendship. Enjoy the good things he had instead of thinking of the bad. That had been a struggle lately.

You and Wonwoo continued to meet occasionally like that. Eventually meeting almost daily at the company. You'd stop by his practice room to hang out during work, and vice versa. He also found himself begging Mingyu to let him join in on his outings, wanting to see you even after work. He tried to be casual about it, but as soon as his smug friend realized the reason behind Wonwoo's sudden interest, he teased him endlessly about it, making jokes like 'But you're a 98-liner, why would you wanna hang out with us kids?,' a smirk glued to his face. He hadn't told Mingyu about his crush (nor would he ever admit to it), but Mingyu's correct assumption of his feelings for you led his friend to try and become a bit of a matchmaker. He'd now taken a habit to purposely leaving you and Wonwoo alone, even dragging his other friends away when they'd try and make conversation in order to get the two of you together. He was embarrassed by this, but was even more embarrassed that he was kind of thankful for his friend's actions.

Wonwoo had been enjoying the time he got to spend with you alone. Like now. Mingyu had invited you, Dongmin, Jungkook and Jaehyun over to his (and Wonwoo's place), something that didn't tend to happen before since Mingyu had wanted to respect Wonwoo's privacy. This was your first time here. Your first time in Wonwoo's room (door open, of course) as he showed you some of his recent photography that he'd told you about in your previous meeting. Once more, he felt like a teenager as he showed you his art, giddy at your endless compliments towards his talent.

"Jesus. So many idols pick up photography as a hobby, but I'd never seen any of them be actually good at it. Wonwoo, these are amazing!", he heard compliments like this from fans and staff alike very often, but it just had a different effect when it came from you.

He wanted to deny you; be bashful about it and chuckle a polite disagreement to your compliment, but after getting to know you better these past few weeks, he knew that wouldn't fly with you, instead opting for a shy 'thank you' in response.

"I'm serious, Wonwoo. You should do a showing or something! Your fans would love it. And .. you should teach me also!", he loved how enthusiastic you always were. It reminded him a lot of his best friend. Maybe that's why he liked the both of you so much.

He turned his head to face you as you sat next to him on his bed, lap to lap. He hadn't realized how close you had been sitting to one another in order to look at his laptop screen. Before he could scoot away, you turned your head too, now having only a few inches between your faces.

You looked at each other without saying anything, Wonwoo's breath hitching. Any reasonable man would've pulled you in for a kiss as soon as he noticed your eyes trail down to his lips, clearly inciting him to do so. But Wonwoo wasn't a very reasonable man. He was a mess of unreasonable emotions, which led him to his first mistake.

Seeing as he wasn't doing anything, you seemed to become frustrated at his lack of action, leaning in instead of him. Now, that would've been perfect if Wonwoo were, you know, normal. But the end result was less than favorable. As you leaned in, he panicked, getting up from the bed in a rush and creating a very obvious space between you. Your eyes widened, and he caught a hint of hurt and embarrassment behind them at his actions before you quickly took control of your expression.

"I, uhh. It's getting late. You have an early morning, don't you?", fuck, why the hell was he saying that?! Was he kicking you out? Wonwoo kicked himself in his mind, but his mouth kept running against his will. "I have an early morning, maybe you should, uh .."

He caught that hurt in your eyes once more as you responded. "Oh, I .. Right. Sorry .. Yes, I do, actually. I should go now .. Thanks for showing me your pictures. Have a nice night, Wonwoo," you were being far too cordial with him, seemingly making it a point of using overly formal language when the two of you had agreed before to speak casually; as friends.

He fucked it up. Again.

He watched you leave without stopping you. He had every chance to as you looked back at him one more time before exiting his room. He had another chance as he heard you close the front door to his apartment. He could've ran after you (even speed-walking would've sufficed, really), but he stood there like an idiot.

Wonwoo was right. He was incapable of love. Romantic love, at least. He still had many friends and a loving family back home, but he had been right to believe himself unlovable after his ex had left him. Turns out she was right. It was all his fault.

A few weeks had gone by since he last saw you. The text messages between you now unexistent, and the chance for reconciliation dying further every passing day. You hadn't tried to contact him after what happened, nor did you wait outside his practice room every day as you had taken a habit of doing a few weeks into your friendship. Mingyu's invites to hang out with his friends were now left unattended by Wonwoo, not wanting to sour your free time with your friends with his presence. He'd ruined everything, he admitted to himself. It was obvious to him and everyone else that your friendship had begun to blossom into something more. There had been hints here and there of your reciprocation of his feelings, but they terrified him, so he chose to ignore them.

He thought about his feelings, but not yours, he had come to realize a few days after the fact.

He had wanted to kiss you so badly. He'd dreamt about it, even. He felt silly to admit this, but you'd become such a constant in his life in such a short period of time that he found it easy to imagine you there forever now. He felt the same way he did back in high school when he believed himself to be in love with his ex. He realized now that those feelings for her had dissipated quickly after his debut. They'd only been together for so long due to the familiarity of it. Maybe that's why his ex had such a hard time breaking off things with him. Maybe that's why she chose to cheat on him instead. Maybe that familiarity was what made the situation such a mess in the first place.

He had gotten out of his slump thanks to you (and Mingyu, maybe), but now he had fallen right back into it, even worse this time.

It didn't take long for his roommate to notice his friend's absences in their outings, or the stark difference in his mood as soon as he got home every day from being an idol. Mingyu had the privilege (not really) of seeing how whatever happened between you took effect on the both of you. He saw his best friend fall back into his previous depressive state, while he saw you become a shell of yourself. He didn't know what happened, and he honestly didn't care. No one asked for his help, but he was going to give it anyways.

By some act of god, Mingyu was able to convince Wonwoo to leave their apartment long enough to participate in an upcoming outing once more. He had promised that the only other attendee would be Jungkook, as the plan was to have some drinks at the man's house. Other than you, Wonwoo had taken a special liking to Jungkook, having many things in common with him. Wonwoo had only agreed to attend in order to lessen any suspicion Mingyu may have had about the reason behind his current low mood, but he was also happy to see one of his new friends again.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, Mingyu was a meddler. He wasn't entirely sure why he was even surprised at seeing you walk across Jungkook's front door as he sat on one of his couches, drink in hand. An unsuspecting Jungkook let you in, not taking notice of your shocked face at spotting Wonwoo just a few meters away. Wonwoo should've known that Mingyu would get involved sooner or later. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed at his friend's nosy nature.

Despite your initial shock, you were polite with Wonwoo. You interacted as you used to before the two of you had gotten to know one another. Just a few nods and tight smiles. It killed him inside a little bit. He wanted to fix things; to at least get your friendship back even if he couldn't allow himself more. He would sneak glances at you as you joked and drank with your two friends, feeling a smile grace his face at your laughter. At least you were happy, he thought.

The four of you eventually ended up in one of Jungkook's many guest rooms. This one was a viewing room, as he called it. Special for whenever he wished to invite friends over for a movie. You all sat and shared some commentary at what was playing on screen. To any outsider, this would've looked like the perfect outing. And maybe it was to Mingyu and Jungkook. But the air between you and Wonwoo still felt tense, even despite the occasional nod of acknowledgement you'd make to one another whenever your eyes met.

In a very unpredictable turn of events, Mingyu had managed to get you and Wonwoo in a room alone, dragging Jungkook away under the excuse of doing an impromptu live for his fans. He knew Jungkook wouldn't miss the chance. You and Wonwoo sat next to each other in the now empty movie room, neither of you making a move. He saw you looking at your hands from his peripheral, solemn look on your face. You were usually very talkative and lively. He felt terrible at how his presence in your life had caused such a stark difference in your demeanor. So, he did what he usually wouldn't do, and spoke up first.

"I .. How have you been?"

Great way to break the silence, Wonwoo.

You sat in silence for a beat or two, "Wonwoo, it's fine. We don't have to do this. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is."

Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed?

"Embarrassed? At what?"

"Do I really have to say it? I thought I read things right. I thought maybe you might've maybe liked me back. I didn't .. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship over some stupid kiss.," you wouldn't look into his eyes as you spoke, even as he uncharacteristically stared at you with all his attention.

"You ... You didn't do anything wrong. I should've talked to you. Fuck. I should've apologized. I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. I panicked. It was so soon. I didn't want to pressure you," he had gotten up now, now sitting next to you on the couch.

"Pressure me? I kissed you. Well, tried to ..." you finally turned to look at him in his new proximity. Okay, progress, "I'm sorry, I kind of had an idea of what you were going through and still pushed you. It hurt me that you froze me out like that, but if it was what you felt like you needed to do, then I understand," you said with a sad smile that didn't meet your eyes.

God, why were you so understanding? He felt like an asshole. He was an asshole. Freezing you out was not something he wanted to do to you, but the result of his cowardice. He knew he had hurt you, but your admission to it only made him feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong! You- you did what I wanted to do that night. What I was going to do before I backed out like a coward. I wish I'd handled things differently. I wish I'd kissed you .. I-" he was beginning to feel shy at his almost-direct admissions of his feelings towards you, but he needed to continue. He was going to continue, but you had different plans.

As per usual, you knew him better than he did himself. You knew exactly how to salvage the situation without making him open up more than he felt comfortable with doing in his current emotional state. You grabbed his face, interrupting his speech, and ..

You kissed him.

"Like that?", you'd softly asked against his lips.

It was nothing like you'd see in movies. Just a small peck accompanied by your soft hands holding onto his cheeks.

You began to pull away almost immediately, too soon for Wonwoo's comfort. But that kiss had been enough for him to finally snap into action like he should've done weeks ago.

He grabbed you this time, pulling your lips against his again, putting much more into the kiss this time.

He'd never kissed someone like this. He'd kissed many people after his breakup. Hell, he'd done far more than kissing. But none of those moments held a candle to this one. Nothing compared to your soft moans against his lips, or the feeling of your pliant back against his palm. Nothing defeated the feeling of your hands restlessly looking for a place in his body to hold on to. He kissed you with every emotion that had been piling up since you two began to really get to know each other. No, since he first began to spiral into his depressive state. There was not a single emotion in Wonwoo's body that didn't go into that kiss.

Then came other stuff.

Wonwoo hadn't really thought about the sexual aspects of his attraction to you. Other than a few of the restless nights spent alone in his room, you in mind. As he kissed you, however, he couldn't help but begin to feel aroused. You were so pretty and so so soft against his arms. You had both begun to lean down, with his body hovering over yours, holding his body weight above you as not to crush you. You kissed mindlessly for a few minutes, at some point beginning to moan messily against each other's mouths.

Your tongue eventually came out to play with his, making him lightheaded at the sudden wetness of the kiss. You both began to feel dizzy, arousal clouding your minds. Wonwoo tried to pull away, wanting to confirm if what was happening was okay with you, but you wouldn't let him. Instead you pulled him even closer, forcing him all the way on top of you, your crotches now face to face. He decided to take the risk and begin a slow grind against you, which proved rewarding as you began to mewl against his lips, allowing his tongue to roam freely inside your mouth.

Then came even more stuff.

"Wo-wonwoo, please."

God, there was no way he would make it if that's how you sounded after just some light dry humping.

He managed to actually unglue himself from you this time; eyes lidded and breath heavy.

"Baby .. let me .. can I?", he questioned, hands approaching your nether area.

You grabbed his wrist, walking him the rest of the way, nodding desperately as you pressed his hand against your clothed cunt.

"Please, yes. I need you."

He undid the drawstring from your sweats, you aiding him in lowering your sweats just below your ass.

He neared you as much as possible as he began to rub your cunt over the thin fabric of your panties, kissing and biting at your neck as you mewled at the friction. He did this for a while until he decided to bury two of his fingers inside your cunt, making sure to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. He calculated his movements, wanting to go for a slow and steady pace that would have you lightheaded.

You moaned and whined at that, your body not knowing what to do at the pleasure Wonwoo was giving you.

He began to speak against your neck, praising your beauty and the way you oh so prettyly cried for him.

"Wonwoo .. oh, fuck Wonwoo please. Please ..." he wasn't sure what you were begging for, but he wanted more of it. So he sped up, wanting nothing more than to hear your cries of pleasure as he fingered you to completion.

Upon meeting your high, you disconnected from one another, still holding a very close proximity as you shyly smiled at each other. He helped you clean up the slight mess you had made on the couch under you, pulling your sweats all the way back up and helping you get on your feet. Neither of you said anything as he guided you out of Jungkook's apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to your friends. You both knew what you wanted with just a few looks at one another.

You then found yourselves in Mingyu's car. How Mingyu was going to get home, Wonwoo didn't know nor care. Payback for meddling, Wonwoo guessed. All he wanted now was to take you home and show you how much you meant to him.

He had his left hand on the wheel while the other held your hand over the console. You both felt giddy at the small displays of affection you'd been showing each other, sharing shy smiles and blushing at catching the other staring. It was kind of funny considering your current destination. It was all mostly wordless until your fast arrival to Mingyu and Wonwoo's shared apartment, where you both finally stopped to speak before entering the door.

"Wonwoo, wait," you stopped him before he was able to put his key in the lock.

"What's wrong?"

You seemed uneasy. Maybe this was too soon? Had he gone too far by what he did in Jungkook's house? Fuck. Okay, maybe fingering you in your friend's house while your friends were in the other room right after confessing to you (did he even confess ??) wasn't the best idea for a reconciliation. Maybe he should'v-

"Are you sure about this? I .. I don't wanna pressure you ..."

You were far too considerate of his feelings for his own good. But he didn't care about his feelings right now. He cared about yours. Because if you were happy, then he was happy. He just wanted you.

He turned his body to face you, grabbed both of your hands and squeezed lovingly. He no longer felt that sense of anxiousness when speaking his feelings to you. He felt at ease, and he wanted you to also.

"I'm sure. I want you. Anything you'll give me. If you want to go past that door and just let me hold your hand, I'll take it. If you want me to drive you back home, I'll do it. If you want to tell me off for making you wait for me to grow the balls to show you how I felt, I'll understand that too. Forget about my pace. It's been enough about me. I want to think about you. It's all about you," he finished his little speech feeling not an ounce of bashfulness, but rather an uncharacteristic sense of relief. He felt more than content at freely telling you how he was feeling.

You smiled up at him. "It's always about you for me, Wonwoo."

It took a bit of convincing from you, really. Repeating over and over again pleas and words of affirmation to ease his mind. He felt bad. He did say this was all about you. Which is why he'd insistently denied you when you first walked across the door, hand in hand, and immediately begged to suck his dick. He was caught off guard at first. He wanted to take care of you for once, not the other way around. You'd argued that he already had, insisting that he'd be doing you a favour by letting you get his cock in your mouth. Now, that .. that had gotten an involuntary reaction out of him. He couldn't help himself. You were a pretty girl - now his pretty girl - practically begging to get his dick wet. Batting your eyelashes at him and running your hands up and down his chest, muttering words such as "you'll let me take care of you, won't you?", or "i just wanna make you feel good," or his favorite "just a little bit, baby, want it so bad. been dreaming about it .."

That's how he now had you on your knees as he stood with his back against his front door, hands holding your hair out of your face as you tortured him with your tongue. You had prepared him by rubbing his dick for a minute or so, then moving onto kitten licking his tip and running your tongue ever so slowly up and down the protruding veins. You were taking your time, clearly enjoying his stuttered breaths above you.

You finally wrapped your mouth around him, sucking and licking at the tip, making all thought in his mind leave him immediately. He threw his head back against the wall at the pressure and warmth of your mouth, groaning out your name.

"Fuck .. just like that. Shit, I-fuck," there was no proper sentence that could leave his mouth as you fully enveloped his cock in your mouth, moaning around it.

Then he made the mistake of looking down, staring directly into your eyes, which were rolled back in pleasure, brows furrowed in concentration as you gave him your best performance. He hadn't known pleasure like this in ages, staring down at your pretty face as you lost yourself in the pleasure of the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You continued like this, doing everything that seemed to get a reaction out of him until drawing him almost to completion.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum. You gotta- fuck. Baby, wait. Wanna fuck you ..." he tried to stop you, not wanting to cut the night short before he could get you as close as physically possible to him, your walls warmly wrapped around him. The thought did not help matters, as he felt his end approach even sooner. You also did not seem to care, as you fastened your movements and moaned even louder against him, vibrations triggering his impending orgasm. You swallowed every bit he gave you, humming at the taste.

You must be evil, he thought, watching you continue to lightly suck and lick at him even past completion, not caring that he half-heartedly tried to push you away from the slight overstimulation. When you finally pulled away, he held your hands in order to get you back up to your full height, eyes glued to your lips. He couldn't help himself. He felt depraved at the thought, but he needed to taste you and the remnants of himself twirling in your tongue. So he did what any sensible man would do, and shoved his tongue in your mouth, intertwining yours and his as he sucked his remaining juices out of your mouth and gave them back to you as he dragged your tongue back and forth. You moaned loudly into his mouth, growing restless at the lack of pleasure where you needed him most.

You pulled away, and wordlessly gave him eyes that could only mean one thing. Your eyes always got to him. One look and he'd give you whatever you wanted, so he promptly held your hand once more and led you to his room, laying you down on his bed and slowly undressing you. He wanted to savour every part of your body he'd been dying to see. Every article of clothing he removed, he caressed the skin behind. He faced you away from him and felt you up from behind, running his hands up and down your body as you pressed yourself even more against him, dizzy at the pleasure of his hands against you. He fondled your breasts and ass, wanting to commit them to memory. You moaned at the way he touched you, enticing him to continue. After a while of worshiping your body, he laid you back down, your body now facing him, and undressed himself.

He felt a strong sense of pride at the moan the sight of his bare chest pulled out of you. Your hands drew themselves towards him as you ran them up and down his chest, forming goosebumps anywhere your fingertips graced. He finally lowered himself down and pressed your chests together, wanting to be as close as possible.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, as if it was a secret no one could ever know, "You're all mine now. Never letting you go again", he began to grind his bare length against you, now hard again against your folds.

You whined at his actions, mind clouded by his words of affection. "Nonu ... please. I need it. Need you, just- Argh! Fuck ..." he swiftly entered you, interrupting your pleas for him.

God, you felt so tight and warm around him. Your body so pliant and soft against his. He had never felt more bliss than when you arched your back and pressed your tits against his chest, harshly digging your nails on his shoulders as you moaned out his name.

Pleasure overtook his mind, making him wax poetic at you endlessly, letting out his deepest of feelings for you.

"Want you always. Can't breathe without you."

"Never wanna be away from you again. You're everything."

"Gonna keep you ... keep you close to me. Just like this ..."

Then came something not even he expected himself to utter.

"L-love you. Fuck. So much. Is it too soon? I love you. Never felt like t-fuck .. like this before."

His words seemed to have an instant effect on you, as you tightened impossibly harder around him, crying his name as your orgasm suddenly hit you. The tightening of your walls, along with knowing the effect he had on you, brought Wonwoo to his end almost immediately after, claiming his orgasm on your stomach as he pulled out with a high whine of your name.

A few minutes of cleaning you up later and Wonwoo found the both of you under his covers, you laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around one another, softly running his hands up and down your arm. No words exchanged between the two of you.

As per usual, you broke the silence, turning yourself to face his side while still in his hold. He mirrored your actions, holding you even closer as you stared into each other's eyes, shy smiles on your faces.

"I love you too. It's not too soon. I love you, Wonwoo."

Your words took his breath away once more. What he had confessed in the throes of passion was being reciprocated. He hadn't shared the three words with anyone ever since his break up. His breakup, which had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since he had realized his feelings for you.

You fell asleep like that; holding each other tightly and muttering words of affection at each other every so often until sleep won you over. Wonwoo had never had such peaceful sleep, having never had the pleasure of holding someone he cared so much about in his sleep.

The news broke out quickly. Not to the public, of course, but to Mingyu, who had found you in bed the next morning when he'd noticed your absences last night, rushing home worried that maybe his plan to get you two to talk had backfired. Safe to say that Mingyu smugly took credit over your reconciliation (he might've deserved maybe a 15% of the credit). Then the news broke out to the 97 liners, who happily welcomed Wonwoo back into the group under the name of honorary 97-liner. Then his group mates found out, along with yours. They were all very accepting, having noticed your feelings for one another before you even did. Finally, the news broke out to your shared company. This was the trickiest one, but your insistence in the validity of your love for one another was able to triumph over any obstacles.

It had now been a few months since that fateful night, the words I love you being uttered between the two of you daily. Even as you worked your busy idol schedules and had distance put between you every once in a while, your relationship prospered, giving Wonwoo a new sense of what being loved truly was. He no longer felt like his ex had been right about him being unlovable. You had taught him to know better, while he showed you the same care in return.

Wonwoo no longer winced at the mentions of his 'pre-debut girlfriend', but even laughed along at the memes his fans made about their favorite idol being taken. Now knowing that, yes, he was taken, but had something even better now; you.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #svt #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate it || Young!Coriolanus Snow X Reader

"I sit and watch you reading with your... head low"

Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt from him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with. Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), social isolation, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I was listening to Evermore after watching tbosas and Tolerate It was just SCREAMING Snow vibes. I was fidgeting with the gold charm of my pearl necklace while anxiously looking over at my husband whose nose was too deep into a book to seem to care about me. I dropped my gaze from him to scan across the table and room. Our large dining room was red with gold accent pieces I had spent the morning dusting decorating the walls. We both sat at opposite ends of the long table, ever too long to just seat two people but it seemed the man couldn't do anything at home if he was within five feet of me. A bouquet of roses I placed in a ceramic vase sat between us on the table. He loved roses, he always did, so I placed them there to brighten his day and maybe even spark up conversation between us. I polished the plates we ate on delicately and even spent the afternoon painting designs onto the back of them. I had done all this in hopes I'd receive some sort of compliment from him but alas, there was none. I sat back and reminisced on the days of our love before it was like this. Truly, when I had first married Coriolanus I had felt like my life had started a new chapter. We dated in the spring and summer time of the year after we graduated from the academy. He was top of the class and while I never matched him in intelligence he had seemingly randomly taken a liking to me. We were acquaintances at most before that and then he started talking to me any chance he could get. I would gush to my friends about his charming smile and posture and they would warn me of the rumors that went around about him. They would tell me to never get to close to him as all those who got did would end up disgraced, missing, or dead. In some masochistic way, I truly felt enthralled by his magnetic aura, danger, and the mystery that surrounded him. His bright red coat was as red as the flags that man was but the danger of it all excited me. He wasn't the nicest man out there but when he was nice to me, I felt unique. I was the exception to his coldness.

We'd go out on dates and he would shower me with sweet nothings. He would tell me how I was the light that lit up the darkness of his life. He said my beauty could turn a man to stone. I will never forget the way he kissed me on the busiest street in the capital under the dancing streetlights and how I felt like time had stopped in that moment. The way he stroked the side of my face so delicately and told me I was the only one who had ever made him feel so alive. I was holding onto every breath that man had exhaled hoping he'd inhale me further into his life. We'd spend days together and call at night. I didn't notice it at the time but in retrospect it was tactical. I spent every moment of my waking days with him and soon my life started to be built around him. Every phone call from a friend I received that spoke about him in any negative way made me push them away and out of my life even further. He was the only one I talked to. He is my world. We were two seeds that had gotten dropped into the same pot and were growing into each other.

In the fall, I fell for him harder than I ever had before. It came to a height when we were walking through a park and watched as the changing leaves fell from the trees. He held my hand in his and he held me so tight as if he was afraid I'd float away and leave him. I would never of course, my life would bend to his will. My head rested against his arm like the red coat he always wore. He'd recount to me stories of his life that would make me laugh and smile. His strikingly blonde hair blew in the wind softly and I noticed every detail of how his icy blue eyes would crinkle when he'd smile at me. He was like a beautiful painting whose artist was unknown. I remember thinking that all I would ever want to be in this life is as significant to him as he is to me. I remember the earth shattering halt my heart felt when he turned to me and dropped down to one knee and proposed. A smirk plastered his face when I said yes. He stood back up and pulled me in by the waist. One hand on my chin and the other on my lower back. The feeling of his warm, soft lips on mine and the feeling of his hair tangled between my fingers. I remember the ecstasy of the moment and the feeling that my friends were wrong, the world was wrong, no one knew Coriolanus like I knew him. He wasn't a cold, calculated, and constantly plotting man, he was just misunderstood. When he pulled away from the kiss, he whispered in my ear that he would live a thousand life times if it meant he got to love me in the next. I remembered everything.

That was the first night we spent together. He snuck me into his house and we giggled in his bedroom when he shut the door. We told each other secrets and moved the furniture so we could dance. My head was placed onto his chest and we swayed to the sound of the music playing from his grandmothers record player. We shared moments of passion in his bed, fell asleep in each others arms, and woke up tangled in bed sheets. I remember thinking he was truly mine.

We married shortly after in the beginning of December. The ceremony was lavish and beautiful. I remember the way his fingers tucked my hair behind my ear. A single tear fell from his eyes and he leaned in and kissed me. He must've been so taken aback from my beauty as I was with his. Only one of my friends attended the wedding but I was too happy that I was marrying the man of my dreams to care. The first weeks of our married life were wondrous. He had risen to power and we had moved into the absolute gargantuan mansion we live in today. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off me and I was the diamond of his eyes. He loved to show me off for the cameras and crowds. Then one day, winter came and roses don't survive.

It started off small. He didn't want to talk or cuddle in bed at night anymore. I assumed he was just tired from working so hard. Then he stopped complimenting my outfits or hair, trading them with passive aggressive comments and ways I could improve myself for him. He no longer wanted to talk at dinner. We stopped speaking at some point. He wouldn't want to hear my voice unless it was to service him. In public, he still was my adoring husband but in private, I felt like I was living with a stranger. At night, I can hear him whispering sweet nothings to the air and humming melodies and I can only hope he's dreaming about me.

These days, I haven't been sleeping, I've been trying to listen in and see if I can make out the words he is saying in his sleep but I haven't been able to make out any other words than lines about trees. While he is having his meetings all day, I am constantly doing new diets, trying new makeup, new hair, decorating the house differently, leaving loving notes on his desk, anything to try and earn a compliment from him. Even if a compliment is too much, I am begging for a word from that man. I love him. I still love him. I don't believe it is possible for me to stop loving him. I can't dare to think of loving any one else. He is so much wiser, and smarter, and more beautiful than I am and I find myself becoming the moon to his earth. I spin around him, pulled in by his orbit except, I'm not his moon. I'm just a star in his sky that is begging to be his sun. I just want a footnote in the story of his life. Even an annotation on a page of his story will be enough for me.

The sound of him placing his heavy book onto the table pulled me out of my trance and my eyes met his blue ones once more. Instantly, I am struck frozen. His eyes had such a way of pulling you in. I looked down at his lips as they pressed a small smirk and his eyes squinted a little while he picked up his fork from the table and looked at me. He examined my appearance and I sat up straighter. The thick tension in the air put me on edge. Finally, his lips parted and he spoke.

"Is that a new hair color?" he asked, keeping his eyes laser focused on me.

"It is... d- do you like it?" He looked me over again and leaned back in his chair contemplating what to say next. Then, shortly, sweetly, and sharply, he muttered the word,

"Tolerable"

~

PART TWO PART THREE

#coriolanus snow #fanfic #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #angst #fanfiction #tom blyth #the hunger games #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #president snow #young president snow #tom blyth x you #tbosas imagine

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

#commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #tbb wolffe #wolffe x reader #clone trooper wolffe #wolffe x you #star wars wolffe #clone wars wolffe #the bad batch wolffe #rebels wolffe #star wars #clones #fanfic #clone wars #the clone wars #clone trooper sinker #clone trooper comet #plo koon #jedi #tbb #fics #one shot #oneshot #the clones #clone troopers #wolf pack #104th battalion #master plo koon #female reader #jedi reader

[ixlander]

         What is the family? So deep runs the idea that the family is the exclusive place where people are safe, where people come from, where people are made, and where people belong, it doesn’t even feel like an idea anymore. Let us unpick it, then.          The family is the reason we are supposed to want to go to work, the reason we have to go to work, and the reason we can go to work. It is, at root, the name we use for the fact that care is privatized in our society. And because it feels synonymous with care, “family” is every civic-minded individual’s raison d’être par excellence: an ostensibly non-individualist creed and unselfish principle to which one voluntarily signs up without thinking about it. What alternative could there be? The economic assumption that behind every “breadwinner” there is a private someone (or someones) worth being exploited for, notably some kind of wife—that is, a person who is likely a breadwinner too—“freely” making sandwiches with the hard-won bread, or hiring someone else to do so, vacuuming up the crumbs, and refrigerating leftovers, such that more bread can be won tomorrow: this feels to many of us like a description of “human nature.”          Without the family, who or what would take responsibility for the lives of non-workers, including the ill, the young, and the elderly? This question is a bad one. We don’t hesitate to say that nonhuman animals are better off outside of zoos, even if alternative habitats for them are growing scarcer and scarcer and, moreover, they have become used to the abusive care of zoos. Similarly: transition out of the family will be tricky, yes, but the family is doing a bad job at care, and we all deserve better. The family is getting in the way of alternatives.          In part, the vertiginous question “what’s the alternative?” arises because it is not just the worker (and her work) that the family gives birth to every day, in theory. The family is also the legal assertion that a baby, a neonatal human, is the creation of the familial romantic dyad; and that this act of authorship in turn generates, for the authors, property rights in “their” progeny—parenthood—but also quasi-exclusive accountability for the child’s life. The near-total dependence of the young person on these guardians is portrayed not as the harsh lottery that it patently is, but rather as “natural,” not in need of social mitigation, and, furthermore, beautiful for all concerned. Children, it is proposed, benefit from having only one or two parents and, at best, a few other “secondary” caregivers. Parents, it is supposed, derive nothing so much as joy from the romance of this isolated intensity. Constant allusions to the hellworld of sheer exhaustion parents inhabit notwithstanding, their condition is sentimentalized to the nth degree: it is downright taboo to regret parenthood. All too seldom is parenthood identified as an absurdly unfair distribution of labor, and a despotic distribution of responsibility for and power over younger people. A distribution that could be changed.         Like a microcosm of the nation-state, the family incubates chauvinism and competition. Like a factory with a billion branches, it manufactures “individuals” with a cultural, ethnic, and binary gender identity; a class; and a racial consciousness. Like an infinitely renewable energy source, it performs free labor for the market. Like an “organic element of historical progress,” writes Anne McClintock in Imperial Leather, it worked for imperialism as an image of hierarchy-within-unity that grew “indispensable for legitimating exclusion and hierarchy” in general. For all these reasons, the family functions as capitalism’s base unit—in Mario Mieli’s phrase, “the cell of the social tissue.” It may be easier to imagine the end of capitalism, as I’ve riffed elsewhere, than the end of the family. But everyday utopian experiments do generate strands of an altogether different social tissue: micro-cultures which could be scaled up if the movement for a classless society took seriously the premise that households can be formed freely and run democratically; the principle that no one shall be deprived of food, shelter, or care because they don’t work.

Sophie Lewis, Abolish the Family

#sophie lewis #abolish the family

[marihoneywk]

A dragon's ambition

Jacaerys Velaryon x older stepsister - one shot

Summary: Growing up under her father's influence in the Red Keep, Alysanne becomes determined to claim the Iron Throne. Feeling the sting of being overlooked and fuelled by ambition, Alysanne hatches a plan that involves the seduction of the heir to throne, her stepbrother Jacaerys, who also happens to be her half-sister's betrothed.

Warnings: incest (stepsiblings that are cousins), sexual content, p in v, tiddy succin, breeding kink, some fluff, third person narrative, oc is manipulative.

Word count: 3.8 k

Alysanne Targaryen was the oldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen. Conceived in the only night Lady Rhea Royce and Daemon spent together, Alysanne wasn’t a desired child, as her mother secretly tried to end the pregnancy.

However, Alysanne was tough and stubborn since the womb and came into the world crying so loud, the whole Vale could hear her. 

Daemon welcomed his daughter to live with him in the Red Keep upon her third name day, raising her in his own ways, educating her to be cunning and fearless.

Alysanne had grown up to be her father’s female version, a thing that scared Daemon. Her sharp mind aligned with her ethereal looks, made a dangerous combination that didn’t let any man escape. With her sweet eyes and big eyelashes, not even the guards were able to refuse a single request she made, crumbling immediately to her pleads. 

Alysanne liked her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, but didn’t love them. They were nice and fun to be around, but she couldn’t stop wandering if perhaps her life would be better, if they weren’t around. 

She also liked to believe she was her father’s favourite daughter, even if she wasn’t sure. It was only fair right? Baela and Rhaena had their own mother to favour them, while Alysanne only had Daemon. Her mother had a brief presence in her life, dying in a tragic accident with her horse three moons before Alysanne moved to Kings Landing. 

Alysanne’s life was pleasant enough, but then, Lady Laena Velaryon died and Baela and Rhaena were also left with only one parent.

They just seemed to want everything Alysanne had.

First, they played dress up with her gowns, then they ate all her honey cakes at breakfast and then finally got her father’s attention to themselves, as Daemon focused more on the twins, supporting then through their grief. 

Then, Rhaenyra came and married her father. 

Alysanne liked Rhaenyra though. She let the girl use her earrings and necklaces, and even gifted her some dresses from her younger years. But what Alysanne liked the most about her new stepmother was the fact that she was set to be next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, making Alysanne feel like she could just touch the Iron Throne

As a result of being raised in the Red Keep until moving to Pentos, Alysanne quickly learned the power of that seat. 

Even if she didn’t understand how Viserys got there, as an ant and him had the same skills to be king, every time he passed by her in the halls, she could not divert her eyes from the shining crown on top of his balding head. Suddenly her dreams were filled with images of her sitting in the Iron Trone, wearing long bright dresses and matching jewels. 

-

Alysanne and her family had just come back from the capital, landing victoriously in Dragonstone after securing Lucerys’ inheritance of Driftmark.

However, Alysanne couldn’t be madder. It had been announced to everyone the official betrothal of Lucerys and Rhaena, and Jacaerys and Baela.

How could her father and stepmother do this to her? She was the first Daemon’s daughter to become of age to wed, and they had just putted her aside, betrothing her younger sister to the future king of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Jacaerys and Alysanne weren’t very close, as the two-year age gap between them didn’t align their interests with each other. It was a small difference of age, but Jace was a typically childish boy, which contrasted with the more mature personally of the girl.

Of all her siblings, she preferred the younger ones, Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys. 

Their small age made it easier to shape their small minds into Alysanne’s likings. The girl quickly became their favourite sister as she would be the one that spent more time with them, playing, reading, and teaching them everything that she valued. Joffrey became so attached to the girl’s presence in his daily activities, that sometimes he would cry in his bed for her, and as a good sister, Alysanne would leave her chambers and put the boy to sleep with kisses on the forehead and loving lullabies.

-

Daemon had called Alysanne into his study , noticing the annoyed expression that hadn’t left his daughter’s face the whole trip to Dragonstone.  

“What’s wrong with you? You are acting different since last night.” Daemon asked looking directly into Alysanne’s eyes.

Alysanne wondered if she should tell her father what she was thinking exactly. Daemon liked honesty but she wasn’t sure if honesty was the right path to follow in this conversation.

“Why are Baela and Rhaena getting married before me?” Not exactly the centre of the matter that was bothering her, but it was close. 

Daemon laughed, not believing his daughter’s bad mood was caused by her sisters betrothals.

“Do you want a wedding for yourself, daughter? I didn’t know you were so eager to be attached to a man and to be popping out heirs.” Alysanne only rolled her eyes, not having the patience to her father’s typical comments. “I don’t understand your little tantrum Alysanne, if anything you should be thankful you don’t have to marry yet. But if you really are that desperate to get wed, Cregan Stark’s wife just passed away. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a Targaryen beauty like you being given to him.”

Alysanne immediately laughed in her father’s face, letting the anger that was slowing boiling beneath her skin finally snap.

“No!” She yelled, slamming her hands down on the wodden desk that stood in the middle of the room.

“No?” Daemon repeated, not expecting her outburst.

“How is that fair? Baela gets to be queen, and I get send away to freeze in the North?” Her loud voice echoed through the chambers, as Alysanne couldn’t believe her father’s suggestion.”I’m the oldest girl! I’m your oldest daughter, I should be the one getting my ass cozy in the throne! Not Baela!” She screamed and pointed her indicator finger to her father in an accusing manner. 

Daemon was shocked but without hesitation jumped in defence of his other daugther.

“You’re not going to speak about Baela like that again! Do you hear me Alysanne?!” Daemon’s shook her shoulders, letting his temper take the best of him.

Alysanne felt her eyes water and her throat itch, as she tried to contain the sobs she was holding back. Her father had never screamed at her, and not once he had directed his anger towards her like that.

The feeling of injustice settled once again on Alysanne’s chest, hurting like the sobs in her throat. 

“You’re going to inherit Runestone, isn’t that great already?” Daemon asked rhetorically and left the room they had entered, slamming the door on his way making Alysanne shudder. 

“Why have only Runestone when you can have all the Seven Kingdoms…” She whispered to the empty office as the tears finally fell from her eyes. 

Alysanne had one goal: be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And to accomplish that goal, she traced a plan that involved betraying her half-sister and her father. 

It would hurt, because she loved her father very much, but lately Daemon had been so distant from Alysanne and so close to Baela, that she didn’t feel that terrible doing it. 

-

Jacaerys was sitting in the beach of Dragonstone playing with little Viserys in the sand. Alysanne got closer and started an innocent conversation.

“Hello Jace.” She smiled gracefully at him. 

“Hi Aly.” He returned the jest, turning his attention to young boy next to him as he tried to stand to the sight of Alysanne.

“Hello to you too my love.” Viserys immediately put his little chubby arms in the air, begging for his sister to pick him up, showing his small teeth in a smile.

Alysanne bended over to pick up the babe, making sure she aligned the low neckline of her dress with Jacaerys’ eyesight. 

She turned to the older boy, now with the younger one on her right hip, and notice his red cheeks and the bobbing of his throat.

“How are you feeling brother?” Alysanne asked.

“A-, what-… what do you mean?” He was nervous. Like she had caught him doing something bad.

“About the betrothal, Jace. How are you feeling now that you are about the be a married man?”

“I’m content Aly, Baela is a kind and nice girl. It could be a lot worse.“ 

Alysanne knew he was being honest. Baela and Jacaerys were really good friends, and considering the Westerosi history in arranged marriages, she agreed that he definitely could have gotten worse.

“Do you think she will make a fine Queen?” She questioned him while sitting on the sand next to him, putting Viserys in her lap.

“With Daemon and my mother educating her, I don’t see how she could ever do wrong.” 

Alysanne started playing innocently with a curl on the side of Jacaerys' head, twirling it on her fingers. She pretended to not notice the chill on his neck and moved her hand to massage the curls on the top of his hair. 

“I agree with you brother, Baela would be a nice Queen. But would she be a nice Queen to you?” 

“I don’t understand Aly.” Jacaerys was getting flustered, getting distracted from the conversation as the girl's hands played so smoothly with his hair and her breasts were sitting so prettily in a pink dress. 

“A Queen should not only serve the realm, but should also serve her husband, the King. You know that right?” From his expression, it was clear that Jacaerys still wasn’t getting Alysanne’s point. “The marital bed is how Queens serve their Kings, brother. By giving them pleasure.” Alysanne smirked seeing Jacaerys’ blushed cheeks, laughing lightly when he avoided looking at her eyes. 

-

It was the middle of the night, and the castle was sleeping peacefully, except for Alysanne, who was just leaving her chambers, wearing nothing but her thin nightgown. Tiptoeing carefully on the stone floors to not alert any guards, she made her way to a room she had been very few times. 

Opening and closing the door quietly, she let her eyes wander through the dark chambers, stopping on the big bed and on the dark tuff of hair resting on the pillows. Jacaerys was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of his sister’s presence in his room.

Alysanne made her way to the bed, seating behind Jacaerys’ back, leaning carefully in his ear. 

“Jace…” She whispered while letting her index finger wander through his neck. 

The boy started to wake up, opening his eyes slowly trying to adjust to the lack of light. 

“Alysanne?” He interrogated turning his body to face her. 

“I think I saw a spider in my room. Can I sleep with you tonight Jace?” Alysanne pouted, batting her eyelashes the best she could, but the doubt in Jacaerys’ eyes was still visible.

“Aly, I don’t think it’s appropriate. If somebody catches you, we might get in trouble.” 

As much as his words were denying her, Alysanne noticed how his eyes went down to her nipples, that had perked due to coldness of the space, and were now very visible through her white nightgown. 

“Please Jace.” She pleaded, putting her hands his shoulders. “The spider was very big, and you know how scared I am of bugs.” 

“Fine, but you have to leave before the morning comes.” 

“Thank you Jace, you the best brother.” Alysanne kissed his cheek, making her breasts collide with his chest, and even in the dark atmosphere of the room, she could very much recognize his blushing look. 

Alysanne got under the covers, making herself comfortable on the second pillow of the bed. At first, she gave Jacaerys some distance, but as the minutes passed, she slowly began to move herself close to the boy. She was facing him, observing his closed eyes, and almost laughed at his failed attempt to pretend to sleep. 

Alysanne once again, let her fingers wander through his chest, following the patterns of his garment. 

“Aly…go to sleep” Jacaerys mumbled with his eyes still closed.

“I’m trying Jacey…” 

Alysanne lifted her right foot, making a gentle path up and down in his leg, not going up above the knee. 

Jacaerys stopped her foot from continuing to move, holding it tightly with his hand. 

“What are you doing Alysanne?” He said as he finally opened his eyes, giving her a serious look.

“I’m just caressing my brother. I like to make you feel good.” She muttered, now rubbing his leg with the foot that wasn’t trapped in his hand. 

Jacaerys closed his eyes once again, but this time doing it as mechanism to calm himself. Alysanne moved her eyes down the covers, espying the bulge on the boy’s breeches. She bitted her lip and drawn her face close to his, letting their noses touch slightly.

Alysanne could feel his warm but shaky breath, also smelling the scent of lavender in his hair.

“Jace, let me make you feel good tonight…” Jacaerys whole body got chills, as the girl whispered and started to kiss his neck, making a trail to his jaw. 

“Aly-, I- “He hummed, moving his hand from her foot, tightening his grip on her ankle.” I’m betrothed do Baela, and I can’t let yourself be ruined for your future husband.” 

“I appreciate your concern for my reputation brother, but I’m not a maiden anymore.” 

Alysanne didn’t let Jacaerys make any questions, biting his neck roughly which led to a loud grunt echoing through the room. 

“Carefully Jacey, you don’t mommy Rhaenyra to catch us don’t you? Or worse, my father and my sister. Can you imagine?” She said licking the spot behind his ear. 

Jacaerys just shook his head and surrendered to whatever Alysanne planned to do with him. 

Alysanne switched positions, straddling him with her legs, seating right on top of his erect cock. Jacaerys moaned and the girl took his hands putting them across her hips.

“Do you want to see me bare brother? Do you wish to see and touch my soft skin?” 

“Yes, Aly…yes.” His hands tensed around her hips, and Alysanne moved them again, letting them rest against her rear. Jacaerys immediately groaned, hardening his grip, possibly leaving bruises on her skin.

Alysanne rubbed herself against Jacaerys’ bulge, and because her only piece of clothing was a nightgown, the only thing separating them was his breeches, causing both to moan at the contact. 

The room was getting hotter, with the heavy breathing and sweat that started to glisten in their bodies warming up the atmosphere.

Jacaerys’ eyes were close, and his head empty of thoughts, the mere feeling of his stepsister’s cunt making him dumb.

Alysanne´s hands moved to the straps of her nightgown, pushing them down just enough to show her tits.

“Jacey, open your eyes my love.” She whispered in his ear and the boy followed her request, coming to immediate disbelief, not expecting Alysanne’s bust to be right in front his face.

“Can I?” He asked nervously, not having the courage to express in full words what he wanted to say exactly.

The girl nodded, and carefully, Jace moved his hands touching Alysanne’s tits like they were a fragile piece of glass. She chuckled teasingly as his index fingers made round movements around her nipples.

“You can go harder you know? I’m not a doll.”

Jacaerys, hearing her words, gripped both of her breasts roughly, and as a moan left his stepsister’s mouth, he got even harder, felling like the fabric of his breeches was about to rip.

Alysanne grabbed his hair, pushing his head close to her chest. “Suck them brother.”

He widened his eyes, taking some seconds to fully process her words, and Alysanne, with her lack of patience, pulled his hair harder with her fingers, moving his head forcefully in the direction her tits.

If Jacaerys got uncomfortable with the sudden lack of delicacy of his stepsister, he didn’t show it, as he immediately opened his mouth and sucked on Alysanne’s left breast like a hungry babe.

“Fuck…You are so good Jace. Can´t believe I only discovered you now.” The Targaryen girl opened her mouth in silent moans, never once stopping her hips from moving against her stepbrother’s lap.

Jacaerys felt like his cock was going to explode. Never once in his life he had been this hard.

He had noticed Alysanne’s looks before, always having to look away when the siblings would go for a swim in the beach of Dragonstone, and her shift would stick to her body, giving him a perfect view of her bottom and chest. He was still in disbelief, but the feeling of guilt or treason had vanished from his head since he felt her bare cunt against him.

Alysanne moved Jace’s head again, withdrawing his mouth from her breast, making a thin thread of spit connect to her nipple. His eyebrows raised in a frown, as he didn’t like that he got stopped, until the girl carefully raised her hips, and slowly started to unlace his breaches.

“Are you ready brother?” She questioned and the boy nodded without hesitation, eager to finally feel her pussy fully around him.

Alysanne was pleasantly surprised upon the sight of her stepbrother’s cock. With only a handful of sexual experiences with one of the knights of the Dragonstone, Jacaerys’ manhood was big in length and width. Alysanne debuted her hand could fully close around it.

Before pushing her hips down again, the girl took her nightgown off, throwing it to some corner of the room.

Her cunt was glistening with wetness, making Jacaerys grunt at the sight.

Alysanne pushed one finger inside of her, whining at the feeling, only to pull it out and slowly press her wet and shiny digit to Jace’s lips.

The boy didn’t expect this action, but quickly let the surprise get away and instead allowed the curiosity to take hold of him. Opening his mouth carefully, he licked the wet substance that was touching his lips, being interrupted as Alysanne shoved her wet finger inside in mouth. Just like he did with her nipple, Jacaerys sucked like his life depended on it, loving the sweet taste of his stepsister in his mouth. It was sweater than any dessert he had ever tasted, and more addicting than any wine in the Seven Kingdoms.

The Targaryen girl chuckled amused with this moment, proceeding to leave delicate kisses on his neck.

Taking her finger of Jacaerys’ mouth, Alysanne connected her gaze with his, as she aligned his cock with her cunt, finally sinking down.

Both moaned loudly at the sensation. Alysanne felt full to a point of pain, and Jacaerys felt a tight and warm embrace in his manhood, that it was close enough to make him come.

“Fuck Jacey.” Alysanne pulled their lips together in a lustful and passionate kiss. It was hungry and desperate, both chasing each other’s tongue, not worrying about syncing the movements.

Alysanne started to move her hips, first at a slow pace, wanting to adjust to her stepbrother large cock, but Jacaerys was already impatient and wanted more. Groaning, he took hold of her hips, and pressed her down more on him. Alysanne felt like she could sob from pleasure, and moved her hips faster, making herself and Jace see stars.

“Aly you feel so good.” He moaned breathy, pressing small kisses on her tits.

The bed moved against the stone wall, making a noise that echoed through the room, but not high enough that could silence their sounds of pleasure.

Alysanne, feeling her leg muscles starting to get tired, slowed down a little, and Jace, sensing that, began to move his own hips upwards, thrusting into Alysanne´s pussy without mercy.

The girl’s eyes watered as his cock touched that spot, forcing her to bite into Jacaerys’ shoulder to prevent the scream that was about to leave her mouth from waking their family up.

They exchange gazes, and Jacaerys thought he was seeing an angle, upon the sight of Alysanne´s face. Her silver long hair was a mess, and her cheeks were flustered and red, but what really mesmerised him were her teary violet eyes and swollen lips. If he was meant to go to one of the seven heavens, he was sure they would never be more beautiful than this view.

Seeing his deep stare, Alysanne smiled softly and pressed a small kiss on Jacaerys’ lips.

“I’m close Aly.” He said making a low sound that rattled in his throat.

“Come inside me Jacey. Please brother.” She begged and the boy was quick to nod in agreement, but Alysanne could still see the hesitation in his eyes. She pushed Jace against the mattress, taking command of the pace again, and with all her strength, she rode Jace like the dragonrider she was.

“Gods...” He whispered, one hand on her back and the other on her ass, squeezing it tightly.

Fire burned in Alysanne’s belly, as her climax was also approaching. She moved her hand down, reaching for her cunt and toyed with her clit, wanting to reach the orgasm together with Jace.

Alysanne pressed her forehead with his, the sweat sticking their hair together, and Jacaerys’ brown eyes widen with adoration.

He felt like this was meant to be, Alysanne’s deep violet eyes looking into his and his hands worshiping every piece of her skin. He wasn´t sure if should be thanking the gods for her existence, as in the moment she was a goddess herself.

“Come on brother, let me give you a sweet babe with dark hair.” As this sentence left Alysanne´s mouth, Jacaerys’ was unable to hold it anymore and with a trembling heart, he lifted his large palm, and slapped the girl’s ass forcefully, immediately leaving a red bruise. Alysanne gasped, and finally, together, both reached their release. Alysanne clung to him, coming with a loud cry, and Jacaerys buried his face on her neck, muffling a deep moan into her skin.

Alysanne felt the warm release of her stepbrother filling her, and smiled, allowing her hips to continue moving, wanting to prolong both of their pleasure.

“Fuck...” Jace’s tired voice spoke as he carefully withdrawn her from his lap.

Alysanne moved to his side, putting her head in his chest and looked directly into his eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?” She questioned teasingly.

“What do you think?” The boy laughed and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

The silence that now filled the room was an extreme contrast to the loud atmosphere that was bursting moments before.

Alysanne got what she wanted, and the happiness of being able to accomplish her goal, mixed with the pleasure she had felt, had brought her to a state of bliss.

Jacaerys on the other hand, was now contemplating his future. If his betrothal to Baela wasn´t important some minutes ago, now it was a screaming thought in his head.

When the betrothal was announced, he never for once got sad about it, with Baela being a kind and beautiful girl. But now, after having Alysanne in his arms, he knew that entire years of a marriage with Baela wouldn’t bring him the happiness he felt in a single night with Alysanne.

#jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys Velaryon x original female character #jacaerys x oc

[nowgiveusakiss]

as long as you love me so

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s never liked christmas but maybe you can fix that. 8.9k

warnings: brief mentions of a neglectful childhood

Eddie wasn’t one for celebrating Christmas. Always throwing out excuses like ‘it’s capitalism at work’ or ‘it’s based on some made up story about some random dude’ when his friends ask him what his holiday plans are. He doesn’t actually hate the holiday, he’s just never seen a point in it. Most of his childhood was spent with a drunk father and a runaway mother, so Christmas was never even on the table.

Constantly listening to the other kids talk about what they got for Christmas or what they were writing on their lists or trips to some ski lodge. Eddie can’t sit here and say that it didn’t hurt. When he was still in elementary school, before Uncle Wayne, he used to make up stories about gifts he got. Creating this fantasy world where his parents were picture perfect and spoiled him with everything he could ever desire.

Once he was in middle school, he stopped playing make believe. His dad’s mistakes finally caught up to him and his mom never came back, so Uncle Wayne stepped up. His view on life became pretty cynical after that.

Wayne tried his hardest to give Eddie a normal Christmas but Eddie was no fool. He knew Wayne couldn’t afford the Christmas he used to dream about. After watching Wayne calculate and recalculate bills all for some silly holiday, Eddie assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“Wayne, I don’t need anything. I can’t even think of anything I would want anyway so don’t worry about it.” A lie. Eddie could think of plenty things he wants but none of it was worth watching Wayne work himself to the bone for. Wayne tries to argue with 12 year old Eddie but both Munsons are stubborn as bulls.

After Eddie threatens to sleep outside and skip school every day in protest, Wayne finally relents. He knows deep down that financially, he can’t make it happen. No matter how badly he wishes he could.

Christmas was a luxury the Munsons couldn’t afford.

They grow accustomed to the mundaneness of it all. letting each Christmas pass them by as if it were any other day. Never any decorations. No lights, no tree, no cookies for Santa. Rather than indulging in the traditions that come with the season, Wayne and Eddie use this time to rake in some extra cash. Wayne picking up shifts at the plant so the guys with families can celebrate with their own. Eddie offering house calls for an extra fee, taking advantage of the fact that kids need something to take the edge off but are trapped in their homes by demand of the parents. Both boys not giving a second thought to the day. It never mattered, especially not to Eddie.

Until he met you.

You’re the pretty little thing that works at the local record store. A quiet girl. Probably doesn’t even realize how pretty she is, Eddie thinks. He remembers you from Hawkins High, having meant to graduate in the same class as you but Eddie never claimed to be a scholar. Now here he is on his third try of senior year. But this year is gonna be his year. He can feel it.

Eddie is a frequent visitor to your store. He visits at least four times a week. He could lie and say he comes in so often to keep up to date with new releases but really he comes in for you. To see how you styled your hair, what color skirt you picked out, whether you decided to wear makeup that day. He’s even got your schedule memorized, only now realizing what a creep he must seem like to you.

What Eddie doesn’t know is that you remember him from school too. He sat up one desk and to the right from you in Mrs. Demoine’s algebra class. He doesn’t know you used to watch him solve the problems in his head. Or that you picked up his habit of sticking his tongue out when he’s focused. Or that you admire the boldness of him being unapologetically himself in a community that thinks him evil. You know better than them. You saw the way Eddie took those kids under his wing, treating them as if they were his little brothers. His prodigies.

A few months pass of Eddie silently pretending to look through records before he decides to finally speak to you.

You’re lost in cataloging the newest shipment of The Smith’s latest album, having been selling out fairly quickly.

“Do you guys have any Metallica?” You snap your head up at the familiar voice, doubting there’s anyway he could be speaking to you. When your eyes meet his, you realize that he is, in fact, speaking to you.

The Eddie Munson is currently leaning over the counter you’re working, into your personal space. breathing your air, asking you a question. You fumble with the tape you’re holding and it clatters down on to the countertop.

“Shit- um, yeah. Yeah, we have Metallica. Are you looking for something specific?” Your hands are shaking as you try to put the tape back into it’s case. How were you supposed to keep cool when Eddie was staring at you with those big brown eyes? It’s practically impossible.

Eddie sees you’re shaking and fears that you might be scared of him. He knows what people say about him. Maybe you believe them. Maybe he should just walk away from you before you tell all your friends how the freak tried to lure you into his satanic cult.

But then again, you’re looking up at him with the kindest eyes he’s ever seen. He can see that you’re nervous but maybe that’s the lingering shyness he remembers from high school, not fear.

“We actually just got the vinyl’s for Master of Puppets last night, if that’s what you’re looking for.” You’re trying to fill the silence that Eddie left, not answering your initial question. Instead just staring at you. But you seem to snap him out of whatever trance he was in and he visibly relaxes his shoulders.

Your soft smile puts Eddie at ease. There’s no way a nice girl like you would ever believe those stupid rumors. The way you’re looking at him as if he’s the only person in the room makes his stomach churn.

“You read my mind.” He flashes a cheshire grin, all teeth and round cheeks. You tell him where he can find it as if he doesn’t know exactly what section Metallica is under. Eddie turns around in a slow circle to examine the entirety of the shop, feigning ignorance. When his gaze finally meets yours, he gives you his best ‘lost in the woods’ look.

“Well you know, miss, I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. Would you mind showing me the way?” Your immediate reaction is confusion. Eddie probably knows this store better than you as much as he’s here. He’s even bought a Metallica tape from you before. He’s got this look on his face, like he knows a secret you don’t.

It clicks.

Eddie Munson is flirting with you.

That was in march of ‘86. You two have been inseparable since. You’ve met all his friends, gone to his D&D sessions, met Uncle Wayne, even cheered him on at graduation. But neither of you has taken the risk of asking the dreaded boyfriend/girlfriend question. Preferring to stay in the comfort of friendship and occasional flirting.

Okay, frequent flirting.

It’s actually through this innocent flirting that the topic of christmas comes up. Eddie’s got on this huge red sweater with a bow stuck to the front, a gag gift from Dustin for Eddie’s birthday. You just had to see him in it before it eventually landed in the dump.

His face is screwed up in pure disgust. Yours is alight with amusement. Giggling and clapping as if it’s the funniest thing you’ve seen all year. It’s definitely in the top three.

“Real handsome, teddy. You look like a christmas present that I’m just dying to unwrap.” You finish with a cheeky wink and laugh as Eddie’s ears turn a lovely shade of pink.

“Really? A Christmas present? I’m gonna hurl.” Eddie let’s out a cackle at your face, his crude language always catching you off guard. You’re the sweet to his sour. Once he’s ripped the sweater off and chucked it in the bin, you ponder his response.

“What do you have against Christmas, Munson?” You throw your legs over his and settle back onto the arm of the couch. His warm hands immediately seeking out your calves, rubbing up and down.

“Christmas is just another way the man keeps us in the cycle. Making money off us for their own gain. Plus, the whole red and green thing, totally not my style.” He looks over at you to find you’re looking at him as if he’s personally offended you.

“How pessimistic of you. I love Christmas!” Eddie watches in awe and adoration as you list off all the things you love about the season. Ranting and raving about gift giving and putting up a pretty tree with handmade ornaments. While he loves your enthusiasm, he just can’t seem to get on board.

Thus begins the months long debate over Christmas. Slight jabs at his bah humbug attitude and nicknames like Mr. Grinch and Scrooge. But it’s around July that Eddie really starts to comprehend your love of the holiday. And maybe he’s coming around to the idea of celebrating. You joke that his heart has grown two inches, although that would be near deadly considering how big of a heart the boy has already.

As the holidays approach, your badgering becomes a daily occurrence. You show up at the auto shop where Eddie is now working as a mechanic on an early November afternoon. He's covered in grease and his hair is held back in a loose ponytail. Your mouth goes dry at the sight. His sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos, sweat dripping down the front of his unbuttoned uniform despite the chill in the air.

“Munson, your girls here!” His coworker calls out to him over the sound of machines whirring. You flush at the idea of being Eddie’s girl. Eddie doesn’t correct him.

“Well, well, well.. what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” It’s a harmless comment. No where near as scandalous as some of the other things he’s said to you. Yet, you’re shying away like some lovesick school girl.

He’s beaming at you as he meets you halfway, not wanting you to get too far into the shop. He’s always scolding you for wandering around, lecturing you on how dangerous it is. Always receiving an “okay, daddy. whatever you say.” in jest, clearly mocking him in your tone. Eddie ignores the feeling that kicks up in his abdomen at the name. He is also trying to ignore that same feeling when he sees the skirt you’re wearing. Instead focusing on the motions of wiping his hands on the rag he kept tucked in the back pocket of his uniform.

“I came to ask you a very serious and important question.” Eddie halts his movements, white knuckling the rag in his fist.

“Okay, lay it on me.” He gestures to a more secluded area, away from the ears of his coworkers. His hand is hovering over your lower back as he leads you, not wanting to dirty your top. Especially if you’re already upset with him. He’s running through everything he’s said or done in the past week that could have upset you. His chest feels tight and he can’t suck in a full breath.

Your arms are crossed over your chest as you finally blurt out this so called important question.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Eddie visibly deflates, crouching over with a hand on his knee and the other slapped to his chest.

“You can’t do that to me, sunshine. Feel like i’m having a heart attack right now- fuck.” His heart is racing like a horse in the Kentucky derby and you’re not helping. Looking down at his crouched figure and letting those soft giggles escape your pretty mouth. You’ll be the death of him, he swears it.

“Sorry, Eds. I didn’t mean to make you freak. But to be fair, this is a very important question.” He returns to his full height, now he’s the one looking down at you. He doesn’t look too thrilled to be talking about this. And truly, he’s not. But he’s glad you came to see him anyway. Regardless of the motive.

“Maybe it’s important to you but it isn’t really all that special to me. It’s all kinda stupid,” he replies, waving his hand as if brushing away the question flippantly. One look at your face and he regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He didn’t mean to come across so callous. The dejected look that wipes off the small smile you were holding sends a pang to Eddie’s chest. He knows Christmas is something you care about and he loves that about you. And now he’s gone and basically called you stupid for it.

Your heart sinks in your chest. Showing up like this was clearly a mistake. You didn’t expect him to be jumping up and down at the idea of celebrating Christmas with you. But you also weren’t expecting complete rejection.

You’re fumbling through apologies and making up excuses to leave. Maybe coming here and bothering him at work over something you know he has no interest in wasn’t a good idea. A phone call would’ve been fine. Or just leaving him alone all together. You’re regretting ever coming in the first place.

As you start to step back after a stuttered goodbye, Eddie reaches out for your wrist. He doesn’t want you to go.

“Wait, please stay. I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh. It’s not stupid, poor choice of words. It’s just I’ve never seen the point in the whole thing. But I love that you love it.” The smile returns to your face. Eddie wants to press his finger into the crease that forms on the side of your mouth. “I just meant that you don’t need to worry about me.”

You take his apology in stride. Something about the way he looks at you and the way he says he loves that you love Christmas makes you want to forget he even hurt your feelings in the first place.

“Well too late because I’m always gonna worry about you, teddy.” His heart soars in his chest hearing that you care enough about him to worry. Eddie tries to brush off the initial question, repeating the same excuses he’s used on Wayne in the past.

“Sweetheart, really. There’s nothing I even want!” But you’re persistent. There just has to be something he’s been after. Eddie never buys himself new things. He’s a boy who deserves the world but would give it away in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

“Not a single thing? I find that very unconvincing, Eddie.” He pretends to think on it. Finger to the chin, eyes cast to the sky. You can almost see the little lightbulb over his head when he finally thinks of something.

“How about this? Hows about you come over on Christmas and grace me with your presence? I’ll take that as my gift.” Eddie is grinning from ear to ear. A compromise that he feels is sufficient enough. Easily a gift just to be around you but a gift that costs nothing. He seems pretty proud of his answer.

“But I always come over! And you know I’ll spend time with you whenever you ask so that doesn’t count as a gift. Just my presence isn’t special enough!” You’re arguing with him like a toddler. You even resemble one considering the pout on your lips. Eddie mimics your pout and bends over to be eye level with you.

“I wholeheartedly disagree with you on that one. You are more than special enough.” The pout falls off your face and your eyes widen. The two of you share a look of knowing. Both wanting the same thing but both being too scared to admit it. Eddie’s gaze flicks down to your lips for the briefest of moments. You wish he would just kiss you and get it over with.

Instead he holds eye contact with you, searching for something he knows is there. Secretly hoping you will make the first move, but he knows you’re shyness would never allow for such boldness.

“Hey! Munson! You gonna finish this lemon or what?” The same coworker who insists on calling you ‘Eddie’s girl’ interrupts your moment. Eddie lets out a loud laugh before straightening his back.

“I’ve worked on that car about 5 times in the last month. Pete just won’t give it up.” You have no idea who Pete is but nod and chuckle as if you do. “I’ll see you tonight then?” Eddie’s got a gig with Corroded Coffin tonight. You haven’t missed a single show as long as you’ve known each other yet he still seeks the reassurance that you will be there. It’s sweet.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, teddy.” You flash a bright smile at him before waving your goodbyes but not before yelling a, “you’re getting something for christmas whether you like it or not.” Leaving Eddie blushing red for the remainder of his shift.

The topic of gifts has been put on the back burner, Thanksgiving now the forefront of everyone’s minds. It’s just Eddie and Wayne this year, it always is. Thanksgiving being much more financially achievable for the two man family.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to invite you. Not that he wasn’t planning on doing so, but the constant interrogation from Wayne about what your plans were was driving Eddie up the wall.

When he asks you, he can see the look of disappointment on your face. Pouring out apologies and explaining how you're visiting your grandparents out of state.

He should’ve known better. You’ve got a family to do those things with. The normal things that Eddie has never known.

You want to tell your parents ‘fuck the trip’ and stay with Eddie, but your grandparents are old. It’s grim but the fact is, they probably won’t have much time left. And it’s not like they can travel to you. But seeing Eddie’s face when you have to turn him down makes you want to cry.

In the quiet moments of the night, snuggled up in Eddie’s bed while he’s on the floor, making notes in the margin of his well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings, you remember you’re going away. In the light of the day, surrounded by Eddie’s laughs and his lewd jokes and his constant fidgeting, you were able to forget. Eddie was always good at distracting you from any negative feelings that may plague you.

You watch his brows furrow and his tongue poke over his upper lip as he underlines a quote he finds significant. He’s rubbing his rings against one another emitting a soft metallic clicking. You can see his lips barely moving as he mouths the words to himself. A subconscious habit, you figure.

You watch the way his chest rises and falls. How his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. The way his face shows every emotion he feels as he reads. The slight stubble that’s grown since he shaved this morning. The way he is totally lost in his book yet completely in tune with you, reaching back every so often to touch you. To rub your leg as a reminder to you that he hasn’t forgotten you’re there. His subtle way of thanking you for being here with him.

All these little things are becoming big things. You look away from him, staring up at his ceiling instead. Looking at him just exist close to you is enough to have you overwhelmed with emotion. You’re not coping well with the fact that you won’t feel his hand on your calf or hear his laugh for a whole week.

You realize how silly it is to be so upset. It’s not like you’re going away forever, but this will be the longest either of you have gone without seeing each other. You’re not sure you remember how to be without Eddie Munson.

“I wish I could shrink you down so I could carry you with me everywhere, teddy.” The sound of pages being slammed shut and a pen being dropped to the floor brings your gaze back to him. He laughs a little before crawling off the floor and into the spot next to you. He’s got the softest smile you’ve ever seen on his face as he lays mere inches away from you.

“And why’s that? Think that would get annoying after a while.” He’s teasing you but you’re dead serious. You want him around always.

“Because I don’t like to be without you. I never want to be without you, Eddie.” The smile drops from his face as tears fall from your eyes. His heart is racing and he can’t pinpoint why. He’s thrilled at the notion that you want him around all the time but he’s upset that you’re upset. But then again, you’re so pretty when you cry. But you’re also crying over him. And why are you crying over him? Is there something else going on? He’s a mess of emotions right now.

“Sweetheart.. it’s only a week. I’ll still be here when you get back.” He pulls you into his chest and lets you cry there for a moment. Once you’re reduced to occasional sniffles and swollen eyes, you pull your face out of his chest. The pair of you stare at each other for a moment before you’re bursting into laughter. Eddie is so lost but you’re laughing so that must be a good sign.

“That was so stupid, holy shit. I can’t believe I just cried like a baby over that. I’m sorry,” you’re a giggling machine and Eddie can’t help but laugh along until the quiet finally returns. It lingers for a long time, so long Eddie thinks you might have fallen asleep.

“I meant what I said. I do wish I could carry you around with me, teddy.” He feels your warm breath through the fabric of his shirt, words whispered directly to his heart. Eddie sucks in a breath. Is this it? Is this when you finally ask him the question you’re both itching to hear? Or say the three words he’s dying to tell you too?

“If I had a magic lamp, that’s what I would wish for.”

so maybe not tonight.

But as you drift away, Eddie stays up thinking about anything and everything. Most of the thoughts revolve around you though. How you want him around, the way you’re wearing his favorite sweater, why you started calling him teddy, how he wishes you could carry him around too.

And then he gets an idea.

Maybe you could carry him around, metaphorically speaking.

Now, Eddie had zero plans to get anyone anything for Christmas. He never had and he wasn’t planning to change that now. But the perfect opportunity and the perfect person have presented themselves to him on a silver platter.

He starts to do the math in his head. Thanksgiving is in 4 days. Making Christmas in 31 days, so he really has 30 days to get the gift ready. You’ll be gone for a week starting on the 25th, which gives him 11 days to save up. If he picks up extra shifts at the shop and does a couple deals, he can save up some extra cash to make sure it’s perfect. He can pick up the supplies while you’re gone too.

The tricky part is going to be hiding it all from you. You two are practically attached at the hip and Eddie knows the second you’re back in town, you’ll want to be near him. And he’ll be dying to be around you too. He also knows that you’re smart and there’s no doubt you’ll catch on.

You spend the remainder of the four days in Hawkins working around Eddie’s work schedule. You’re a little ticked off that he took up so many shifts when he knows you’re about to be gone for a week, but maybe he really needs the money. And you can’t stay mad at him when he makes such an effort to see you even after he’s worked himself to the bone.

His schedule also gives you the perfect opportunity to get one of his Christmas gifts together. Making a trip to a print shop out in Marion, a couple cities over from Hawkins. It being the only place you could track down that would print designs onto guitar picks. Who would’ve thought it would be such a to-do?

When you handed the guy Eddie’s hand drawn logo for Corroded Coffin, he seemed to recognize the name. You got to talking to the guy and it turns out he’s made a couple trips out to The Hideout to see Corroded Coffin. He swears they’re gonna be the next big thing. You tell him all about Eddie and how this is a Christmas gift for him. The employee, Zach, says he can give you the sample today but the rest will have to be shipped.

“I’ll make sure they get there well before Christmas. Just make sure you remember me when your boyfriend gets famous.” He chuckles and hands you the pick as you flounder for words. You don’t tell him Eddie’s not your boyfriend, letting yourself live in the fantasy that he is for this moment.

Eddie’s second gift comes from a second hand store you used to visit when you were a kid when you’d stay with your grandparents in Wisconsin.

Eddie had commented multiple times on the sun pendant you wore around your neck. Even using the name ‘sunshine’ for you once in a while. Since then, you’ve been on a hunt for some kind of jewelry with a moon. But finding something like that in Eddie’s style is damn near impossible. Your last ditch effort being scouring every thrift store within a 20 mile radius of your grandparents house.

You’re ready to give up and just stick to the guitar picks and maybe a t-shirt. It’s not like he cares all that much about gifts anyway.

Until you visit that old store run by Marty, who used to ‘forget’ to charge you for an item or two. He’s still managing the place, even now that you’re all grown up. He’s beyond happy to see you, asking all about your life now. Who you’re friends are, where you’re working, if you’ve got a special someone.

During this chat, you obviously have to brag on Eddie. You have a bad habit of working him into every conversation.

Walking up and down the aisles with Marty, he tells you all about the repairs he’s had to make to the shop over the years. The wood flooring wearing down, shelves rusting, roof leaking. But he loves it all the same.

“I’ll keep this place standing with duct tape and a dream if i have to.” You snort, knowing he means that one hundred percent. He’s showing you some renovations in the back he was able to afford back in March, when you just glance at the small jewelry case. It doesn’t hold much, mostly old wedding rings or a pair of clearly vintage earrings.

You don’t really give it a second thought until Marty is pulling you over to show you a necklace he recently acquired. He says it’s from some lady who passed away who was apparently an heir to some fortune. It’s a beautiful piece but you can’t bring yourself to care when what you’ve been searching for is staring you in the face. A beautiful silver ring with a crescent moon, oversized and chunky. Very clearly worn by a previous owner with scratches and scuffs. So clearly Eddie.

“She had this grandfather who owned-“

“Marty!” You damn near startle the poor man to death with your shout. “How much for the ring?”

You’ve got eyes bigger than saucers, practically bouncing on your feet waiting for his answer. He doesn’t quite know what you’re so excited about. It’s nothing special, no diamond or gold.

“Well that depends. who’s it for?” Marty knows it can’t be for you, considering it’s clearly made for someone with much thicker fingers. And based on how excited you got, it must be for someone special. If Marty is anything, he is one nosey old man.

“It’s for my friend I was telling you about. Eddie. I’ve been looking everywhere for something like that!” Marty considers you for a moment. He takes a second to replay the last hour you’ve spent in the store, bringing up this ‘Eddie’ no less than a million times. He’s lived a long time, seen a lot of things.

“Yes, this boy who you ramble on about but is just a friend. That one?” you roll your eyes at his insinuation.

“Yes, Marty, that one.” You let out a huff at Marty’s infuriating grin. The one where he looks like he’s got you all figured out.

“In the spirit of love, you can have it free of charge.” The shit eating grin he gives you is bigger than the state of Texas.

“Jesus… You’re lucky I like you, old man.” He bags up the ring and slides it across the counter. He gives you a stern look before letting you take it from him.

“You tell that boy he better be good to you or Marty here will have to pay him a visit. Can’t be having my best girl with some rascal.” You shake your head fondly at the man, bid him goodbye as he tells you to visit more often. You promise him you will and he waves at you until you can’t see him in the rear view anymore.

Back in Hawkins, Eddie’s room is a mess of fabric and sewing needles. This tiny jacket he’s sewing is giving him hell. He’s pricked himself approximately ten times in the last half hour. He’s really putting his artistic skills to the test. Utilizing every ounce of knowledge he’s picked up from painting D&D figures and sewing patches onto his battle vest. This whole gift idea is turning out to be a lot more time consuming than he anticipated.

He spent a solid five hours in every toy store in the near vicinity, even traveling as far as Indianapolis. He spent every last cent he owned on fabric and paint and gas to acquire said items. It will all be worth it though to see the look on your face when he gives it to you.

When you knock on his door for the first time in a week while he’s in the middle of painting a tiny patch of denim, he’s scrambling to hide the evidence. Determined to not spoil the surprise. He flings open the trailer door to see you standing there in sweatpants and his sweater, which he could’ve sworn he lost about a week ago.

“You know, it’s not very kind to steal, sunshine.” Eddie thinks his eardrums have suffered some serious damage after the way you squeal his name. Practically tackling him back into the living room with arms tight around his neck. His hands seek you out just as quickly, one gripping the softness of your waist and the other resting gently on the back of your head. He can’t suppress the grin that spreads over his face, eyes squinting from how hard his cheeks push up.

“Missed you so much, teddy.” The words vibrate in his neck. He can feel you smiling against his skin. When you pull away, it takes every muscle in his body to not keep you tucked against him until there’s no way to know where he ends and you begin.

“I missed you even more.” You’re still grinning up at him and he has yet to let go of the grip he has on your waist, tethering you to him for as long as you’ll let him. He’s missed being able to touch you, see you, talk to you. Before you left, he had tried to argue that he should get to call you at least once but you weren’t having it. The rates for out of state phone calls were beyond either of your budgets.

Eddie would’ve paid anything, done anything, just to hear you speak his name.

Once you’ve finally settled into the couch, legs thrown over Eddie as he strokes up and down your calf, he finally asks you about the trip.

You tell him all about your grandparents and how things have changed since your last visit. The new dog they rescued and the chickens that wander in the house through the doggy door.

Eddie is trying his best to listen. He really is. But it’s hard to pay attention to the words coming out of your mouth when he’s too busy admiring you. The miniscule movements of the muscles in your face as you shift through a range of emotions. You’re practically vibrating with energy as you retell your every movement while you were away.

He’s snapped out of his trance at your next words.

“And… I’ve got your Christmas gifts, Mr. Munson.” Eddie opens his mouth to respond before he takes a second to replay a specific word in that sentence.

“Hold on. Gifts, plural? As in multiple?” You’re grinning like the cat that ate the canary. You watch as Eddie tosses his head back onto the couch and runs his hands down his face. He rubs his eyes out of frustration and gives you the meanest glare he can muster.

Which isn’t very mean for a guy who’s nickname is teddy.

“If looks could kill.” Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. You know what he’s probably thinking. That he doesn’t deserve anything. That he’s not worth the effort or the money.

And you’re right. Eddie’s mind is full of self doubts. He doesn’t think he deserves the gifts but more importantly, he doesn’t deserve you. Someone who cares enough to want him to have a good Christmas, despite his constant criticism of the holiday.

He wants to insist you take them back and push you as far away as he possibly can. But there’s a part of him that wants to be spoiled, just this once. The part that wants to keep you all to himself and let you shower him in love.

He’s looking at you with those big, sad brown eyes and you just can’t stand it anymore.

“It’s just two things, teddy. Three if you count my promise to spend the day with you.” He huffs in your direction and you decide it’s enough of a response, shifting the topic back to your travels.

“Marty told me to tell you that if you hurt his best girls feelings, he’s gonna have to pay you a visit. So you better play nice, Munson.”

“His best girl? I might have to pay him a visit first.”

Eddie spends the remaining weeks in secrecy. He’s barely let you step foot in his trailer lately. He’s starting to run out of excuses until it’s finally Christmas day. He spent all Christmas Eve finishing up his project, adding final touches and stitches.

You’ve finished opening presents with your family and have now set up post at the telephone to wait for Eddie’s call. You’ve got his gifts wrapped in metallic black paper you were able to dig out of the bottom of a bin at the local craft store. The clerk gave you a weird look when you put it on the counter, shocked they even carried such an item. But Eddie didn’t seem like the snowflakes and Santa wrapping paper kinda guy.

You’re all kinds of nervous. It’s silly to even think such a thing but what if he hates them? You don’t want him to pretend he loves them if he doesn’t actually love them. But you’ll also be heartbroken if he seems unimpressed. And he’s been acting all weird lately so that’s not helping.

You’re chewing on your fingernails when the shrill ring of the phone startles you.

“Hello?”

“Well hello there, do tell. Were you on the nice list this year?” You can hear the smile on Eddie’s face through the speaker.

“I don’t know, I don’t think Santa checked his list twice this year. There’s no way I ended up on the nice list.” You can hear a chuckle on the other end.

“Personally, I’m dying to find out if I’m on your naughty or nice list. Why don’t you come on over and break the news in person?” You don’t have to see him to know he’s got his hand to his chest, feigning a shot through the heart. You tell him you’re on your way and rush out to your car.

Hawkins winter is anything but forgiving as you plead with the heater to kick on in your old Volkswagen. You don’t have the patience to wait for it to cooperate as you speed over to the Forest Hills trailer park. As you pull up to the Munson’s residence, Eddie is sat on the couch on the porch smoking a cigarette. He’s not even wearing a coat, just his everyday attire.

“Teddy! You’re gonna freeze to death out here!��� You’re chastising him as you run up the steps, careful to keep a grip on your gifts.

“So dramatic, sunshine.” He finishes off his cigarette and stomps out the butt with his sneaker. He blows the smoke away from your face as he slings an arm over your shoulders. You let him lead you into the warmth of the trailer. You know Uncle Wayne more than likely cranked it up for you, wanting you to be comfortable even if it means a higher electric bill this month. If he was here, you’d chastise him too.

Eddie helps you take off your winter coat before you toe off your boots, leaving you in your Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer socks. As you settle onto the couch in your designated position, legs thrown over Eddie’s thighs, he makes a comment on said socks.

“Killer socks, bub.” You roll your eyes and shove your gift boxes at him.

“Shut up and open your presents, dingus.” Eddie jabs that you’ve been spending too much time with Robin as he opens the first gift.

Eddie seems to hesitate as he sees the black velvet box, immediately recognizing it as something that carries jewelry. And not just the cheap jewelry he gets from the halloween store once a year. The real shit. He sucks in a deep breath before flipping the top of the box to reveal a thick silver ring.

“Is that a-“

“A moon? Yeah, ya know cause you always call me sunshine. I figured we could match, it’s okay if you don’t want to though.” You interrupt his question with your rambling. He can tell you’re nervous but he can’t do much to settle your nerves, too busy staring at it like if he blinks it will disappear. His chest feels tight and his heart swollen. He can’t stop his eyes from watering.

He’s pondering the unintentional meaning behind him being the moon and you being the sun. Besides the obvious, he can’t help but find a parallel between the two of you and the way that the moon only shines at night because of the sun. When the two align, it’s magic.

You are the sun to his moon.

Eddie has never experienced love like this. Sure, Uncle Wayne and his friends all love him. But this is different. You’re different. This gesture which seems so small in the grand scheme of things, feels monumental to Eddie. To be loved by you is life altering.

“I can’t… I can’t accept this. It’s too much, sunshine.”

“I think it’s just enough.” Your words are reassuring but not overly so. You know if you say what you want to say, which is the fact that it’s not nearly enough, Eddie would shrink away. Just enough to remind him that you think he’s worth it. That he’s deserving.

Eddie looks up at you then. Your eyes are wide as you try to decipher what’s happening in that head of his. You’re waiting for a reaction that isn’t humble denial as he slides the ring onto his marriage finger. You try not to read too into that.

Eddie holds his hand out in front of his face, examining every groove and scuff mark. It’s imperfect but a perfect fit for him. He’ll cherish it forever.

“Thank you. Seriously. It’s beautiful.” Eddie reaches for your hand, squeezing it in his gently. He’s looking so deeply into your eyes you’re afraid he’ll be able to see your thoughts. Clearing your throat, you pull your hand from his grasp to pick up the second gift.

“You still have one more to open. And might I say, I’m quite proud of this one.” Eddie’s smile is dazzling. Finally allowing himself to become giddy. To allow his inner child to make an appearance.

He rips open the paper like it’s life or death. This time it’s just a small cardboard box. He sighs quietly in relief as his hope that whatever is inside isn’t an expensive item grows.

He tears the cardboard box completely apart, guitar picks spilling all over the floor and into his lap. You heave a sigh of Eddie’s name but can’t help the smile from growing as he rushes to the floor to pick them all up. His movement scattering the pile on his lap to the floor as he gets on all fours in front of you. He’s muttering apologies and looking up at you with those stupid brown puppy dog eyes.

Once he’s scooped them into a pile, he makes a comment about having needed more picks considering all of his are lost to the filthy, sticky floors of The Hideout. He hasn’t even looked at them up close.

“Eddie, you have to actually look at them.” He looks confused before picking one from his neat little pile on the floor. He squints his eyes as he registers what has been printed onto the little black pieces of plastic.

“Holy shit! Is that my design?” He’s grinning from ear to ear. His very own guitar picks for his very own band. He didn’t even know you could do that! He’s made his own Corroded Coffin t-shirts before but those were strictly homemade, and very obviously so.

But these. These are professional. The kind of stuff a real band has.

“I figured when Corroded Coffin gets famous, you can toss these into the crowd. Like Kirk Hammett or something.”

When. You said when, not if. Eddie feels like he could burst. You have so much faith in him that his success is a sure thing.

Eddie practically body slams you back into the couch, pressing all of his weight into you. The epitome of a golden retriever who thinks he’s a lap dog. Rambling off a thousand thank you’s into your shirt his head is buried in. You stroke your hands up and down his back, soothing his energy back to it’s normal state.

Before you can say anything, he’s yanking his body away and darting down the hall to his bedroom. You hear a crash and a curse before Eddie emerges back into the living room, gift bag in hand.

He clocks the smirk before it even forms, cutting you off before you can make some slick comment.

“Just because I’m not fond of Christmas doesn’t mean I can’t indulge. So this is for you.” He holds the very worn Christmas bag out to you with both hands. It’s got Eddie written all over it. From the chicken scratch of your name to the mismatched tissue paper to the mustache and devil horns combo he drew over the painted Santa Clause.

You hold the bag in your lap, not daring to look at it let alone open it. You know Eddie has never given a Christmas gift to anyone. Ever. But here he is, giving you one. The affection you feel in your chest is liable to kill you. Paired with the bashful look on his face and his fidgeting hands, you’re not sure you’ll make it to the new year.

“You didn’t have to…” You start to say but Eddie will have none of it.

“I know I didn’t. But I want to. So open it already, you’re giving me a heart attack over here.” There’s no hiding the nervous waver in his voice. You want to tell him not to be nervous. Eddie could gift you a pile of dirt from the front yard and you’d love it. Just because it came from him.

You slide the tissue paper out of the bag so carefully that Eddie wants to jump in and rip it out himself. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t what lies in the bottom of the bag.

You stare at the teddy bear for a moment, afraid to touch it. Swallowing a breath, you pull the bear from the bag and nearly pass out onto the floor.

The teddy bear is the exact shade of Eddie’s brown hair, the fur even holding a slight curl to match. He’s wearing a tiny version of Eddie’s signature Hellfire Club t-shirt and tiny black jeans that Eddie clearly ripped himself. He even fastened a chain to the pocket that clinks when it moves. Even more impressive is the denim vest Eddie had clearly sewn himself, on top of a leather jacket that was probably made for a baby doll.

Flipping the teddy over, your eyes feel swollen with tears as you see that Eddie hand painted an exact replica of his Dio patch onto the vest. You examine every inch of this bear, marveling in every detail Eddie put into making it look just like him. Even cutting the leather sleeves to add those little chains he crafted to fix the zipper of his life sized jacket.

What really sends you into a state of shock, is the messy stitching on the foot. In red thread, it reads ‘your teddy’.

Eddie is internally panicking at your frozen figure sat on the couch. It’s too quiet. So he fills it with his shaking voice.

“I know it’s silly but I just thought it would be kinda cool to make a mini me for you. Cause you said you wanted to carry me around with you and, like, now you totally can. Or not, if it’s too childish. It’s not the prettiest-“

“I love you.”

Eddie freezes. You’re still as a statue. You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. Your mind just screaming ‘iloveyouiloveyou’ on a loop until it breached your lips. Finally taking your gaze away from the bear to look up at Eddie.

He looks shell shocked. His face is void of color and his adams apple bobs as he swallows harshly. He’s not sure how to respond to the suddenness of your confession. His mind is begging him to say something. To tell you he loves you too. To kiss you. But for the first time in Eddie Munson’s life, he’s lost for words.

“I-I’m in love with you, Eddie. Have been for a while now but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” you set the bear gently on the couch next to you as you rise to your feet, standing almost toe to toe with the boy. “You don’t have to say it back. I’ll always be your friend and I don’t want you to feel obligated-“

Eddie slams his mouth into yours. It’s not pretty or gentle like the movies. It’s overeager, desperate and messy but it’s everything you both need. Your hands seek out his face as you hold him to you, moving your mouth against his. His nose is smashed so hard against your cheek he can’t breathe, yet he’s still pushing into your mouth harder.

His hands are gripping the fat of your hips so hard there’s sure to be Eddie shaped bruises tomorrow. God, you hope there are. You want to be marked with him. Leave no room for any doubt that you belong to one another. Two souls merged into one. No longer ‘you’ and ‘I’ but ‘we’ and ‘us’.

Eddie lets you pull your mouth away from his, chasing your lips in a desperate attempt to lure you back in. You hum against him as you peck one last kiss onto those swollen pink lips of his.

He’s close enough that he’s breathing your air. He can feel the huffs of your warm breath fanning over his face. Hair moving gently against the pressure of it. He soaks in it for a moment. Letting his eyes stay closed as he just feels.

Feels the warmth of your palm on his cheek, contrasting the chill of your cold fingertips against his temple. The give of your skin beneath his grip on your hips. The softness of your tummy and chest as it smushes against his. Your forehead mussing up his bangs.

He shifts his face just far enough so he can look at you but close enough that he can still feel you breathing. The way you look at him could have him melting into a puddle on the floor. So pretty, he thinks.

He moves one hand from your hip to rest on the side of your neck, brushing his thumb over your jaw. Eddie tilts his head down so he’s at your level. An equal.

“I love you.” Eddie drops the ‘too’. It feels flippant. Like he’s only saying it because you said it. Not because he truly feels it.

He can see you visibly relax, reassuring you that he does in fact, feel the same way. He chuckles a bit as the tension starts to dissipate. A lighter, giddier feeling in the air.

“Not sure how you didn’t notice. I mean, the only reason I even went to the record store was to stalk you.” You fake a gasp as if he had scandalized you, slapping the back of your hand against his chest gently.

“You’re telling me you had ulterior motives this whole time, Eddie Munson?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” You roll your eyes before leaning back in for another kiss. This one lasting longer than the short peck you gave him earlier. Just lips pressed to lips, nothing more but nothing less. You realize you never got to tell him how much you love his gift. But frankly, Eddie’s forgotten all about it.

“If it wasn’t obvious, I love my teddy. Both the mini and the life size version.” Eddie blushes, flustered at your shameless flirting mixed with a genuine appreciation for the gift he worked so hard on.

You pull Eddie back to the couch. This time not just settling your legs in his lap, but your whole body. Your knees pressed into the couch on either side of his hips. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that your ass is pressed into his thighs and if he pulled you an inch closer, he’d feel the warmth between your thighs.

He doesn’t know you’re thinking the same thing, knowing that a shift in the right direction would have his bulge pressed right into your center. But you’re also thinking about how pretty he looks and how natural it feels to be in his lap. To have his hands settled on your hips.

You file those thoughts away for later, picking up the teddy bear you abandoned earlier. You sit him in between the two of you, stroking one of his fuzzy round ears.

There’s a moment of quiet before you launch into a full college level dissertation about that damn bear. Listing every single detail you noticed and why you love it so much. Asking Eddie how he found the perfect shade bear and where he got the clothes and the paint and the tiny chains and, and, and…

Eddie wants to kiss you silly.

So he does. It starts out sudden, using the kiss as a method to shut you up before it turns soft. Pure adoration spilling from his mouth into yours and from yours to his. Tongues sliding against each other and soft breaths against cheeks. Eddie fumbles as he attempts to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, losing the suction too early, making an obnoxiously loud popping sound.

He attempts to keep your lips pressed together but your giggling is making it very hard for him. He can’t find it in him to be frustrated considering how sweet your giggles taste as they fall into his mouth.

You can barely even call it a kiss as this point. Both too busy laughing to focus on the task at hand. Eddie let’s out the tiniest snort that vibrates against your cheek and it triggers a laugh so deep in your belly that it almost feels like a cramp. Your head is tossed back, letting yourself laugh unapologetically.

It might be ugly and unattractive but Eddie has a way of making you feel comfortable like that. No fear of judgement or harsh comments.

On the contrary, Eddie thinks this is when you look most attractive. Neck straining from the weight of your head, smile so big it hurts, tears in the corners of your eyes. It’s so utterly you.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you pick your head back up to look at Eddie. Still wearing a bright smile, just softer than before.

“Merry Christmas, teddy.” You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting it linger for longer than you’d care to admit. You settle your face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling your nose into his soft skin. You feel his hum tickle the tip of your nose. He rubs soothing circles into your back, closing his eyes in utter bliss.

It stays like that for a little while. Both in a state of complete relaxation before Eddie finally speaks.

“I think I might like christmas.”

thank you so much for reading!! likes are always appreciated! reblogs get smooches under the mistletoe!!!

i live for soft boy teddy. and the thought of him holding up his hair to hundreds of teddy bears to find the right shade… i’m proposing.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #my writing #christmas fic #plus sized reader coded #all of my works are implied plus size reader #but i try to make my writing as inclusive as possible

[girlbossyndrome]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝒹𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈.

This post is for the fellow overthinkers, the people who either feel like the world is too small for them, or that on the contrary it's too big, too wide, too scary. But truth is, we are ALL fellow overthinkers, we've all been haunted by the sentiment of not belonging anywhere. At least once, I think. And sometimes that sentiment never goes away.

I always thought that Life is a question of perspective for some. Your neighbor might see Life as something grand to always be celebrated, enjoy every passing moment, others like to build a whole plan around it, they need to do this and this and this before a certain age. I always thought that it's interesting how each person has a different vision of life.

To be honest, societal rules are chaining us and imprisoning us, but that's also because of capitalism. Because if you think about it for a second, life sounds more like a trap right now than ever, we are constantly growing but in the end we're not grown up enough, it'll never be enough, how many diplomas do you need to collect? How much training do you need? How much time do you need to work to be entitled to some rest in the end, and how come we're never truly resting? Why is it that when we turn 50 (mind you in some countries you need to be at least 65) and we are retired we can finally enjoy life. With the current situation, life expectancy is at its lowest, so NO excuse me that I find it slightly crazy that I only get 5 years of rest, what the fuck? *currently stressing out just writing this article*

I wish we could re define societal rules, it’s okay to laze around all day, it’s okay not to have 3 diplomas. But i find myself in a situation where I constantly worry about my future. Salary is no longer enough, the world is exploding with inflation and taxes, and that’s way out of my league, I can’t live a life where I’m always suffering, I need to live not survive, and so do you.

This summer, take a trip somewhere, with friends or all on your own, liberate yourself from your routine. Rebel yourself up, and as my good friend Ofred said: “nolite te bastardes carborundurum”

#girlblogger #female hysteria #girlblogging #coquette #girlblog #lana del rey #girl interrupted syndrome #lana del rey aesthetic #female rage #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #just girlboss things #they hate to see a girlboss winning

[steviesbicrisis]

Steddie with Nurse!steve

I can’t get out of my head the idea of Steve becoming a nurse.

Most likely he doesn’t even see college as an option, so when someone (Robin) suggests becoming a nurse, he laughs it off with “I need college to do that” and “that’s a woman’s job”.

After being kindly smacked for saying that (Robin again), he starts to think about it more seriously.

He does it when he babysits his favorite fifteen year olds, when he helps Lucas out after a minor basketball injury, but especially whenever he’s taking care of Eddie’s battlefield wounds.

He feels a sense of pride and accomplishment every time he changes his bandages, helps him out with simple tasks or relieves him from the pain, but he also grows frustrated when Eddie has symptoms he has not the knowledge to recognize and has to take him to the doctors for check ups.

«Why not a doctor?» He asks Robin one day, completely out of the blue.

«You hate doctors» she replies, after one second of astonishment.

«Do I?»

«Yes??? Don’t you remember how pissed you were when we brought Eddie to the hospital and you kept cursing at them?»

«They were all assholes! None of them cared about him, even if he was half dead! They barely spoke to any of us, and he stayed for like, a month??»

«They were fine, they helped him right?»

«It wouldn’t kill them to be a little kinder…”»

«… like a nurse?»

Steve flips her off and she laughs.

Contrarily to any prediction, he tells Eddie first.

He doesn’t want to give Robin any chance to say “I told you so” before being 100% sure about his choice. He and Eddie got insanely closer since Steve decided to take care of him until he got back in shape, and after that their routine was so entangled that felt more natural to keep it up.

Steve knows they’re weirdly attached to one another, he drives Eddie everywhere, they spend the night at each other’s places, they sleep in the same bed, they talk about the smallest things to their deepest thoughts and fears. Every time his minds wonders about their dynamic, Steve brushes it off as “Platonic with a capital P” like what he has with Robin, but he’s lying to himself.

He doesn’t look at Robin the way he does with Eddie, he doesn’t think about holding hands with her and well, kissing her. But he knows he can’t do any of that, so he buries these thoughts and hides them under the “platonic with a capital P” like he did with Robin months ago.

They will go away, he hopes.

«I’m thinking about becoming a nurse» he says, casually one day. They’re hanging out in Eddie’s trailer, lazily sprawled on the couch.

Eddie sits up, rigid, and looks at him like he has grown a second head.

«Eddie?»

«I fucking hate you» Eddie bursts «do you enjoy making me suffer?»

Steve is absolutely shocked by the reaction «w-what?»

«taking care of me daily like I had a hot personal nurse wasn’t enough?? You want to do the real thing? I bet it’s because of some selfless reasons like “I wanna help others” “think about the kids” and all of that bullshit» he gets up, pacing around the small space as he speaks «it was hard enough to make sure you wouldn’t notice how it made me feel- fuck, you’re going to wear the uniform to? Fucking hell-»

Steve stands up as Eddie is pouring out every single thought he had bottled up, pretty much like Steve Did, probably not realizing fully what he is doing.

Steve steps closer while Eddie is too busy with his stream of consciousness to notice «-just a poor man Stevie, what can I do when you take off my shirt and touch me everywhere? I even dream about it! And I don’t know why I’m telling you this and why are you so close I told you I-» his sentence dies as Steve presses their lips together.

The kiss effectively shuts him up, not that Steve wasn’t enjoying the heated confession, but knowing they feel the same about each other, he doesn’t want to waist one second more.

Bonus:

«are you ready?»

«no I’m not» Eddie groans, sitting on the bed «just come out already»

Steve steps into their bedroom, wearing his nurse uniform for the first time.

«Fuck!» Eddie groans, dramatically throwing himself on the bed. He brings a hand over his heart «help! I’m having a stroke, I need a hot nurse to do CPR on me!»

Steve laughs «there’s so many wrong things with everything you said I don’t know where to begin» but he leans down to kiss him nonetheless.

#steddie #steve and robin #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve and eddie #random headcanon #stranger things #sbc writes #ficlets

[acti-veg]

i genuinely feel like it’s impossible to be an ethical person without sacrificing pretty much everything which gives me any joy

i went vegan, but now i just keep seeing how i fall short in so many other ways. it seems like everything i previously enjoyed has to be boycotted. everything is problematic in some way.

I don't feel like 'ethical' is a thing anyone actually just achieves and becomes 'an ethical person' one day by being nice enough and boycotting enough companies; it's something we have to strive for. I agree with Aristotle that virtue is a skill, it's not something you just are, it's something you have to constantly practice and that won't always be easy. That is made all the more difficult by capitalism.

Whatever you want to buy that will give you joy that you know is harmful, consider whether there is a more ethical version. Can you buy it second hand? Is there a more ethical company selling the same thing? Can you replace it with something else? You can't deny yourself every pleasure, but if something that brings you joy is inherently harmful you can choose to examine whether or not you actually need it to feel happy, and if you really do, how you can mitigate at least some of that harm. It's about choosing your battles.

I can't not eat any vegetables or grains without a severe health impact for example, and I can't afford to buy everything locally and I can't grow it all myself, so I buy it from the supermarket, knowing that much of it will have been farmed in environmentally destructive ways using unfair labour practices. People who aren't even trying will bring that up as a reason why veganism isn't ethical, but it's a lot better than consuming that unethical produce alongside animal products, which require even more of that exact produce.

I can't be completely cruelty free but I can relatively easily boycott animal products, and I can pay for the extra 15% on coffee, chocolate and bananas to buy Fair Trade. There is just about no smartphone or computer that does what I need it to do that is also ethical, but I can buy them refurbished instead of new. I can boycott particularly harmful companies, while knowing that what I replace their products with won't be ethically perfect either - just better. None of these are hugely commendable acts or difficult sacrifices, but it all helps.

Being vegan does not make you a good person, it's just one stance on one particular issue, which is the exploitation of animals. I oppose exploiting animals and refusing to purchase products which engage in that exploitation is accessible to me, and so I do it. It's that simple. Plenty of my other purchases aren't ethical and neither will yours be, because a lifestyle free from any and all harm is not possible under capitalism.

So long as you're doing your best that's really all anyone can expect. We're going to pass through this world just once, so we should enjoy it while trying to leave our small corner of it a little better off than it was before we got there. Being kind to one another and living a good life may not always be easy, but its also not some great burden that robs you of any joy. It is the entire point of living.

#ask #vegan #ethics #philosophy #ethical consumerism

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Just thinking about it, how do you think the Munsons do fathers day?

The Munsons don’t make a big deal out of Father’s Day… until they do.

Uncle Wayne legally took Eddie in when Eddie was just eight years old (signing the papers was a mere formality at that point, Uncle Wayne had always been there for Eddie as much as he could, no matter the personal cost), but Eddie would be eleven the first time he decided that it was okay and safe for him to acknowledge who his real father was.

The bestest dad in all of Hawkins, nay, in all of Indiana…. Wayne Munson.

It was a class assignment in the end. The teacher had told the class to make a card for their dads, or, if they didn’t have a dad, then for someone who was there for them day and night… that, in effect, is what a parent is. Someone who is there for their child in every way that matters and all the ways that don’t.

Eddie ended up writing Uncle Wayne a small letter and he signed it off with, “you’re the only crithit worth celebrating, dad”.

It was something only the Munsons would understand, which is precisely why Eddie had chosen it. He had always had a sharp mind and he had been soaking up the D&D manuals which his dad had gifted him for his ninth birthday like a sponge. For every snippet of information Uncle Wayne carefully relayed to Eddie after reading the same paragraph three times to make sure he understood it properly, Eddie only wanted more.

Thirsty was Eddie for all the things in life which mattered - kindness, love, knowledge, and music.

He wasn’t quite so thirsty for family… he had all of that and more in his dad.

Uncle Wayne was Eddie’s crithit.

So then, Eddie leaves the card laying around on the green kitchen countertop for his dad to find, and he secures its discovery by putting it right next to the kettle. Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be able to miss it if he tried. He leans against the counter, a coffee mug steaming in one hand and his boy’s class assignment in the other.

To dad -

Uncle Wayne’s breath catches in his throat and he has to swallow hard against the stinging of tears in the backs of his eyes and nose.

I don’t know, really, what to write. Teach said to write a letter to our dads for Father’s Day but you were the only one I could think of. You raise me, take good care of me, make me feel like I’m someone. Doesn’t matter what it is, I know you’ll come rescue me… you ARE my dad, you’re my crithit… the only one that matters. I love you, and I hope it’s okay to call you dad. No other person in my life gets to be called that, only you.

If you like this, I’ll do it again next year.

Eddie didn’t sign his name, he just drew a swarm of bats around the capital ‘E’ he liked to try to write in Gothic script.

Uncle Wayne’s coffee that morning was slightly salty; he cried as he drank, and as Eddie rose from bed well after the sun, he was swept up into his dad’s arms. “Thank you, son. You call me whatever you’re comfy with, you hear me? I love you all the same.”

And if Eddie sunk deeper into his dad’s hold, then who needed to know? The Munsons kept themselves to themselves. That was how it had always been and would always be.

Every year after that, Eddie makes sure to get his dad a card for Father’s Day, and a new mug to go with the rapidly growing collection. In 1985, Eddie pays some serious money for someone to recreate the original “you’re my crithit, dad” in eleven year old Eddie’s handwriting on a mug, which is decorated to look like Uncle Wayne’s flannel. There are tears shed, embraces cherished, and words spoken. It’s perfect.

That mug is the only mug in the Munson trailer which is never used. It’s just too damn precious, just like Eddie… he’s Uncle Wayne’s son through and through.❤️

#wayne munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie and wayne munson #stranger things #IM GONNA GO CRY NOW I MISS THEM SOOOOO SO MUCH

[skelekins]

<< >>

Have some copy pasta Gen Swapfell-Facet Lore from my notes app

Disclaimer: messy

Muffet - Snowdin tea and bakery owner. Close relationship with Skeles. Puts cayenne pepper in many versions foods - spicy sweets. Has a few (like 3) setup for spider checkers - a checkers game with an otcoganol board. Waffle-coffee house. Speciality is spider Waffles, Soft Boiled spider Eggs, and Spider coffee

Muffet is a very hairy spider/rancho with scales/hairs all over body like the fluff of a moth. Helps with insulation. Smaller spider monsters are primarily covered in fluff for extra insulation with only tips of legs visible. Spiders wear little uniforms - usually hats/ribbons/tassels

Diner is covered in trap magic - one of many reasons no one causes a lot of trouble - snowdin in general assumed to be covered

Unlike skelebros Muffet can completely hide her trap magic unless someone is looking for it. Or at the very least her anchors are extremely small/needs less.

Smaller spiders may also use trap magic -> mainly just related to their physical silk.

Silk is heavily used in wardrobe and general materials.

Muffet must be seated the majority of the time the diner is open due to outgrowing the building. She doesn’t need to move much to reach every corner of the diner.

Double doors allow Muffet to leave through front if needed but she prefers to use the basement exit that leads to an enlarged basement - big enough for her to move properly, with a separate door out the back of the diner.

Muffet does not often actually leave and the back door is usually locked tight and hidden behind trash and webs. Since she has space to move in her home below she doesn’t see a lot of reason to leave.

Enjoys cooking and making sweet confections with her kin. Finds Sans and Papyrus cute - seen Papyrus grow up. A little older than Sans.

Spider eggs served to help keep populations acceptable. Boiled in a dust bath -> turning the interior monster into a weird edible savory jelly-like creature that is excited to be eaten. They feel no pain and usually find weird entertainment from being eaten in pieces. Not offended if eaten head first.

Diner spiders may actually be at LV 2 -> spiders have their own leveling customs. Basement spiders LV 1 - part of why Muffet and Diner Spiders are partial to Paps and Sans

“Muffet’s”? Like Grillby’s?

Grillbys - bar and grill

muffets - cafe and diner

While being a diner doesn’t actually care how long anyone is there. Closes late opens early -> most of Muffets time is dedicated to business with closing hours uses for rest, self care, and baking for the next day.

Probably has early days and maybe takes a “Websday” off once a month or so. !!she would be big enough and strong enough to easily go to Hotland or the capital if she wanted fancier supplies. !! <- gives part of reason for being so dedicated to the diner. Maybe gets special stuff for her kin/herself. Also cares about residents of Snowdin in her own way.

Like the idea of some of the bigger spiders acting rough and having little spiked bats to emphasize her kind of hard-punk/street gang aesthetic

15' 3"

Alphys - captain of the guard, watches over Waterfall but mostly has attention elsewhere ruling by name alone. Has Stone generally look after it. Originally from Hotland, met Undyne while stationed in Waterfall. Ascends (playing with words dunno if like that) in genocide route. Maybe something Al or Alph <- not a lot of options even with Alf.

Absolute Alphys? Alphys Ascendant

Her gameplay is similiar to Undynes except instead of blocking the player has to shoot her attacks like a game of asteroids.

Undyne - Royal scientist spicy fish yandere-like/light. Drinks beer enjoys super violent manga. Mew Mew -> Bork Bork

Jewel has a rough relationship with Undyne. Initially they were friends but after Undyne met Alphys she started to gain more level. It once got away from her and Jewel had to shortcut away from her as she was undeterred by Sans protection due to her own relationship with Alphys. She moved to Hotland not long after; secretly regretting her actions and not trusting herself in Waterfall any longer.

Napstablook -> Retraton - RTT // Retraton Para -> translates into shared HP forcing use of consumables along with cursor that copy’s players movements // maybe Retrabot to play off being an automaton vs mettaton being robot // Retrabot Para

Retraton held in place/ can’t move legs. Instead commands show through others monsters/puppets/effects. Usually broadcasts tragedies. (stone in turn loves tragedies lmao)

Has Rounded mascot form - form that is held in place. Para is transformation - still held but with extending arms.

Retraton Para - has extra arms.

"Oh yes~" -> "Oh no :("

Previously Napstablook -> taken to Undyne when Alphys found her missing her home; neighbor of Undyne. Forced into robot when he kept trying to return home.

Songs are very sad and yearning. TV shows are A Lot but also uses a lot of effects because it’s not like there’s infinite monsters.

May not actively star is show frequently but instead use puppets || marionette puppets his cast and narrates -> sometimes puppets are real monsters Retraton has some sort of relationship with surrounding monsters hinting at his Para form.

Para - kills Undyne before protag can activating Para form. Para uses Undynes soul. Might kill surrounding monsters / connected monsters as well.

Retraton - no use of legs - part of why puppets. Maybe needs to remain charged or frequently and feels more comfortable plugged in.

Arms > legs.

Box Form -> literally just a box with arms - no wheel. Has to drag himself or walk with his arms. Maybe has a hover butt? Or a skateboard. Or has lots of little legs. Roomba.

Mettaton(MTT)- Hapstablook

Instead of lie on the floor feeling like garbage they sit on the roof and consider love.

Gaster and Riverperson -

Stay in their respective posts however Gaster speaks in song and the Riverperson speaks in hands

Riverperson - gondola (gondoga) dog theme, speaks in hands, gondola above river because river water is too dangerous

Grillby - fire sale; father of fireflies literally flames with wings. Has a pet Fryfly - long fry-like fly. Instead of forcing player onto strings covers the field with hazards and fire. Have to switch and jump over between flames.

Pacified by firesauce (increases damage, possible burn damage, take one damage for spice) or Frenchfire (a firefly with an exploding baguette - covering the board around you in fire for one turn and burning any incoming attacks) or the purchase of either from his Hotland firesale.

Prices may be inverted to some extent -> Hotland Prices are cheaper but u need both items to pacify him. Ruins are achievable but ridiculously expensive. Only need one to immediately pacify him. Differentiated by name is Hotland Firesauce vs Old/Ruin Firesauce

All Dog references -> Cats (and vice versa)

Dog Squad -> Cat Squad

Annoying Dog -> Adorable Cat

#skelekins speaks #swapfell facet #rough notes #General worldbuilding #there’s some others but thought these would be fun #skelekins writes #sorta?idk how to tag lmao

[eldritch-thrumming]

Nancy Wheeler has always considered herself to be a practical kind of person. She keeps to her schedule, she gets her work done, she makes good decisions for her future. That’s why she can’t believe she’s ended up here, stuck at a minimum wage job at the new Starcourt Mall.

If she’s really honest with herself, Nancy can admit that it was a little bit of wishful thinking and a lot of overconfidence that led her here. She’d applied for a really competitive internship out in Indianapolis for the summer and she’d been so sure she was going to get it. Her application was impeccable and she’d thought the interview had gone so well that she’d quit her after school job at the Hawkins Post that same day. All she’d been allowed to do there was order the office lunches and make coffee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays anyway, so it wasn’t like it was some kind of great loss to her. She’d practically added a line to the resume that was sitting in her desk drawer just waiting to be turned in to college admissions offices in the fall. 

And then the call hadn’t come. She’d waited two weeks and then finally given in and called the Indianapolis Star to ask about the status of her application. She’d held the phone in a white knuckle grip as the man on the other end had told her that, while she’d certainly been impressive in her interview, they’d decided to go in a different direction. They’d be sure to keep her in mind for any future positions, he’d assured her. She’d said “thank you” and slammed the phone back into its cradle; she knew exactly what men like that meant when they used the words “different direction.”

So now, Nancy Wheeler was trudging out to the new mall all the way across town everyday, wearing a ridiculous sailor costume and slinging ice cream alongside Eddie Munson, Hawkins High’s resident drug dealer and repeat senior. If anyone asked her--not that they ever would--she’d tell them this was far stranger than watching a demogorgon rip its way through the walls of the Byers house. Stranger by a long shot.

~*~

Eddie Munson’s not sure how he got here. He’d had a good thing going with Reefer Rick. Decent weed, a place to crash when he didn’t feel like sleeping at the trailer, and a pretty great gig that paid the bills.

And then Rick had to go and get himself arrested. Without Rick, Eddie’s supply completely dried up and he had no other real connections in this shitty little town. So what was a guy to do? He couldn’t lay around the trailer all day. He had tapes to buy and gigs to get to. It wasn’t like he could go an entire summer without a cash flow. He’d only really had one option: the new shining temple to the great evils of Capitalism.

That’s how he found himself pulling on the most demeaning sailor uniform in existence every morning and taking his place next to Nancy Wheeler, the princess of Hawkins, behind the counter at Scoops Ahoy, preparing for a summer full of obnoxious tweens and their even more obnoxious mothers. It was going to be a long three months.

~*~

“Where’s Nancy?”

Eddie sighs, but doesn't take his eyes off the Rolling Stone he’s flipping through at the counter. Thank god for whoever’d left it at their table earlier this afternoon.

“Would it hurt you to be polite? What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you?’ ‘Could you please tell me where my sister is?’” Eddie says, finally looking up from his magazine to see little Wheeler scowling at him. Mike reaches over to slam his palm against the bell on the counter, something he knows drives Eddie absolutely insane.

“Hi, hello, how are you? Would you be so kind as to tell me where my darling sister is?” Mike responds, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Eddie sighs again, then calls out, “Wheeler, your demon spawn are here.”

Nancy comes shoving through the door to the backroom with clean ice cream scoops in one hand and a box of little pink sample spoons in the other. Her scowl matches Mike’s.

“I’m not letting you use our mall access for another free movie. Grow up, Mike,” she says, before Mike or his friends can even say anything.

“Come on, Nance, please?” Mike whines. “Will wants to see Day of the Dead and you know we can't get tickets for it.”

Eddie’s eyes shift from Mike to Will, who’s making the biggest, sweetest angel eyes over at Nancy. Eddie can’t help but snort; these kids are good.

“Ugh, fine! But this is the last time.” Nancy shoves the ice cream scoops into their slots by the coolers and then slides the box of spoons toward Eddie, who ignores them. Eddie watches as Nancy leads the kids into the back room. He’s flipped through a couple of more pages of his magazine before she’s back.

“You just got played, Wheeler,” he tells her as she opens the spoons Eddie had left untouched.

“Will’s... been through a lot. He deserves to see a damn movie.” Nancy doesn’t seem like she wants to elaborate on what she means by that, so Eddie lets it drop.

“How’d you end up here at Scoops anyway? Doesn’t seem like something Nancy Wheeler of all people would be that in to.”

Nancy sighs. “Thought I was gonna get this perfect internship in Indianapolis, but... I didn’t, obviously. My options were limited by the time school ended.” She works on replacing the spoons for a moment, before she says, “What about you? Red, white, and blue don’t really seem like your colors, no offense.”

“None at all taken, Wheeler,” Eddie smirks. “Let’s just say, I’m not that interested in seeing what the inside of a jail cell looks like right now.”

Nancy hums in response but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. Eddie knows his reputation often precedes him. He’s kind of into that, anyway. 

Nancy rounds the counter with a rag to start cleaning sticky puddles of melted ice cream off the tables and Eddie returns to his magazine. They work in silence for the remainder of their shift.

~*~

Two days later, Eddie’s back behind the counter with that same Rolling Stone he keeps stashed under the cash register. He’s read the damn thing front and back so many times, he’s practically got it memorized.

“Hey, is Nance here?”

Eddie doesn’t have to look up to know who’s asking, but he does anyway. His eyes snap up to meet Steve Harrington’s gaze and he can feel his own heart racing a mile a minute. Of course the first time Eddie sees Steve Harrington after graduation, he’s wearing these stupid fucking sailor shorts. He feels his cheeks burning red.

“Uh, she’s on break. You need something?” Nancy usually takes her break in the back room, but today she’d apparently forgotten to bring her lunch, so she's gone out to the food court.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, just two scoops of strawberry, please? In a cone,” Steve glances to his left and Eddie becomes aware of the girl standing at his side for the first time. He vaguely recognizes her from school, thinks maybe she plays the trombone or the trumpet or something dorky like that. “You want anything?” Steve nudges the girl with her elbow.

“Can I get the Banana Boat with chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, please? And extra whipped cream,” the girl says.

“That’s for four people,” Eddie tells her, raising his eyebrows.

The girl just smiles and then Steve says, “You've never seen her eat, man, it’s like a snake unhinging its jaw to swallow a baby whole, seriously.” He pulls out his wallet as he speaks. 

Eddie laughs nervously. “I’ll take your word for it. That all?”

Steve smiles, seemingly pleased that Eddie laughed at his joke. “That’s it, man, thanks.”

Eddie tells him the total, takes his money, and then works on the Banana Boat for Robin. He slides it across the counter to her and watches as her eyes light up at the mountain of whipped cream he’d piled on top. Eddie grabs a cone and scoops out some strawberry. And so what if he makes the scoops just a little bigger than he normally would?

Eddie hands the cone to Steve over the counter, their fingertips brushing.

“Thanks,” Steve says, and his pink tongue darts out to catch a piece of ice cream that’s about to fall from the cone. Eddie’s brain short circuits watching him. “Can you tell Nancy we stopped by?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Eddie hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strangled and strained as he thinks it does.

Steve takes another lick from his cone. Eddie’s eyes track the movement hungrily. “Wow, this is great. We’ll definitely be back. See you around?” Steve smiles at him again and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, so he just nods and waves, which makes Steve’s smile grow bigger before he’s turning and guiding the girl out of the store and into the busy mall. Eddie watches them go, eyes fixed out the door long after they’ve disappeared from view.

~*~

Nancy sits at the food court and contemplates her life. She’s seventeen years old, working at an ice cream shop, and sneaking her kid brother into R rated movies. How did it all come to this? 

She knew her job at the Hawkins Post had been a dead end. She was supposed to be a journalism intern, but they’d treated her like their own personal assistant and didn’t even allow her to sit in on pitch meetings or read any drafts before they were sent to print. She’d encouraged Jonathan to take on the photography internship and he’d had more access to the actual news writing than she ever had.

Nancy didn’t consider herself a particularly bitter person, but that had left a terrible taste in her mouth. She knew it wasn’t Jonathan’s fault, that it was a flaw in the system not in how Jonathan saw her, but she couldn’t stomach it when he defended the way she was treated. He was always telling her they were interns and they were just lucky to be there. He didn’t get it.

That’s why she hadn’t felt too bad about breaking things off when she’d quit the Post, so sure that she was destined for bigger and better things out in Indianapolis. Nancy loved Jonathan, she really, really did, and they’d been through so much together. But Jonathan’s ambitions had never really matched her own and she couldn’t ask him to wait around for her all summer, not when she wasn't sure she even wanted to come back. Besides, she was seventeen. No one met the love of their life at seventeen.

“Hey, Nance!” Nancy hears someone call to her from across the food court. Her neck snaps up from where she’s been staring at the congealed yellow substance masquerading as cheese on her fries to see Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley walking toward her. Steve’s got a dripping pink cone in his hand and Robin’s got a half eaten Banana Boat. Nancy sighs. She doesn’t like it when people she knows see her in this stupid fucking outfit.

“Hey, Steve,” she says, trying her bast to smile. “How’s it going?”

“Ah, you know, doing this stupid fucking job my dad got me for the summer,” Steve tells her. Nancy had heard something about Steve getting hired at the Post not long after she’d quit. She hadn’t really been able to believe it, but Mr. Harrington pulling some strings for his son made a lot of sense. “This is Robin, she’s another intern there. I think you guys are the same year?”

“Yeah, I know Robin,” Nancy smiles at the girl next to Steve, who seems too preoccupied with the half melted concoction in her hands to really pay attention to Nancy and Steve’s conversation.

“We were just stopping in to Scoops to see you,” Steve tells her. “Thought you were still at the Post, but then Jonathan said you’d quit? Dustin mentioned you were here now.” 

“Yeah, you know, thought I’d get some real-world experience. Make some money. Develop some people skills.” Nancy doesn’t want to admit that she’d made such a huge mistake, doesn't want anyone to know how sure she’d been, only to be shot down in a single phone call. It’s bad enough that Jonathan and Eddie know just how foolish she’d been and she doesn’t even really care what Eddie thinks of her, which is the whole reason she’d even told him in the first place. 

“Right.” Steve gets that little frown line in between his brows that Nancy had once thought was the cutest thing ever, back in another life. “Well, we have to get back so...”

“Yeah, no, me too. Break’s almost over. Can’t leave Munson alone with all that ice cream for too long.” It’s a lame joke. Nancy can relate.

She gathers her half-eaten fast food and heads for the trash can. She tries her hardest not to look back at Steve and Robin as she walks back toward Scoops.

Inspired by this post.

#nancy wheeler #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 3 #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #ronance #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steddie fic #I posted a shorter version of this and it FLOPPED so hopefully people like this? idk #steve harrington #robin buckley #Nancy Eddie friendship when??? #steddie blurb #my writing

[huntunderironskies]

A Call to Action

Hi all.

I wish I had better news to give. I thought long and hard about whether or not I should share this because I will be functionally doxxing myself when I do. But I've had several days to sleep on it and think about what to do. I've come to the conclusion that this is more important than me. This will be a long post but I urge you to read all of it. I'm afraid I have to be thorough here given the situation.

I think everyone who has been following me for more than a week knows how much I love religious studies as a field. It is my single greatest passion in life.

Unfortunately my school, UNC Greensboro, is trying to eliminate our department under claims of it being "not financially justifiable," among others (including anthropology and all Korean language classes.) These claims are highly spurious. Debunking this in full will take some time but I'll try to cover as much ground as I can in the relatively short space I am given and provide some sources. If anyone needs further elaboration, I'll report to the best of my abilities.

This is all to lead into the fact that I would like to provide some opportunities for people to help us out over here, which I will cover at the end. The shortest possible version is: please signal boost this. I do urge you to read it in full, though.

With the first introduction out of the way...

A Second But Very Brief Introduction to Religious Studies and a Justification of Its Presence in Academia (Given the Natural Bent of this Site is Sometimes Towards Antitheism)

Feel free to skip this if you have any familiarity with religious studies as a discipline, I'm putting it here because I find that it's often confounded with theology and every time I talk about it someone asks me if I'm going to be a priest (no.)

To be clear, religious studies is not theology. It does not purport the existence of any higher spiritual powers or presences. It is strictly the study of religion and spirituality as a force in human culture. This falls under both negative and positive effects, and covers everything from historical impact to individual psychology to macrosociological effects of religion to the simple understanding and study of mythology and folklore.

While internalized cultural norms are of course an issue that must be overcome by any scholar, for a religious studies scholar the Catholic Worker, the Sikh ragi, and the long-dead Sumerian ašipu should all have their beliefs and inner lives treated with the exact same sort of gravity and understanding, no matter how far their own beliefs might be from our own. It is, in my subjective opinion, the most humanizing of all the humanities because we are forced to operate on a deeply personal, vulnerable level.

I wish I didn't have to explain why these sorts of skills are important, especially given the current climate of intolerance that has been growing across the world and the growth of anti-intellectualism. I recognize that I might have to but I don't want to linger on that given everything else I have to cover in this post. Go ahead and ask as I do love talking about my field but I might take some time to answer.

A Brief Summary of Events Beforehand

My school has hired a firm known as rpk Group (lack of capitalization true to actual title) to restructure school funding financially with a focus on eliminating programs deemed to not earn enough for the school. Here is a brief explanation from the source itself. I apologize if the school website's CSS is still broken and it's difficult to read due to the social media icons being about thirty times the size they should be. Apparently they couldn't find the funding to pay a web designer instead of an expensive financing firm.

Those of you who have kept up with news in American academia may recognize this as the same group that forced cuts at West Virginia University. Please keep that in mind as we go forward.

Here are the high points:

Religious studies attained a passing grade under the rubric set out by the school. There have been active attempts to hide the scoring system from anyone but faculty. The spreadsheet in which the data was published has been password protected (source, which also contains several other refutations to the chancellor's talking points.)

For those who wish to keep score, anthropology did as well and our anthropology program is known for being quite good. This is without going into the other benefits the anthropology program provides the school with, which include such things as a community garden.

There were lower scoring programs that were kept. In other words, the decision-making process has been entirely inscrutable.

This is supported by the fact that the administration has been giving out incorrect numbers regarding program attendance to both news outlets and students, with some programs proposed to be cut having their student enrollment off by several factors.

Religious studies had over five times as many students as was originally reported. The Chinese language minor was reported to have zero students when there were thirty-six. To operate with this level of error from alleged professionals beggars belief and undermines any faith I would've had in this process.

The administration has claimed that they used the correct numbers in their rubrics. As they will not publish further data to myself nor the public, I have no evidence this is actually true.

They were going to cut Korean language as a minor. We don't have a Korean language minor. We do have a track of Korean language and I am given to understand as of this semester, culture courses. Which are operated solely by one professor and are consistently full or close to capacity due to popularity. There is no evidence they are losing the school money and I have several testimonials that the Korean culture-related programs have drawn students to UNCG as it is a unique niche the school gives not just over other UNC schools but over other colleges and universities.

Faculty and students were given information about what programs would be cut at precisely the same time, through an email sent schoolwide. Many students and faculty were in class at the time this was sent and had to proceed as if they weren't about to have their programs eliminated.

The administration alleges that current students will be able to finish their degrees. I have little faith this is the case for reasons that will take a while to get into but, to summarize as briefly as possible, completion of a degree here requires certain high-level classes that may be difficult to obtain with faculty cuts.

The chancellor alleges that Jewish Studies and Islamic Studies will not be affected by the elimination of religious studies, despite the fact that they are hosted under the department and Islamic Studies uses the same funding. As such, I believe that the highly technical and academic category used to refer to this sort of thing is "a blatant lie."

The administration has tried to quietly edit out any errors in original reporting. I am pleased to report that, as many of us intensely online people know, the Wayback Machine exists. Here is the original statistically incorrect press release that was given, which they have tried to bury.

While they have held forums, these have largely been ceremonial gestures rather than serious attempts at communication. At the one I went to, all non-administration speakers were given only two minutes to speak while the chancellor and dean were given as much time as possible to respond. Their responses to concerns were often dismissive and rarely addressed the necessary issues. I believe any person present will back me up on this, though I am not currently in possession of a voice recording.

I must operate within the evidence I am given. The best-faith interpretation of their actions is that the metrics they were using to determine what cuts should be made are incorrect and must be re-done before going through with any sort of program cuts, and that the administration's collaboration process with the group they employed is poor to nonexistent given the scattershot information provided. There is very, very clearly a communications breakdown somewhere along the line that raises this entire procedure into question.

I think it goes without saying it's all downhill from there. The level of arbitrariness with regards to cuts, lack of professionalism, and total lack of transparency would lead a reasonable person to believe there are heavy political motivations involved here and not simple brute facts. You are welcome to draw your own conclusions anywhere along this spectrum, of course. I encourage you to be skeptical.

Lastly, if I can't convince you that it's worth stopping this process to save religious studies, think about the anthropology department. Think about the languages that are getting cut. Think about physics or mathematics. A large-scale public university without a physics program is quite frankly unreal and the fact it's primarily humanities being targeted runs parallel with some sinister trends within American education. This process should, at the very least, be halted for time being.

What You (the Reader) Can Do

Firstly, be aware that we have until February 1st before decisions are finalized. I apologize for the short time limit. Myself and other members of the community were taken completely by surprise as well, and once again as I mentioned above it has caused some level of cynicism around the motivations of the administration.

With that out of the way...make noise about this. The school administration is making all efforts to keep this quiet. I can say the good news is that according to other people on the ground, they are beginning to lose control of their narrative that they are making difficult financial decisions to keep the school financially solvent.

Believe it or not, the farther removed you are, the better. If this hits a national scale then the school may be finally forced to acknowledge they are rapidly causing the otherwise prestigious UNC system, typically considered to be one of the best public university systems in the US, to be a national laughingstock and that they will lose money as their reputation declines in a way that they would not have if they'd simply carried out this process in a more reasonable way.

You can sign our petitions here and here. Easy enough, takes about three minutes, self-explanatory.

Finally, reach out to an academic or any passionate learner in a specialized field today. A lot of us feel understandably threatened and demoralized. Again, this is not just about me or even about my school. This is about trends within the American education system. Explaining the hows and whys in full detail is not within the scope of this post, but I think a reasonable person can conclude after looking at the current evidence that there is a dismantling of American schools in favor of a corporatized existence. For those of us who love knowledge and learning, this is incredibly sinister. Knowledge should not have a price tag put on it.

A Final Word

I and several other people have Chancellor Gilliam on record saying that he has dedicated his life to working at the collegiate level and towards students. While he and the administration have tried to ensure that their statements outside of highly controlled environments are not easily accessible, I should be able to provide a clip if needed given that this statement was livestreamed and North Carolina is a one-party-consent state in regards to recordings.

They have consistently characterized this process as having to make hard decisions to keep the university afloat. The chancellor is currently the highest-paid employee within UNCG itself and the fourth highest-paid member of administration within the UNC system as a whole (source.) Please be aware this does not include other benefits, which in 2022 put his salary above $500,000 (source.) As others have, I must ask why these "difficult decisions" within the school have not included a salary cut for himself if he is so dedicated to improving the lives of students.

Thank you for your time and consideration. If you've gotten this far, you've already listened more than anyone outside of the academic departments have and that means a lot to me in and of itself.

#religious studies #mythology #college #studyblr #college life #university #north carolina #theology #religion #unc #tagging in as much stuff as i can think of lol #anything is worth a shot at this point #academia

[here2bbtstrash]

real magic - teaser (explicit)

❆ genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic

❆ pairing: namjoon x reader

❆ summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your DILF coffee shop boss to the list.

❆ teaser word count: 1.4k

❆ teaser contains: the good ol' "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, the bittersweet nostalgia of the holidays when you're not a kid anymore, moni being a little shit, sweaty namjoon (YES that's a warning 😩), namjoon in a protect trans kids shirt (oop i told you it was coming!!!!), all wrapped up in a nice lil meet-cute bow 🎁

❆ part of a hyung holiday collab - dropping december 2022!

❆ A/N: ahhhhh i am SO EXCITED about this collab y'all 🫠 hope you're ready for some hot dad namjooooooon~ and i'm beyond stoked for the hyung goodness @nabiolive @gimmethatagustd and @haliiimede are gonna bless us with like we're not WORTHY 😭 be sure to go check out their teasers and show them some love!!! 🤍

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts collab #a hyung holiday