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mrkis · 10 months

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birthday treat. (m.l)

PAIRING: mark lee x reader GENRE: smut WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SYNOPSIS: giving birthday boy mark his birthday treat

CONTENT WARNINGS: established relationship, 18+ content, kissing, light nipping, swearing, ass grabbing, oral (m receiving), blowjob, slight face fucking, unprotected sex, praising, creampie, cockwarming.

authors note| happy bday to my lil love♡

You couldn’t hide your excitement as Mark walks through the front door of your apartment, tired face lit up in surprise and awe at the birthday decorations that covering your walls, green and red balloons filled with helium pressed to the ceiling and he jumps back in surprise as you pull the thread of the party popper, the confetti spraying him in the face.

He laughs, dropping his bag down by his feet as he opens his arms wide when you come running towards him, throwing yourself into his embrace and wrapping your own arms around him as tightly as you can.

Mark exhales softly as he returns the hug, nuzzling his nose into the crevice of your neck and breathing in your scent as he rocks your body from side to side, laying small, delicate pecks on your skin and you grin widely, leaning back from the hug to take a good look at him.

He looks tired, unable to keep eye contact with you for too long without his eyes fluttering close for a few seconds and reopening, dark prominent circles underneath. It makes you frown seeing how tired your boyfriend is, knowing he’s giving it his all during his schedules on the limited amount of sleep he’s getting.

You almost feel a little guilty for asking him to come over after his schedule was over, knowing deep down that he should’ve gone straight to the dorms to get some well needed rest. But you missed him, and you didn’t exactly want to miss his birthday

You move your one hand to cup his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb as you whisper, “Happy birthday”

Mark gives you a sluggish smile, “Thank you, baby” He presses his lips to yours in a kiss for a few seconds before he trails them down your throat and you smile at the loving touch, goosebumps trailing down your spine when you feel his hands dip underneath your shirt and the warmth of his palms on your lower back.

He nips at your skin, causing your head to tilt to the side to give him more access and your lips curl into a grin when his hands slip downwards, fingers splayed across your ass and gripping gently to pull you closer to him.

“Are you tired?”

“Not really” Mark answers, but he doesn’t stop his movements, pulling you flush against him as he nips down harder on your skin. “A little, I don’t know”

“Why don’t we go to bed?” You suggest, trying to keep yourself calm and collected when you feel his mouth brush over the sensitive spot on your neck as he makes his way back up to your face, lips brushing over yours. “Let you rest for a while and we’ll celebrate your birthday tomorrow?”

“I’m not that tired” Mark tells you as he reconnects your lips and you sigh into the kiss, arms tightening around his shoulders. It’s sweet and soft, the slow movements of your mouths, but when you curl your hand at the nape of his neck, his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

His tongue slides over yours and his chest vibrates with a low moan, the grip on your ass tightening as he tries to pull you even close despite you being as close as you could possibly be.

You allow him to do whatever he wants, your breath getting caught at the back of your throat when he sucks on your tongue, when he nibbles down on your bottom lip and pulls it, when he rubs his front against yours and you feel his hardened cock beneath his jeans.

“Mark” You call out his name as you break the kiss, staring at him and noticing how his eyes are still closed, his lips swollen and wet, breathing heavily from the lack of oxygen. You gently tug at his hair and he tiredly opens his eyes, finally looking back at you. “What do you want?”

“You” Mark answers, licking at his lips. “I want you. I need you. I’ve missed you”

You smile at his babbling and take his hand in your own, leading him towards your bedroom and he follows behind closely, hovering behind you as he drags his feet across the floorboards, squeezing your hand every so often.

When you reach the bedroom, he’s already heading towards the bed as you close the door, dropping your hand to pop the buttons on his jeans and pull down the zipper, ridding himself of the clothing and stumbling over his own feet.

He palms his cock over the front of his boxers and you almost drool at the sight, having not seen him in person like this for such a long time it makes your thighs clench together, watching as he rubs himself over the fabric as he looks at you, waiting for you.

“How do you want me?” You ask him quietly and he groans at the question, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“On your knees. Please” His plea makes a warmth spread through your chest and you smile, walking over to stand in front of him before slowly dropping down to your knees and looking up at him. He finds you so beautiful, so angelic with your pretty eyes staring at him and he becomes flustered for a moment, licking his lips nervously as he tugs his boxers down his legs, tensing under your touch when he feels your fingers ghost over his thighs.

His cock slaps against his stomach once freed completely and he wraps his hand around himself, pressing his lips together tightly when he taps the head of his cock against your lips, moaning softly as you stick out your tongue to get a taste.

“Put it in your mouth”

You don’t hesitate to do so, spitting on his cock for extra lubrication before taking him in your mouth, reeling at the groans that erupt from his chest as he drops his hand from his cock to rest it on top of your head.

He doesn’t grab your hair, nor does he control your movements as he allows you to do as you please, taking him further into your mouth and swallowing around him, almost choking as his hips accidentally jerk forward and his cock thrusts down the back of your throat.

“Fuck” Mark curses between gritted teeth, neck straining as his head tilts back.

The sounds he makes for you has your mind whirling with arousal, wanting nothing more than for him to cum down your throat, wanting to swallow every last drop he gives you. So you change your pace, bobbing your head faster on his cock and using your hand to pump the rest of him, the other fondling his balls which makes him whimper softly, thighs trembling at the touch.

“You’re so good to me, you know…” He suddenly praises you under his breath, stroking the top of your head as he looks down at you. “My girl, yeah?”

You hum, the vibrations around his cock causing him to moan loudly and the grip on your head becomes a little tighter, holding you still as he lazily rolls his hips forwards and you do your best to swallow around him, trying your hardest not to gag on his size.

“I’ve missed you, missed your mouth… pretty mouth” He whispers, licking at his lips as his hips begin to stutter, edging closer and closer to his orgasm and your chest swells with pride. “Baby, you’re going to make me cum if you keep looking at me like that”

“I want you to” You tell him as you pull your mouth off of his cock but continue jerking him off, smiling as he thrusts in your hand. “Cum on my tongue. You deserve it”

“Wait,” Mark’s fingers wrap around your wrist and you stop your movements, staring up at him confused as he breathes heavily. “Can I cum inside you? I want to cum inside you”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you nod, standing up from your kneeling position to quickly rid yourself of your clothes, dropping them carelessly to the floor as Mark lays across your bed, resting his head on the pillows as he stares at you tiredly with his hand outstretched.

You take it, allowing him to pull you on top of him and he moulds his lips with yours, craning his neck to kiss you deeper as you settle yourself above him, resting your thighs on either side of his hips and he lets go of your hand to grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing the skin between his fingers before he trails behind you, grabbing at your ass desperately and you fight the urge to laugh, lining the head of his cock at your entrance.

Breaking the kiss, your brows pinch together at the stretch, your palm flat on Mark’s chest as you ease yourself down on him and Mark gasps, mouth falling open as he draws in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, Mark” You gasp once he fills you up completely, buried to the hilt and you would struggle to kep yourself upright if it wasn’t for Mark’s grip on your ass, squeezing you reassuringly and you begin to start rocking your hips.

There’s a crease in his brow as he furrows them, mouth ajar as moans and grunts spill from his lips, the tightness and warmth of your pussy making him unable to think straight and his fingers flex across your asscheeks, rolling his hips upwards to meet your thrusts,

Your pussy pulses around him as his eyes meet yours, filled with love and adoration that would’ve made you start crying if you weren’t so horny and desperate to cum—and for him to cum inside you.

“Feels so good,” Mark tells you. “You don’t understand how much I’ve missed being inside you, baby… I’ve missed feeling you like this. Think about it all the time… It’s crazy how much I’m into you”

“I hope so” You smile, grinding your hips down and rubbing your clit against the smooth skin of his pelvis. “I’m crazy about you too”

“Makes me feel like one lucky guy” He dumbly grins up at you but it slips away in almost an instant when your walls clamp around his cock, and he curses under his breath, his hips fucking up into you faster. “Do you love me?”

“Always”

“Tell me you love me,” He begins to pant, hands moving from your ass to grab your hips, pressing his thumbs into your side. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum, baby… Tell me you love me”

You repeat the three words like a mantra as you rock your hips faster, your own orgasm building up and your voice starts to break, tears brimming in your eyes at the pace he fucks up into you and he whispers those three words back to you.

He’s filling you up in an instant, spurts of cum painting your walls white as your own orgasm washes through your thighs quivering around his frame and you struggle to keep yourself upright. He’s trembling beneath you, breathing heavily as his cock pulses, unable to control the jerking movements of his hips but gasps due to the sensitivity he feels.

“Jesus Christ—fuck” Mark’s body goes limp, chest and cheeks flushed, hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead, eyes almost ready to give in and sleep. You even go to move yourself off of him when you see his tiredness kicking back in but he’s whining, tightening his grip on your waist. “Wait, no, baby. Stay”

“Stay?” You can’t help but laugh as you push his head out of his eyes, stroking his cheek affectionately. “We can’t stay like this”

“Please?” He asks again and you feel yourself crumble as you see his pleading eyes. “Just for a few minutes… I’m not ready to let go of my girl yet”

©mrkis

#mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader

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queers-gambit · 2 years

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Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

prompt: when Eddie confesses he wants to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom, you start coughing out flower petals.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 8.8k [got a bit carried away]

note: given ages aren't confirmed in the show, let's establish that Chrissy is 17-18 years old, and Eddie's 19. reader's 18.

warnings: Hanahaki Disease ([Japanese folklore] fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when suffering from one-sided love), cursing, angst, seemingly unrequited love, but things work out! ✅ no spoilers

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease fics: Tears in the Rain Gone with the Sin

Like every other Friday night, you hitched a ride back to his trailer with Eddie as you had nowhere else to be. Well, probably wasn't true as you were a social butterfly with plenty of prospective friends to hang out with, but your favorite place on any given day was always with Eddie.

He was home, he was safety, he was warmth, he was what you needed after either a really bad, or even a really good day.

Eddie had this superpower where he could either turn your bad mood around or he could increase your happiness tenfold. He was next to never upset or angry or frustrated, he was content to vibe in a constant state of "chill".

Your feelings for him might've started around your sophomore year, when he decked Jason Carver in the jaw for making you uncomfortable. Even to this day - it was one of the only times you've seen him angry, and the fact that it was because Jason was flirting with you made your heart lift. It spurred the hate between the two boys, but only solidified your everlasting friendship with Eddie. Yet, you buried these feelings out of fear of rejection, and change - you didn't want things to change.

You liked things where they were.

But it was getting harder to pretend you didn't like your best friend. As if everything he did didn't make you feel silly, stupid, and giddy all at once.

As if those wide, brown, doe eyes didn't make you melt, yet simultaneously make you feel stronger than before. A single look from him could give you enough confidence for a week.

As if his antics, pet names, hand holds, late night cuddle sessions when you were feeling lonely didn't put your stomach in knots but send you heart up to the sky, like if was filled with helium.

However, you were content because you never wanted to lose him. So, you'd suffer through whatever this was if it meant he stayed close. Despite the heaviness in your chest, you continued to pretend nothing was wrong because if Eddie picked up on it, he would surely hound you until you confessed - something you couldn't handle.

So, you curled up beside him in his (stained) bed with your head leaning on his shoulder as his hands distracted themselves by fiddling with the strings on his acoustic guitar while you nursed the joint between your lips. You were content to simply exist with him; be in his presence and listen to his musical talents. Occasionally, your hand would raise the joint to his lips, allowing him to take his own hit and for the peacefulness to prolong.

Things were good - like they've been for the past few years of being "best friends". I mean, yeah, you knew Eddie before the "Jason incident", but you were just a Freshman that only knew the town's Freak from a distance. You had two classes together. Often saw him at lunch. Sometimes gave him notes if he missed class. And ever since that day that he protected you from Jason's creepy moves, you've been thicker than thieves.

Things were quiet in his room outside of the occasional crackling of the joint's end, and his lazy strumming; things were peaceful; things were good.

Until Eddie sighed and leaned back to the wall behind you both, interrupting the simple thoughts in your head.

"What's up?" You asked quietly, turning to ash the joint in the plastic tray on his bedside table. "Huffin' pretty loud over there, pretty boy, I can practically hear you overthinking."

"It's stupid," he chuckled, focusing on the strings beneath his fingertips again. "Don't even think about it."

"I doubt it's nothing," you countered. "C'mon, you tell me any and everything."

"I, uh... I don't know how to tell you this thing, though..."

Now you were curious, "You kill someone?"

"What? No! God!"

"Gotta hide a body?"

"Not this weekend."

Nodding, you asked, "You fuck my mom?"

"Not yet, but can't say it's not on my to-do list," he teased lightly.

"Then I don't know what scenario there could be that you're too scared to tell me," you chuckled, smoking wafting in the thin air between you both, lingering from the lack of circulation. "C'mon, cutie, what's up with you? You don't usually hold back."

He sighed, the strings plucking harshly as he his head flopped back now. "It's just... Have you given any thought to prom?"

"Prom?" You repeated with a small laugh. "Not entirely, I don't know. Why? Thinking of crashing it?"

But he was silent, which made you a little nervous. You sat up and turned to face him head-on, your criss-crossed legs resulting in one knee pressing to his thigh. He looked like he wanted to say something, but a subtle shake from his head assured you that he changed his mind.

"Are you going?" he asked softly instead.

"Um, nobody's asked so I don't know. I'd like to, maybe," you tried to joke. "Why? You offering?"

He chuckled lowly, "Uh, well, I would be, if..."

"If?"

He gulped, "You know Chrissy?"

Of course you knew Chrissy Cunningham, who didn't? You didn't live under a rock, for God's sake. She was the designated 'it girl' of Hawkins, the 'queen' as people dubbed her - a sweet girl who was captain of the cheer squad that had an impeccable smile. Adorable strawberry blonde hair. A petite body, sweet voice, and of course, she'd been Eddie's crush since middle school. Yeah, you knew Chrissy Cunningham.

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding slowly. "What about her?"

"Well, I uh... I was thinking of asking her to prom. You know, before we graduate and get the fuck out of this town... Thought maybe I'd try my hand, you know? See if... See if something could finally happen."

You swear your ears started ringing because no way you heard him correctly, right? No way he was telling you he was going to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom - no way. There wasn't any way. After all, the plan since about a year ago was that you would go together pending no other offers. No way the guy you've been in-love with for fucking YEARS was telling you he wanted to ask someone else.

And Eddie didn't know, but about 8 different guys had already asked you but you didn't want to go with them. You wanted Eddie to ask you - you wanted to spend a night of teenage normalcy with your best friend, and maybe get the chance to confess your feelings for him on the dance floor. Maybe you'd dress to match. Maybe he'd even get you a corsage - but Eddie wasn't the type.

So, why was he thinking about asking Chrissy? High school thriving Chrissy? Who would definitely want the stereotypical high school experience? Like - prom with a pretty dress, lots of laughter, her date giving her a corsage as her mom snapped pictures.

She would want all that, right? Would Eddie be the right date to give it to her?

You were honestly shocked he wanted to even go due to the idea that anything socially conforming was out of bounds for him. And when you made that pact, it was mostly out of a joke but you had hoped this whole time he was being serious. And he was being serious about prom, but not with you...

"Sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly, his brows now furrowed in concentration. "You okay? You look a little shaky."

Instantly, you nodded. "Yeah, totally, just, um... Just remembered I have this huge essay due Monday, yeah, uh-huh, yep. I should probably get started on it." Eddie's brows now fully crinkled as you jerked your leg away from his when his hand moved to lay on it, turning and instantly finding your belongings scattered around the floor of his bedroom. "Um, yeah, so, as for prom and Chrissy - I think it's cute. You should ask her, she'd be stupid to say no."

Eddie watched you tug your shoes on in haste, sitting up, "Hey, slow down, speed racer, I'll drive you - "

"No, it's cool," you assured swiftly, tugging your jacket on to combat the chill of the spring night. "I need the exercise."

Eddie scoffed, "I'm not letting you walk."

"I don't want a ride, Eddie," your voice took on an uncharacteristic hardened tick, something you've never had to use with Eddie. But you couldn't help it, your chest was caving in and lungs burning the longer you stayed there. "I just wanna walk for a bit, clear my head before homework, okay?"

He nodded slowly, "You sure, doll?"

"Positive."

Eddie frowned when your bag was tugged up your shoulder, turning from his room and jumping when he called, "Wait!"

Praying to God he was going to tell you he changed his mind and he wanted to ask you to prom - not Chrissy - you turned to look back to him. But he only pouted, "Don't leave without sayin' goodbye, sweetheart, c'mere."

Fearing the wet sensation coating your throat, you just backed up to the door and blindly reached for the doorknob, "You'll see me later, Eds. I've gotta go."

"Call me when you get home?" He asked, standing from his bed when you pulled his bedroom door open and moved out into the hall of his trailer. "Hey, hey, honey, what's the rush?" Eddie called, jogging a couple steps to follow after you.

"Just gotta go, Eds," you couldn't face him. But something tickled your throat and nose, prompting you to ask, "Um, do you have any tissues?"

He nodded, watching you pause by the front door before turning for the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a box and handed it over, "Take it. I'm sure your allergies are acting up."

You nodded, "Thanks."

"Wait - "

But you were out the door and surging down the steps of his 'porch', turning on the gravel and making for the main road. Eddie watched you go from his front door, worrying over whatever he'd said, but after wracking his mind, he couldn't understand. He didn't need to know your chest was so painful, you debated if you were having a heart attack at 18; making you desperate to get away from him if it meant the pain would lessen.

You cried the whole walk home. The 8-minute car ride was actually a 41 minute walk due to the tightness in your chest, the tissue box tight in your hand as your lungs started to itch, burn, constrict themselves.

The coughing started that night. The entire walk, you used tissue after tissue to cough into and would ignore the flecks of color present against the soft white, shoving them down into your bag.

When you arrived home, the house was, as usual, empty. Steve Harrington used to hang out a lot with you due to how often both of your parents are out of town but once he started dating Nancy Wheeler, all visits stopped. Granted they were broken up now, he still didn't come back, and you were forced to get used to the loneliness. It left room for Eddie to slide into his place, often coming over to keep you company as being home alone for so long often made you nervous.

Eddie hated you feeling nervous, so, he had a couple of shirts and pants at your house for him to change into when he stayed the night. Now that he was going to make a move on Chrissy Cunningham, it made you think there wouldn't ever be other sleepovers. You worried he would never come back to your home, and an ice pick was conjured to stab through my heart.

In your room, you tossed your bag to your bed and groaned when it bounced off and spilled the contents over the floor. Shaking your head, you coughed a couple more times and got ready for bed; but soon, the coughing turned violent.

Kneeling over, your throat burned with crushing pain as your chest felt too tight with pressing tension. The heaviness was back, sitting right on your sternum and causing a twisting discomfort when you hurled into the toilet bowl. However, when your watery eyes opened, they were staring straight into clear water that was peppered with tiny little florals with swirls of bright red blood.

Panting in shock, confusion inked into your mind as you stood shakily to your feet and rushed for your bag again, pushing through the belongings to find the used tissues. Panic swelled in your chest when the tissues found, too, were coated in petals and blood.

"What?" you whispered to yourself, fear taking over. However, instead of doing the rational thing, like go to the hospital, you just threw the tissues away, flushed the rest, and curled up in bed out of exhaustion and draining adrenaline. Sobs wracked your lungs, making your body convulse and for the coughing to get worse.

You didn't move all weekend. You couldn't, for the pain was too great in your heart, mind, and body. Even when the phone rang multiple times through those two days, you couldn't care enough to get out of bed and answer it to see whatever was wanted from you. When the next Monday came around, you forced yourself to get in the shower and wake up from the cold water; getting dressed and heading out the front door to spy Eddie's van at the base of your driveway.

You sighed and made sure there were extra tissues in your bag as you made for his passenger door. When you hopped in, you were greeted with a glare.

"How was the essay?" he grits.

"Fine," you sighed, knowing it was a lie to make your swift escape, and leaned your arm on the door to prop your head up and stare out the window.

"Mhm. Thanks for letting me know you got home safe," he snipped. "Not like I was driving around at 1 am to make sure you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere."

You nodded slowly, "I forgot, I-I'm sorry."

"You forgot?" he repeated before scoffing. But when he glanced over and noted the heavy bags under your distant (watery) eyes, he frowned, "Hey? Y-You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Your nose is bleeding."

"Shit," you hissed, reaching for a tissue, and trying to mop up the blood from under both nostrils. "It's nothing," you tried to explain, sniffling a few times, and noting how sharp the action made your chest. Like something was stabbing through you, perhaps that ice pick again.

He shook his head, leering, "Suuuuure, mhm, okay." But when you didn't respond for another 3 minutes, he was annoyingly asking, "The hell's up with you?"

"Nothing, Eddie."

"Bullshit! You haven't looked at me once, didn't even greet me when you got in, and now you're sitting there, silent as the grave."

You only shrugged, not knowing how to put it in words, "Just tired, Eddie."

"Bullshit," he sighed. "But fine, if you don't want to talk, that's whatever. Just continue ignoring me, I guess."

Your eyes shut as you sighed, whispering, "I'm sorry."

"Why? What'd you do?"

Only shrugging, your head shook, and you sat up when you two made it to school. The moment the car stopped - not even in park - you were opening the passenger door and hopping out to take desperate gulps of fresh air. You waited a moment as Eddie got out, too, and just as his arm lifted to wrap around your shoulders to lead you into school, his attention was caught by someone else.

"Oh, there's Chrissy," he smiled, seeing the pretty cheerleader at her car. "Should I do it now?"

Gulping, you shrugged, "Do whatever makes you happy, Eds."

Eddie didn't understand what he did wrong to deserve your cold shoulder but figured he could talk to you later before making a beeline for Chrissy while you made for the front of the school. You ignored peers around you as you stuffed books and such into your locker, wheezing into a tissue when coughing took over.

A few other students paused to look at you with concern; you hand slamming to a closed locker as you couldn't draw breath in. The pain was suffocating, and the coughing made you nearly double over.

Robin paused at the sight, making her way over to you and just before she could ask if you were okay, she was gasping lightly. Looking up, you saw what caught her attention to spy Eddie Munson entering school with Chrissy Cunningham daintily hanging off his arm. Jason's glare was most prominent, but your best friend’s was much, much fiercer, and you? You had to look away because the ice pick was now hacking at your heart; palpitations making your chest throb with white-hot tension.

"Oh, no," Robin paused, glancing at you to see tears already in your eyes as your hands shook. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry - "

"Why?" You sniffled, shaking your head. "Doesn't matter, they look happy, right?"

"You don't," she whispered.

"Doesn't matter," you repeated. "I'll see you later, Rob."

She frowned as you charged away, watching you go as Eddie and Chrissy came to a halt beside her. "She say what was wrong with her?" Eddie asked the girl softly.

"No," Robin grit her teeth, offering him a stale up and down look. Though, she was slightly impressed Eddie bagged the popular cheerleader, she knew of your feelings for the metalhead, and huffed through her nose before taking off down the hall after you.

"Is everyone mad at me now?" He asked, looking down to the girl he'd successfully asked to prom.

"I'm not," Chrissy chirped with a soft smile.

So, here's the whole thing. Even though you've denied it for years, your friends knew DAMN well how in-love with Eddie you were. Robin had been the only one to really pick up on it a few years ago but kept quiet because of how close you and Eddie were. However, when you sat down for lunch, the Hellfire Club were ready to ask what was wrong when they saw their Dungeon Master enter the cafeteria with Chrissy.

They offered you looks of pity, understanding your behavior now.

Your hands started to shake, and you coughed harshly, bending at the waist to cough into a tissue half under the table. From beside you, Dustin caught a glimpse of pink and red in the tissue as your hand fisted over it and sniffled hotly. "Are you okay?" Gareth asked in concern, his wide eyes looking ready to shed tears. "You're sweating."

"Yeah," you whispered, catching sight of Eddie and Chrissy heading for your table. "Um, I-I forgot I have a test to make up in Spanish, so, I'll see you guys later, okay?" You rushed, picking up your untouched tray of food and shouldered your bag.

Before any of them could protest, you were tossing the tray and racing out of the opposite doors Chrissy and Eddie had come in through. You vaguely heard Eddie calling your name, never turning around, and shoving out of the doors.

You gasped when the fresh air hit you, not caring that you lied about some test and now headed down for the field. You didn't care if someone picked up on your lie. You didn't care about anything other than the crushing feeling in your chest; the way your lungs felt deflated, and how your throat was consistently wet from blood.

Robin had seen your abrupt departure and left Nancy Wheeler's side to follow you. When she found you under the bleachers, coughing and throwing up with tears down your cheeks, she knew something was wrong. Robin crawled under the bleachers, not caring about the trash or debris left, to reach your side and hold your hair back.

"Oh, my God," she wobbled, catching sight of the puddle under you. "W-What the hell is that?"

You panted, a string of blood hanging from your lips before falling to the saliva beneath you. "I-I think... I think something's wrong, Robin."

"No shit!" She hissed. "Let me take you to the nurse - "

"No, it's fine," you insisted, using another tissue to wipe at the blood under your nose. "I uh... I think I know what's going on."

"What?"

"We'll need to go to the library first," you nodded before shaking your head. "No, never mind, y-you should go back to class."

"Nope," she insisted. "I'll go to the library with you. Want me to call Steve? Get us a ride?"

You sniffled and nodded, tugging your bent knees into your chest as she nodded and begged you to stay put before dashing for the outside payphone. She felt anger as her eyes cast through the glass windows of the cafeteria, catching sight of Chrissy and Eddie laughing away with the rest of the Hellfire Club. Her fingers roughly punched in Steve's number and insisted he come pick you and her up. "Right fucking now, dingus!"

About 9 minutes later, Eddie had glanced out of the windows and caught the distance sight of Robin holding you in her arms and walking you (slowly) to Steve Harrington's trademark BMW.

His brows furrowed in confusion and concern before Chrissy's sweet voice was distracting him. In fact, he might've let himself get swept up in the sweetness of Chrissy - that he forgot you. The girl he's wanted since middle school was finally in his grasp but in order to do that, he had to let you go - resulting in cherry blossoms to sprout in your lungs.

The moment he made up his mind about Chrissy was the moment your fate was sealed. And after a trip to the library with Steve and Robin, you had your answer as to what was going on. It didn't make sense, but you understood there were three options for you at this point.

Option One: die. Literally, that was it. Let this disease kill you. Okay, then Option Two: get Eddie to love you back... And that was seemingly farfetched and way out of asking range. Third Option was to undergo a surgery, but according to literature, choosing this surgery would save your life but erase Eddie Munson from your memory. It was the only way to stop the pain besides dying from it or make someone to fall in love with you.

But that wasn't real love, was it?

So, you checked the book out and Steve drove you home.

You thought you could handle things, after all, the book said it could be manageable. So, you soldiered on and played everything off the next Monday as if you had some head cold making you a bit off, and not literal florals blooming in your fucking lungs.

Eddie didn't question it because he was too excited to tell you that Chrissy had said yes. She said yes - to him! To prom! And she was going to wear red, his favorite color. He was so shocked, it made you want to weep a little because Eddie Munson seemed to be the only one (minus Jason Carver) to not understand how amazing Eddie Munson truly was...

Well, maybe the rest of the school body didn't understand either, but that was beside the point. Eddie was always too hard on himself and hearing how shocked and happy he was that Chrissy said yes, just made you honestly sad. He didn't even know how loved he was, making the self-deprivation very real. It was once upon time ago that your job was to help him out of those ruts, but now it would be Chrissy's responsibility.

You knew if he was yours, you wouldn't let a single day go by where he thought he was inadequate. But he wasn't yours, and now that he had Chrissy, you knew he never would be.

Your throat swelled and more petals were coughed into a tissue in your hand when you realized that you'd bought a prom dress (in case Eddie did ask you) about a month ago, and it, too, was red. Yet, he was going to match Chrissy and you'd wasted $150 on a pretty, silk dress... And new heels because your mother insisted you feel (and look) like a princess.

You tried to be excited and happy for him, but it was hard to when Eddie was enraptured with Chrissy. You coughed more in that week than when you had that terrible flu 2 years ago.

When that Friday rolled around, you were heading for his van (like usual), only to find him and Chrissy waiting on you.

"Hey," you greeted cautiously, smiling at the pretty girl you never really had a full conversation with.

"Hey," Eddie smiled - and you noted the lack of pet name. "Uh, you ready to go?"

"Um, yeah," you cleared your throat, glancing at Chrissy again.

He understood your nonverbal question. "I'm thinking I'll drop you off at home first. Cool?" Eddie offered, looking at you as his arm snaked around Chris' waist.

Confusion warped into your voice, "Um, i-it's Friday?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I-I thought we hung out on Fridays? Like, every Friday?"

Eddie's other hand rose to rub the back of his neck, "Well, yeah, usually, but I'm taking Chrissy out on a date, so, I'll have to drop you off first."

"Oh," your eyes widened, and you felt so fucking stupid in that moment. "Shit, okay, my bad," you backed away, "I can get another ride, it's no big deal. Have fun on your date!"

"Hey, no, don't be ridiculous," Eddie shook his head, taking a tentative step forward as if he was nervous to leave Chrissy's side and approach you. "I take you home every day, c'mon. It's nothing, get in the van. I always take you home."

But you felt sick over the petty idea of sitting in the back while Chrissy took your seat in Eddie's car... Your place in Eddie's life.

Your head shook and a half-smile was forced over your lips. "No, it's seriously okay. You guys should go, it's cool. Have fun, okay?"

Eddie frowned, "I'll call you later tonight, okay?"

"Sure," you whispered, turning finally, and hustling your steps back for the school. Your hand balled in a fist to catch the splatter of blood and petals that shot out of your mouth, trying to shake the sick off so nobody would notice.

Light pink petals danced to the pavement behind you, and your heart plummeted with it as Eddie's van tires squealed when he peeled out of the carpark.

Robin was still at school and agreed to give you a ride home with Steve and Dustin Henderson; the two sharing looks of concern for you the entire drive. They kept asking if they could do anything, but the truth was, they could see the life slowly draining from you, and knew they couldn't do anything.

You didn't answer Eddie's call that night. You didn't let him drive you to school, either, since he'd been busy with Chris that all your conversations now revolved around the girl. This didn't mean he didn't come pick you up, but you usually always opted for the bus to "catch up on reading." You didn't hang out on Fridays either, because it was "date night with Chrissy", and you didn't sit at the Hellfire Club table at lunch.

It went on like this for another three weeks. Eddie replaced you with Chrissy, and she was everywhere you looked. You stopped going to lunch all together in an effort to save yourself from the sight of Eddie's arm around the pretty, popular cheerleader; instead, coughing out cherry blossoms under the bleachers and then forcing a smile on your lips like nothing happened.

The time you did spend together (a minuscule amount of time in comparison), Eddie would fill the space between you with chatter about how amazing Chrissy was - unaware of the pain he was causing you.

Unaware that every word strangled air and rational thought from you.

Unaware that you often held your breath to save you from the pain; to save you from bursting into tears; to save you from yelling at your best friend that you didn't care he finally bagged his crush.

Eddie was going mad, however. He didn't understand your distance, but he also didn't do anything to rectify the situation. He just figured you were going through something, and you'd show up at his trailer soon; tears down your cheeks as his arms open to welcome you.

He started to count the day since he last touched you. Eddie began to feel as if maybe he'd done the right thing by choosing Chrissy due to how far you pulled away from him. He's loved you for years but never admitted or confronted the feelings; so, he convinced himself to let you go in pursuit of Chrissy. So, to save himself from rejection of the most important person in his life, he thought it was a "safer rejection" by asking Chrissy.

He was just shocked she accepted, though he had a sneaking suspicion it was just to piss Jason off. Eddie didn't mind being her distraction because Chrissy was his distraction from you.

When the week of prom rolled around, you couldn't get out of bed because you were in excruciating pain in your heart and mind. Your mother had left on another business trip and only left a stack of cash for "emergencies", telling you she loved you, and never noticing your overflowing waste bin of bloody tissues. So, when Eddie rolled up that Monday, he was confused when you didn't come outside for a few minutes. He beeped, waited longer, beeped again - louder - before confusion troubled his heart.

He knew you were upset and distant, he knew you "liked" riding the bus now; but he also knew you weren't out of your house, yet. He planned on showing up earlier than the time you left, because he wanted to ensure you drove to school together - like usual.

Eddie got out of his van and approached your door, knocking repeatedly but never receiving an answer.

When he got to school, Chrissy told him to call your house and check on you - standing with him, as all he did was listen to the dial tone of a connecting call. You never answered.

At lunch, Eddie found Robin and asked her if she spoke to you at all this past weekend. She glared, "What? You didn't?"

"No," Eddie admitted, "I-I was with Chrissy the whole - "

Robin's eyes rolled and she stood abruptly, making Eddie take a step back. "Forgive me while I go vomit," Robin deadpanned, casting a single glare over his shoulder to the strawberry blonde before pushing past them both.

Eddie asked Hellfire what he'd done - but none of them had an answer. "She's not been looking well," Dustin mentioned. "Keeps coughing out blood."

"What?" Eddie asked, rigid with fear.

Dustin nodded slowly, "I don't think she knows I know, but Steve gave her a ride with us, and her tissues are all bloody."

"She's coughing out blood?" Gareth asked sadly, Dustin nodding. "That's not good, we should get her to a hospital."

"She won't go," Dustin frowned. "I heard Robin trying to convince her, but she keeps saying she's fine."

"She's not fine," Eddie growled.

"Obviously," Lucas rolled his eyes. "She's also not sat with us for weeks."

"She's been avoiding everyone," Jeff added sadly.

"Wonder why," Lucas sneered, casting a glare at his Dungeon Master.

"Am I supposed to know what you're insinuating, Sinclair?" Eddie snipped.

"Aren't you her best friend? Shouldn't you know that she's sick - instead of hearing it from Dustin?"

Eddie shrugged, "So, what? I haven't been able to track her every move. I've been busy - "

"With Chrissy," Dustin and Lucas chimed together; Lucas rolling his eyes before stabbing a green bean forcefully.

"We know," the Freshman 'all-star' basketball player rolled his eyes, pushing his tray away and glaring to the tabletop.

"What did I do?" Eddie asked, looking to his comrades with earnest confusion.

None of them answered because nobody knew what was really wrong. All your friends (including outside of Hellfire) felt concern fester because you were never forthcoming with problems. You never asked for help - it was something observed by others before they're offering you a hand. So, if you were going through something, they knew you'd handle it alone until you couldn't anymore and would confide in them.

Eddie grew increasingly frustrated as time went. For you, time was slower than ever, and you were forced to live through each painful retch and convulsion of your muscles. You laid in bed; a bloody projectile pattern splattered across your sheets; dotted with sticky, pretty petals.

The night of prom rolled around, and you were knelt in front of your toilet again. It had gotten worse; Dustin phoning you every day to update you on school, and unconsciously complaining about how much time Eddie and Chrissy were spending - causing a riff in the group. You tried to assure the Freshman that it was a new and exciting relationship for them both, but Dustin voiced his concerns after spying Chrissy speaking with her ex, Jason Carver.

The vomiting got worse after Dusty's phone call. Acid burned your nose and your throat wept for relief; finding only more pain as the toilet bowl before you decorated with not just your blood, but actual buds of flowers. You knew naturally that cherry blossoms didn't have thorns, but there, before you, were floating pieces of your flesh that was cut from the sharp floral.

You sobbed the whole night. Your chest was ready to cave in and the vomiting, nor pain, wouldn't stop. You wondered if this was how it ended for you - alone, on prom night, coughing out blood while the rest of the town got their romantic night.

Fuckers, you thought bitterly.

But then - the weirdest fucking thing happened. Amid vomiting more buds and thorns, your chest started to feel a little clearer and you could cough the rattling wetness from your lungs. There was just slight relief, but enough for you to draw in harsh breaths. You panted and spat out another bloom, trying to ignore how oddly poetically beautiful this was - to die by a fucking flower strangling you. Your body was thinner in the weeks since your turmoil started, throat too raw to pass any food as your lungs were stuffed with petals. It made living harder.

It made getting out of bed physically impossible.

It made your feet numb.

Your chest to ache.

Your head to throb.

And your stomach to knot itself.

Sweat pooled over your brow and your hand rose to wipe at your nose, smearing blood over your cheek. More vomiting. More pain. More petals and blooms and thorns and blood.

It felt like it'd never end but that was the most justice you had - that this would kill you because you couldn't let go of the love you had for Edward Munson. Love that would last a lifetime - or until it killed you.

Seemed like a fate closer than graduation.

You were startled when knuckles began rapping on your window as another violent purge overtook you. Shaking and sobbing, you ignored whoever had climbed up to your window because you were so focused on keeping your hair back as you purged.

The rapping turned into full-on pounding; the glass pane shaking.

The blossoms were bigger now. Thicker. Small, wee little stems on them that only added to your pain. Petals were left behind on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks; throat bleeding into your stomach from the way thorns shredded it up and down.

"Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart," you recognized Eddie's voice over the sounds of your retching. "Oh, my God, my sweet girl. Shit, you're okay, you're okay, I got you," he assured quietly, taking your hair in his hands to hold back as another wave racked through your body. "You're okay, let it out," he soothed, sitting on the lip of the bathtub, and rubbing your back.

You sniffled and spat the remaining petals from your mouth, using your arms to cover the toilet bowl and block his sight. "W-What're you doing here?" You asked through a thick tongue.

"Your window was open, I let myself in." He reached out for the toilet paper and pulled a bit off, gingerly reaching up and wiping the blood from your lips. "A-Are those petals?" He asked in shock, looking at the toilet tissue.

"Why're you here, Eddie?" You asked again, turning to close the toilet lid and rest your head on it. The cool porcelain felt nice on your feverish skin.

"Where else would I want to be?"

You scoffed, "Just fuck off back to Chrissy, I know that's where you want to be."

It was quiet as sweat dried on your skin and created a new cooling sensation across your tired muscles. "Why're you throwing up blood and petals?"

"Why are you here?" You snapped, lifting your head to glare at him. "If I wanted you around, I would've called."

"Haven't called me in weeks."

"Then maybe I don't want you around. Just go - get out," you grit, turning away from him again. "This is hard enough without you fucking here. Get out."

It was quiet as Eddie didn't move, your chest rattling with every labored breath to make it sound like a wheeze. It caused a new wave of violent coughing, Eddie's eyes widening when you appeared to choke on something in your throat, toilet lid lifted as your fingers crammed in the back of your throat.

From this position, Eddie could make out the blood and blooms floating in the water, flinching when you threw up blood - a sight he'd never wanted to see again. Thorns cut your mouth and lips, making you whimper in sheer pain as your chest was ready to cave in finally. Sweat coated your skin again, and Eddie refused to leave your side. He watched you as your body shook with each retch; how the color of blood stained your lips like expensive make-up.

When you panted and threw yourself back to the wall behind you, Eddie reached out and started to wipe blood from your nose, mouth, chin, and cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

"Tell you what?" You wheezed.

"That you were sick."

You scoffed, "Would it have mattered? You're too busy with Chrissy."

He shook his head, "We broke up."

Now this - this shocked you. Your brows furrowed, "It's prom night."

"Mhm."

"All you wanted was to go to that stupid fucking dance with her," you pointed out with a glare.

Eddie nodded, "I thought so, too. Until we got there, and I realized that I was with the wrong girl... I thought I wanted to be with her, she was unobtainable and has been my crush for years..."

"Guessing the real thing didn't compare with your imagination?" You sneered, rolling your eyes. "Big fucking deal, Eddie - "

"No, no, I uh... I just, we got there, and I wanted it to be you."

Something in your chest twisted.

"That's not funny," your eyes rolled again.

"I'm not joking. I wanted to be with you all night - hell, every day of the past few weeks that you've been avoiding me, I just wanted to be with you. Why did you pull away from me? Was it that shitty to see me and Chris together?"

You admitted, "Yes."

"What?"

You chuckled dryly, "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

And there it was... "Yeah," You whispered, "love me like a best friend, right - " Only, the words were gargled as you leaned forward and puked violently.

"No, sweetheart," Eddie frowned, holding your hair again. "Shit, this isn't good, baby, we need to get you to a hospital."

"No," You groaned into the bowl.

"Please," he begged, other hand coming to soothe up and down your back. "You're in pain, and - "

"It doesn't matter, Eddie," you coughed again, sticking your tongue out to pick a few petals off. They fell to the water, a sightly morbidly beautiful image as thick blood swirled.

"It does matter! To me, it does!"

"Why!?"

"Because - Jesus Christ!" He raged, anger finally morphing over his expression. "I'm in love with you, God damn it!"

Your brows furrowed, bottom lip trembling, "W-What?"

He shook his head, "You really don't know?"

"Know WHAT?" You felt anger swell in your stomach. "That I've spent the past however many years thinking I was only good enough to be your friend, and now you're telling me you're in love with me? What? Did Chrissy stand you up? You need a rebound?"

He sighed, nudging you over an inch to slide down the wall into the space between you and the bathtub. You both stared forward, a light splattering of blood across the pale porcelain you stared at.

"I was the one who left her," he admitted with a sigh. "I just... We got to the first dance, and I just hated myself, because all I wanted - for the last few weeks, too - has been to have you in my arms, again. I've missed you more than anything."

You shook your head, "You've wanted Chrissy - "

"She was a want, doll," he whispered. "But I realized tonight that you're a need. I need you in my life, baby, please believe me. Look, I-I got caught up in the excitement of dating Chrissy, but she knew my heart wasn't 100% in it, and told me it was okay."

"Ch-Chrissy told you to leave?"

"She told me to run to you and not let go when I had you in my arms," he nodded, looking down at me now. "She knew the whole time... I couldn't stand being away from you, not talking to you, so she offered to help distract me until I bucked up the nerve."

"Nerve to what?"

"Ask you to be mine," he smiled softly. "Look, I know, I've had this thing for Chris, and when I finally had her, I just didn't know what to do. But she knew the whole time, and insisted I come find you."

"Oh," you breathed, chest tight for a new reason.

"And I realized I was at prom with the wrong woman," he nodded, gingerly reaching his hand out to stroke over mine. I sniffled and turned my hand over to lace our fingers together, leaning into his shoulder. "Not seeing you there, I felt worse than ever before. I couldn't admit I was in love with you - I was scared we'd lose this. Our friendship, we'd lose the comfort and protection."

Tears swelled in your eyes as you squeezed them shut; a few tears rolling sadly down your cheeks. "You don't mean that..."

"How can you say that?" He asked incredulously.

"Because you just feel bad," you whimpered. "It's okay, Eddie. I'm okay - you don't have to do this. It doesn't matter - "

"Anything regarding you, to me, definitely matters. Why're you so against this - against us?"

"Because it's not real," you sniffled. "You've been in love with - "

"Please, please, go ask Chrissy yourself," Eddie begged, shaking his head. "She'll tell you - go ask Dustin, Garth, Jeff - anyone, baby. Please. I'm in love with you, and I need you to believe it."

"Why now?"

"Why what?"

"Why tell me now?"

He chuckled, "Because I hoped there was enough time to get here and take the girl of my dreams to prom."

"You don't even like prom. Or any social gathering, for that matter."

He chuckled, "Yeah, very true, but you're everything to me and I know you wanted to go. Remember last year?" You sighed, soft smile stretching across your face. "You were so excited that I made you that pact that if neither of us had a date, we'd go together." You nodded against his shoulder. "And I just thought... I thought other guys wanted to take you, and you'd want to go with them more sine they could give you the full 'prom experience'. So, I panicked and focused on Chrissy..."

You sighed, "I wish you told me the truth... And that you'd have just asked me properly."

"I regret nothing more," he sighed. "Because it made you feel left out and neglected."

You nodded, "Eddie?"

"Yeah, peaches?"

The old nickname from 10th grade made heat pool in your chest, cheeks, and ears; feeling flustered as you whispered, "I'm in love with you, too."

"Yeah?" He chuckled.

"Mhm."

He sighed, "Oh, thank God."

You couldn't help but chuckle lightly, "What?"

He looked down at you with a grin, "Been waiting years to hear that."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Since I decked Carver in the face, yeah," he breathed. "Just wanted to pull you into my arms and tell you how much I loved you."

"Maybe if you did, we could've had more time together."

"We have all the time in the world now, baby," he beamed. "'Cause I'm not letting you go - hear me? You're mine, and I'm not letting go."

You smiled and leaned up so you could rest your forehead on his, "I don't want you to let go."

"I'll hold on forever, baby," he whispered. "But I have something important to ask you..."

"Hmm?"

"Think you're feeling up for a dance with me?"

You chuckled and nodded, "Uh, maybe one. Do we have to go to the school?"

"Nope, not if you don't want to."

You paused for a moment, asking shyly, "Eddie?"

"Yeah, peaches?"

"Would you go to prom with me?"

Eddie chuckled, "You're throwing up blood, baby, I think I should take you to the hospital instead. C'mon, instead of a prom dress, I'll dance with you in a hospital gown."

You couldn't help but giggle under your breath. "Come with me, I need to show you something," you sighed after, reaching forward to flush the blood and petals before standing up. With his hand in yours, you lead him from the bathroom and to your room, sitting on the bed and placing a book in his lap.

"What am I looking at?"

"Just... Read this page," you pointed to the paragraph you wanted him to read; taking the spot beside him and leaning to his shoulder again as he scanned the page quickly.

"Holy shit," he breathed at the end, looking up at you with tears in his eyes. "Doll, no, no, no. I-I did this to you?"

"I did it to myself," you whispered.

"B-But I've been in love with you, too? So, how did this happen?"

"Neither of us admitted it to ourselves. At least for me, it was until the night you told me you were thinking of asking Chrissy out."

"For me, it was until tonight," he realized with a whisper. "I-I told Chrissy I loved you, an-and it was the first time I admitted it..."

You nodded, "Yeah... So, uh... Yeah."

"Fuck," he shook his head. "I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know it hurt you this bad. Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you didn't deserve that. I'm so sorry."

"But it's over now, right?" you asked quietly.

"Yeah, baby, it's all over," he nodded, tossing the library book aside to turn and wrap you in his arms. He whined lightly and tugged so you were straddled in his lap, running a hand through your hair. "Oh, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain."

"You're here now," You whispered into his neck, fingers twirling a strand of his hair as your other hand clung to his neck. "That's all I care about."

"I'm never leaving you again," he swore, arms tight around my waist to drag me all the closer. "I'm so sorry, peaches, I-I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," you promised, sniffling after. "I could've spoken up, too, but I was ashamed. I didn't want to ruin anything between you and Chrissy."

"Promise me, you'll tell me from now on. Okay? I don't care what's happening or where you and I stand - you fucking tell me if something's going on with you, okay?"

You nodded, sniffling lightly, "Yeah, okay, baby, deal."

"Hey," he cooed, pulling me from his neck. His hand reached up to caress the side of my cheek, "I love you, pretty girl."

The smile on your lips felt silly, but you replied, "I love you, too, baby."

"Can I kiss you? Please?" He pouted, making you chuckle lightly before reaching for his cheek and bringing him in to meet your lips. He groaned in relief, hands tightly over your ribs before sliding to your back as his tongue poked against your lips, sweeping into your mouth in a slick dance. You whined lightly, Eddie making a noise of surprise as he pulled back, a string of saliva trailing between your lips.

Your brows furrowed as he reached up and picked something from his tongue; a light pink cherry blossom petal stuck between his pointer and thumb. "Oh, my God," you wheezed, leaning forward to rest against his chest and push your face into his neck. "I'm so sorry."

He chuckled and let the petal flutter to the ground, "Kinda hot."

"Eddie," you whined.

"I'm sorry, baby," he chuckled, pecking the side of my head. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, much better now, honestly. Having you here helps."

He pulled back to grin brightly at you, "Wanna go to prom then?"

You sighed lightly, gazing down at him in his suit and smiling lightly when you pressed over his red shirt. "Did you match Chrissy?"

He sighed, "She ended up choosing a green dress. Thought red was more my color," he smirked lightly. "But I can't lie, we looked like human Christmas."

You snorted in humor. "Red's definitely your color," you agreed, glancing back at your closet before back at him. "Um, wanna give me a few minutes? We can leave after?"

"Take as much time as you need, peaches," he nodded, leaning in with another smile to press his lips to your own. He chuckled a few times, pecking his lips rapidly before pulling away.

Within an hour, your hair was fixed off your neck; make-up minimal but still noticeable; and red dress shimmied up your body to then tie over your shoulders. Lacing your shoes on, you looked in the mirror before exiting your room and descending the stairs to find Eddie hunched over a counter, working in the kitchen on something.

You cleared your throat as your fingers fiddled together nervously when Eddie turned, and you swear time stopped. "Shit," he breathed, eyes weeping you up and down. "Oh, my... God."

"Yeah?" you asked, looking over the red material.

"Oh, hell yeah," he nodded, slowly approaching you. "You look beautiful, peaches, wow... Shit."

"You've said that," you teased. "Whatcha makin' over there?"

He smirked and picked up a flower from the counter, turning and taking your wrist. "My girl needs a corsage," he explained, showing off the flower he'd clipped from an old bouquet and then fashioned with a rubber band and safety pin. "There," he smiled when it was settled, "now you're ready for senior prom, huh?"

You nodded, hands placed to his chest as you smoothed out a few wrinkles, "You look unbelievably good right now."

He chuckled, "Look who's talkin'. Givin' Bo Derek a run for her money, aren't you? God damn."

You couldn't help the bright grin across your face, stepping into his embrace. "I love you," you whispered.

"I don't think I'll get tired to hearing that," he beamed, pecking your lips after. "I love you, too, baby - so much. And I'm so sorry it took me this long to admit it. You didn't deserve anything you suffered through..."

"It's done now," you nodded.

"And we're never going back," his hands rose to caress either of my cheeks. "Now - wanna go rock this prom?"

"Smoke up your van after?"

"You know it, princess," he grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips. "My lady," he smirked teasingly, offering his bent arm.

"My lord," you breathed, arm around his, and chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks months. Maybe things would be okay and they could work out, but for now, it was refreshing to live in the moment with Eddie. Your partner in crime. Your other half. Your best friend, and now your boyfriend. Someone you adored - and someone who adored you in full return.

Maybe love wasn't too bad after all - when it's not trying to suffocate you from the inside.

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andersunmenschlich · 2 years

Text

Chapter II

AT THE GALE'S MERCY

Taran of Helium did not return to his mother's guests, but awaited in his own apartments the word from Djora Kantos which he knew must come, begging him to return to the gardens. He would then refuse, haughtily. But no appeal came from Djora Kantos. At first Taran of Helium was angry, then he was hurt, and always he was puzzled. He could not understand. Occasionally he thought of the Jed of Gathol and then he would stamp his foot, for he was very angry indeed with Gatha. The presumption of the woman! She had insinuated that she read love for her in his eyes. Never had he been so insulted and humiliated. Never had he so thoroughly hated a woman. Suddenly he turned toward Uthio.

"My flying leather!" he commanded.

"But the guests!" exclaimed the slave boy. "Your mother, The Warlord, will expect you to return."

"She will be disappointed," snapped Taran of Helium.

The slave hesitated. "She does not approve of your flying alone," he reminded his master.

The young prince sprang to his feet and seized the unhappy slave by the shoulders, shaking him. "You are becoming unbearable, Uthio," he cried. "Soon there will be no alternative than to send you to the public slave-market. Then possibly you will find a mistress to your liking."

Tears came to the soft eyes of the slave boy. "It is because I love you, my prince," he said softly. Taran of Helium melted. He took the slave in his arms and kissed him.

"I have the disposition of a thoat, Uthio," he said. "Forgive me! I love you and there is nothing that I would not do for you and nothing would I do to harm you. Again, as I have so often in the past, I offer you your freedom."

"I do not wish my freedom if it will separate me from you, Taran of Helium," replied Uthio. "I am happy here with you—I think that I should die without you."

Again the boys kissed. "And you will not fly alone, then?" questioned the slave.

Taran of Helium laughed and pinched his companion. "You persistent little pest," he cried. "Of course I shall fly—does not Taran of Helium always do that which pleases him?"

Uthio shook his head sorrowfully. "Alas! he does," he admitted. "Iron is the Warlord of Barsoom to the influences of all but two. In the hands of Dejan Thoris and Taran of Helium she is as potters' clay."

"Then run and fetch my flying leather like the sweet slave you are," directed the master.

————

Far out across the ochre sea-bottoms beyond the twin cities of Helium raced the swift flier of Taran of Helium. Thrilling to the speed and the buoyancy and the obedience of the little craft the boy drove toward the northwest. Why he should choose that direction he did not pause to consider. Perhaps because in that direction lay the least known areas of Barsoom, and, ergo, Romance, Mystery, and Adventure. In that direction also lay far Gathol; but to that fact he gave no conscious thought.

He did, however, think occasionally of the jed of that distant kingdom, but the reaction to these thoughts was scarcely pleasurable. They still brought a flush of shame to his cheeks and a surge of angry blood to his heart. He was very angry with the Jed of Gathol, and though he should never see her again he was quite sure that hate of her would remain fresh in his memory forever. Mostly his thoughts revolved about another—Djora Kantos. And when he thought of her he thought also of Olvian Marthis of Hastor. Taran of Helium thought that he was jealous of the fair Olvian and it made him very angry to think that. He was angry with Djora Kantos and himself, but he was not angry at all with Olvian Marthis, whom he loved, and so of course he was not jealous really. The trouble was, that Taran of Helium had failed for once to have his own way. Djora Kantos had not come running like a willing slave when he had expected her, and, ah, here was the nub of the whole thing! Gatha, Jed of Gathol, a stranger, had been a witness to his humiliation. She had seen him unclaimed at the beginning of a great function and she had had to come to his rescue to save him, as she doubtless thought, from the inglorious fate of a wall-flower. At the recurring thought, Taran of Helium could feel his whole body burning with scarlet shame and then he went suddenly white and cold with rage; whereupon he turned his flier about so abruptly that he was all but torn from his lashings upon the flat, narrow deck. He reached home just before dark. The guests had departed. Quiet had descended upon the palace. An hour later he joined his mother and father at the evening meal.

"You deserted us, Taran of Helium," said Jane Carter. "It is not what the guests of Jane Carter should expect."

"They did not come to see me," replied Taran of Helium. "I did not ask them."

"They were no less your guests," replied his mother.

The boy rose, and came and stood beside her and put his arms about her neck.

"My proper old Virginian," he cried, rumpling her shock of black hair.

"In Virginia you would be turned over your mother's knee and spanked," said the woman, smiling.

He crept into her lap and kissed her. "You do not love me any more," he announced. "No one loves me," but he could not compose his features into a pout because bubbling laughter insisted upon breaking through.

"The trouble is there are too many who love you," she said. "And now there is another."

"Indeed!" he cried. "What do you mean?"

"Gatha of Gathol has asked permission to woo you."

The boy sat up very straight and tilted his chin in the air. "I would not wed with a walking diamond-mine," he said. "I will not have her."

"I told her as much," replied his mother, "and that you were as good as betrothed to another. She was very courteous about it; but at the same time she gave me to understand that she was accustomed to getting what she wanted and that she wanted you very much. I suppose it will mean another war. Your father's beauty kept Helium at war for many years, and—well, Taran of Helium, if I were a young woman I should doubtless be willing to set all Barsoom afire to win you, as I still would to keep your divine father," and she smiled across the sorapus table and its golden service at the undimmed beauty of Mars' most beautiful man.

"Our little boy should not yet be troubled with such matters," said Dejan Thoris. "Remember, Jane Carter, that you are not dealing with an Earth child, whose span of life would be more than half completed before a son of Barsoom reached actual maturity."

"But do not the sons of Barsoom sometimes marry as early as twenty?" she insisted.

"Yes, but they will still be desirable in the eyes of women after forty generations of Earth folk have returned to dust—there is no hurry, at least, upon Barsoom. We do not fade and decay here as you tell me those of your planet do, though you, yourself, belie your own words. When the time seems proper Taran of Helium shall wed with Djora Kantos, and until then let us give the matter no further thought."

"No," said the boy, "the subject irks me, and I shall not marry Djora Kantos, or another—I do not intend to wed."

His mother and father looked at him and smiled. "When Gatha of Gathol returns she may carry you off," said the former.

"She has gone?" asked the boy.

"Her flier departs for Gathol in the morning," Jane Carter replied.

"I have seen the last of her then," remarked Taran of Helium with a sigh of relief.

"She says not," returned Jane Carter.

The boy dismissed the subject with a shrug and the conversation passed to other topics. A letter had arrived from Thuvio of Ptarth, who was visiting at his mother's court while Carthoris, his mate, hunted in Okar. Word had been received that the Tharks and Warhoons were again at war, or rather that there had been an engagement, for war was their habitual state. In the memory of woman there had been no peace between these two savage green hordes—only a single temporary truce. Two new battleships had been launched at Hastor. A little band of holy therns was attempting to revive the ancient and discredited religion of Issus, who they claimed still lived in spirit and had communicated with them. There were rumors of war from Dusar. A scientist claimed to have discovered human life on the further moon. A maniac had attempted to destroy the atmosphere plant. Seven people had been assassinated in Greater Helium during the last ten zodes (the equivalent of an Earth day).

Following the meal Dejan Thoris and The Warlord played at jetan, the Barsoomian game of chess, which is played upon a board of a hundred alternate black and orange squares. One player has twenty black pieces, the other, twenty orange pieces. A brief description of the game may interest those Earth readers who care for chess, and will not be lost upon those who pursue this narrative to its conclusion, since before they are done they will find that a knowledge of jetan will add to the interest and the thrills that are in store for them.

The women are placed upon the board as in chess upon the first two rows next the players. In order from left to right on the line of squares nearest the players, the jetan pieces are Warrior, Padwar, Dwar, Flier, Chief, Prince, Flier, Dwar, Padwar, Warrior. In the next line all are Panthans except the end pieces, which are called Thoats, and represent mounted warriors.

The Panthans, which are represented as warriors with one feather, may move one space in any direction except backward; the Thoats, mounted warriors with three feathers, may move one straight and one diagonal, and may jump intervening pieces; Warriors, foot soldiers with two feathers, straight in any direction, or diagonally, two spaces; Padwars, lieutenants wearing two feathers, two diagonal in any direction, or combination; Dwars, captains wearing three feathers, three spaces straight in any direction, or combination; Fliers, represented by a propeller with three blades, three spaces in any direction, or combination, diagonally, and may jump intervening pieces; the Chief, indicated by a diadem with ten jewels, three spaces in any direction, straight, or diagonal; Prince, diadem with a single jewel, same as Chief, and can jump intervening pieces.

The game is won when a player places any of her pieces on the same square with her opponent's Prince, or when a Chief takes a Chief. It is drawn when a Chief is taken by any opposing piece other than the opposing Chief; or when both sides have been reduced to three pieces, or less, of equal value, and the game is not terminated in the following ten moves, five apiece. This is but a general outline of the game, briefly stated.

It was this game that Dejan Thoris and Jane Carter were playing when Taran of Helium bid them good night, retiring to his own quarters and his sleeping silks and furs. "Until morning, my beloved," he called back to them as he passed from the apartment, nor little he guess, nor his parents, that this might indeed be the last time that they would ever set eyes upon him.

The morning broke dull and gray. Ominous clouds billowed restlessly and low. Beneath them torn fragments scudded toward the northwest. From his window Taran of Helium looked out upon this unusual scene. Dense clouds seldom overcast the Barsoomian sky. At this hour of the day it was his custom to ride one of those small thoats that are the saddle animals of the red Martians, but the sight of the billowing clouds lured him to a new adventure. Uthio still slept and the boy did not disturb him. Instead, he dressed quietly and went to the hangar upon the roof of the palace directly above his quarters where his own swift flier was housed. He had never driven through the clouds. It was an adventure that he had always longed to experience.

The wind was strong and it was with difficulty that he maneuvered the craft from the hangar without accident, but once away it raced swiftly out above the twin cities. The buffeting winds caught and tossed it, and the boy laughed aloud in sheer joy of the resultant thrills. He handled the little ship like a veteran, though few veterans would have faced the menace of such a storm in so light a craft. Swiftly he rose toward the clouds, racing with the scudding streamers of the storm-swept fragments, and a moment later he was swallowed by the dense masses billowing above. Here was a new world, a world of chaos unpeopled except for himself; but it was a cold, damp, lonely world and he found it depressing after the novelty of it had been dissipated, by an overpowering sense of the magnitude of the forces surging about him. Suddenly he felt very lonely and very cold and very little. Hurriedly, therefore, he rose until presently his craft broke through into the glorious sunlight that transformed the upper surface of the somber element into rolling masses of burnished silver. Here it was still cold, but without the dampness of the clouds, and in the eye of the brilliant sun his spirits rose with the mounting needle of his altimeter. Gazing at the clouds, now far beneath, the boy experienced the sensation of hanging stationary in mid-heaven; but the whirring of his propeller, the wind beating upon him, the high figures that rose and fell beneath the glass of his speedometer, these told him that his speed was terrific. It was then that he determined to turn back.

The first attempt he made above the clouds, but it was unsuccessful. To his surprise he discovered that he could not even turn against the high wind, which rocked and buffeted the frail craft.

Then he dropped swiftly to the dark and wind-swept zone between the hurtling clouds and the gloomy surface of the shadowed ground. Here he tried again to force the nose of the flier back toward Helium, but the tempest seized the frail thing and hurled it remorselessly about, rolling it over and over and tossing it as it were a cork in a cataract. At last the boy succeeded in righting the flier, perilously close to the ground. Never before had he been so close to death, yet he was not terrified. His coolness had saved him, that and the strength of the deck lashings that held him. Traveling with the storm he was safe, but where was it bearing him? He pictured the apprehension of his mother and father when he failed to appear at the morning meal. They would find his flier missing and they would guess that somewhere in the path of the storm it lay a wrecked and tangled mass upon his dead body, and then brave women would go out in search of him, risking their lives; and that lives would be lost in the search, he knew, for he realized now that never in his life-time had such a tempest raged upon Barsoom.

He must turn back! He must reach Helium before his mad lust for thrills had cost the sacrifice of a single courageous life! He determined that greater safety and likelihood of success lay above the clouds, and once again he rose through the chilling, wind-tossed vapor. His speed again was terrific, for the wind seemed to have increased rather than to have lessened. He sought gradually to check the swift flight of his craft, but though he finally succeeded in reversing his motor the wind but carried him on as it would. Then it was that Taran of Helium lost his temper. Had his world not always bowed in acquiescence to his every wish? What were these elements that they dared to thwart him? He would demonstrate to them that the son of The Warlord was not to be denied! They would learn that Taran of Helium might not be ruled even by the forces of nature!

And so he drove his motor forward again and then with his firm white teeth set in grim determination he drove the steering lever far down to port with the intention of forcing the nose of his craft straight into the teeth of the wind, and the wind seized the frail thing and toppled it over upon its back, and twisted and turned it and hurled it over and over; the propeller raced for an instant in an air pocket and then the tempest seized it again and twisted it from its shaft, leaving the boy helpless upon an unmanageable atom that rose and fell, and rolled and tumbled—the sport of the elements he had defied. Taran of Helium's first sensation was one of surprise—that he had failed to have his own way. Then he commenced to feel concern—not for his own safety but for the anxiety of his parents and the dangers that the inevitable searchers must face. He reproached himself for the thoughtless selfishness that had jeopardized the peace and safety of others. He realized his own grave danger, too; but he was still unterrified, as befitted the son of Dejan Thoris and Jane Carter. He knew that his buoyancy tanks might keep him afloat indefinitely, but he had neither food nor water, and he was being borne toward the least-known area of Barsoom. Perhaps it would be better to land immediately and await the coming of the searchers, rather than to allow himself to be carried still further from Helium, thus greatly reducing the chances of early discovery; but when he dropped toward the ground he discovered that the violence of the wind rendered an attempt to land tantamount to destruction and he rose again, rapidly.

Carried along a few hundred feet above the ground he was better able to appreciate the Titanic proportions of the storm than when he had flown in the comparative serenity of the zone above the clouds, for now he could distinctly see the effect of the wind upon the surface of Barsoom. The air was filled with dust and flying bits of vegetation and when the storm carried him across an irrigated area of farm land he saw great trees and stone walls and buildings lifted high in the air and scattered broadcast over the devastated country; and then he was carried swiftly on to other sights that forced in upon his consciousness a rapidly growing conviction that after all Taran of Helium was a very small and insignificant and helpless person. It was quite a shock to his self-pride while it lasted, and toward evening he was ready to believe that it was going to last forever. There had been no abatement in the ferocity of the tempest, nor was there indication of any. He could only guess at the distance he had been carried for he could not believe in the correctness of the high figures that had been piled upon the record of his odometer. They seemed unbelievable and yet, had he known it, they were quite true—in twelve hours he had flown and been carried by the storm full seven thousand haads. Just before dark he was carried over one of the deserted cities of ancient Mars. It was Torquas, but he did not know it. Had he, he might readily have been forgiven for abandoning the last vestige of hope, for to the people of Helium Torquas seems as remote as do the South Sea Islands to us. ["Us" being people who live in Virginia, obviously. What a small view of the world Burroughs had.] And still the tempest, its fury unabated, bore him on.

All that night he hurtled through the dark beneath the clouds, or rose to race through the moonlit void beneath the glory of Barsoom's two satellites. He was cold and hungry and altogether miserable, but his brave little spirit refused to admit that his plight was hopeless even though reason proclaimed the truth. His reply to reason, sometime spoken aloud in sudden defiance, recalled the Spartan stubbornness of his dam in the face of certain annihilation: "I still live!"

That morning there had been an early visitor at the palace of The Warlord. It was Gatha, Jed of Gathol. She had arrived shortly after the absence of Taran of Helium had been noted, and in the excitement she had remained unannounced until Jane Carter had happened upon her in the great reception corridor of the palace as The Warlord was hurrying out to arrange for the dispatch of ships in search of her son.

Gatha read the concern upon the face of The Warlord. "Forgive me if I intrude, Jane Carter," she said. "I but came to ask the indulgence of another day since it would be fool-hardy to attempt to navigate a ship in such a storm."

"Remain, Gatha, a welcome guest until you choose to leave us," replied The Warlord; "but you must forgive any seeming inattention upon the part of Helium until my son is restored to us."

"Your son! Restored! What do you mean?" exclaimed the Gatholian. "I do not understand."

"He is gone, together with his light flier. That is all we know. We can only assume that he decided to fly before the morning meal and was caught in the clutches of the tempest. You will pardon me, Gatha, if I leave you abruptly—I am arranging to send ships in search of him;" but Gatha, Jed of Gathol, was already speeding in the direction of the palace gate. There she leaped upon a waiting thoat and followed by two warriors in the metal of Gathol, she dashed through the avenues of Helium toward the palace that had been set aside for her entertainment.

#Taran of Helium #public domain #genderswap #self-indulgence #Barsoom #The Chessmen of Mars #book 5 #chapter 2 #The sexism is ridiculously apparent in these.#I don't know how I managed to miss it in my teens.#I guess I was just too swept up in the idea of being big and tough and swinging a sword around. On Mars. With amazing jumping abilities.#...Yeah #that'll be it.#Not to mention the slavery! So much slavery!#I missed the horror of THAT on account of having been raised with the Bible.

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fazgoo-connoiseur-1987 · 8 months

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@melanodis got me thinking about the untapped potential of Dave "Totally Not William Afton" Miller and Henry "In Desperate Need of a Rebound" Emily

#jerry is trying his best to help but hes missing crutial lore #fazgoodles #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf 2 #this is cerca 1987 #jeremy fitzgerald #dave miller #william afton #henry emily #helium #teh romcom that never was....#aka that one time will almost blew his cover cus of henry's immaculate rizz #dave miller's really very inconspicuous sunglasses #hes doing an awful fake american accent btw #I SPELT A WORD WRONG

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orphicdreamers-wp · 5 months

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25 To Life — Nico Hischier

Summary: In which it’s Nico’s first birthday since you became a couple.

Content Warning; Fluff, age gap(reader is 23, Nico is 25)

Pairing: Gf Reader & Nico Hischier

You had managed to convince your boyfriend to go out with Jack today, pretending you forgot about it being his birthday. Jack kept him busy long enough for you and your best friend to set up Nico’s apartment for his birthday celebration the two of you were going to have that night. Nico had decided months earlier that he didn’t want to do a party or anything outrageous. He suggested a simple dinner and a movie night with you.

So you obliged, sort of. It was the wedding planner in you that was itching to decorate, also the new girlfriend in you. So you ordered twenty-five red helium heart shaped balloons, twenty-five white helium heart shaped balloons and twenty-five silver heart shaped balloons. You bought all the ingredients to make a three layer strawberry birthday cake. You decided to keep the heart theme going and cut the cake into a heart shape. You ended up with the most beautiful cake you iced in white buttercream icing and drew small red hearts all over it in red buttercream and wrote happy birthday across the top of the cake.

You made the dinner you had made Nico for your third date, pot roast with vegetables you had grown in your garden. You had told your best friend to go as Nico had texted you that he was on his way home. You had just finished hanging the happy birthday banner when the door opened and Nico entered his apartment. He smiled at you as you grinned, “Happy birthday baby.” Nico pulled you into his lap as he sat down on the couch, “Thank you for being you. I love this.” You smiled up at him, “It’s not too much? I didn’t want you to think I’m obsessed with your birthday. If it’s too much I can get rid of the balloons and stuff.” Nico pressed a kiss against your lips to shut you up, “Shut up and let me kiss you. It is my birthday after all.”

You huffed out lightly as Nico continued to kiss you. You pulled away to catch your breath, “Happy 25th Birthday old man.” Nico laughed, “I can’t wait to call you an old lady on your 25th.” You stuck your tongue out at him as you went to check on the food. You almost missed his last remark, “And forever.” You froze, “What?” Nico’s face paled only to beat red as you grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck, “You wanna be with me forever! Aww you big baby.” Nico grinned, “I would spend the rest of my life with you starting tomorrow. As long as you can still make a good pot roast.” You smacked him with the throw pillow beside him, “I love you. Happy birthday.”

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier #nico hischer #nj devils #new jersey devils #25th bday

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katiefrog217 · 20 days

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Ineffable May 2024 Day 1: [Before the Beginning]

Aziraphale was quite content. It had happened, he thought to himself, quite by chance that he'd been passing by this corner of space, on the way to his next job. It was chance he was flying by when the Starmaker called out to him, in need of assistance. He thought that it was going to be a quick little thing: he'd stop, help out, then be on his merry way. Just as all things had gone. And yet, as he watched the Starmaker talk animatedly about his work, his hands flailing excitedly as he explained the certain concepts of physics and light that the Principality had yet to be introduced to, he found himself hesitating. He wished to stay with this joyful angel, to stay beneath the outstretched wing he had offered to him when the debris fell upon him. The Starmaker seemed to forget to retrieve his wing, even now, though the shower had long passed and Aziraphale found himself in no hurry to remind him. "It's fascinating, isn't it?" The Starmaker said, shooting him a smile. Aziraphale blinked - he had been so caught up in his own thoughts while watching the angel's shifting expressions that he'd completely missed what he'd said. "Quite right," he agreed anyway with a small smile and nod of his head. The Starmaker didn't seem to notice his momentary lapse in attention, and beamed at him. Aziraphale thought he shown as bright as the stars he seemed to adore so much. He felt a new sensation swelling in his chest as his companion launched into a new topic - something about elements? Helium? - and wondered if he should be concerned. He dismissed the though moments later, reasoning to himself that it didn't hurt, it just felt... warm. He was happy. Therefore, it was not an issue if he ignored it for now. He nodded agreeably when the Starmaker addressed him again, and asked a well selected question to keep the angel on his tangent. No one would miss him if he stayed a bit longer, he thought.

@blairamok is hosting a Good Omens prompt event this year and I MIGHT have panicked and spent the last 7 ish hours on this haha. I'm still not 100% confident with how I translate the Ineffable Husbands to my style, but I quite like how this turned out, and I hope ya'll do too! :)))

I haven't slept in 24 hours and I haven't done prompt based things before so I hope this turned out alright I don't even trust my own brain rn

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

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BRO I'VE BEEN HOLDING BACK CAUSE I THOUGHT YOU'D ALREADY HAVE TOO MANP CAP. MACTAVISH REQUESTS I-

I'm here to rectify this issue immediately, how about one with him and the reader being soft? something bout seeing this rugged man melt when he comes home to his darling just egIUAfosnkew IT'S SO SWEET

—Look At The Stars; Look At Me

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

You breathe slowly, eyes gazing longingly far above you at the twinkling lights. They take up your pupils in the low glow of the moon—the dots of those far-off globes of hydrogen and helium shining bright.

The glade behind the hidden forest home is filled with the scent of wildflowers, grass, and the grind of fresh earth; it captures your nostrils as the fireflies come out to dance on iridescent wings. Under you, John’s blanket lets you be just the tiniest bit closer to him for the moment, limbs loose, sleep-clothes compliant to the flow of the breeze as it spreads a whisper through the leaves.

A deer snorts downwind, a low call over the air that can be felt in the gentle quiet. Crickets creak like the old floorboards of a lived-in home. You’re eased by the knowledge that, as your Lover drives back to this place—back to you—he’s under the same stars as the ones you gawk at in the skin of an awe-drunk woman who loves him more than even this.

A car pulls down the worn-grass road, and you hear the brakes lightly squeak on that shitty rental, a smile twitches along your face, but you don’t move.

He knows where to find you this late; knows you wouldn’t go to sleep when he’d called you not two hours earlier to say he’s back.

The both of you are stubborn and know the other more than a priest knows his own God.

A soft whistle lets you know he’ll be there in a moment, coming from behind the treeline before the sound of a car door getting closed echoes. The birds pause for a moment, though not seconds later they re-start their bedtime symphonies.

There’s a rustling, and your heart picks up the pace gradually, excitement making your lips peel slowly back into a wide smile as you gaze at the Herdsman and his glittering Arcturus star. Painting pictures in your mind, you think of the untold number of things he’s seen from his deep-space throne as your lover returns like a lumbering hound, already hearing his large sigh at the sight of you.

You don’t shift your gaze until an accented comment makes you chuckle.

“Bit of a cold night to be doin’ this,” John’s face peaks into your field of view, leaning above you with his arms crossed—one of those dark brows raised.

He looks worse for wear with a big bruise over the left side of his jaw, and medical tape on his dark eyebrow ridge. The scar is still there, over his left eye; his orbs that continue to glint more than the stars ever could in your gaze.

You hum in your throat, blinking up at him with a tilted nose.

“What?” Your voice makes the hardness of his face dim, a small sigh through his nostrils as if he could never truly get out of that version of himself without hearing you speak first. “Did you expect me to miss a view like this?”

He scoffs, tilting his head. “I’m not that much of an idiot. Move it.”

You smile widely, staying directly in the middle of his blanket as a smirk slashes the Captain’s lips, his blues deepening. A bird darts away from above his head.

“Already misbehaving, then? Not a good start, Little Lady.”

“I was here first, MacTavish.” He makes an amused noise in his throat, moving his hands from his arms to grasp under yours. You squeal, laughing loudly as he drags you up with a low chuckle into his large shirt and tucked pants.

“Aye, you were here first,” he brings you up into his arms—a bridal hold that leads you to wrap your arms around his neck as you shake with glee, burying your head into his flesh. “Never said you weren’t.” Lips whisper into your ear and he can feel your smile as it spreads against him. “But you’ve got to pick your battles wisely, eh? I’m the one who can carry you on my arm.”

You kiss his neck a few times, quick kisses in between mutterings of love; his beard shifts as he lets a small smile, amusement lingering yet dimming for something far more important. The word seems more alive than it had moments ago, but that’s not a bad thing. No, not at all.

“What’s the point of interest tonight, then?” He slips off his boots and walks you back onto the blanket, smoothing it out with his foot before he grunts and settles down—you in his lap. “I’ve lost where we were last time.”

“The Herdsman, John,” you remind gently, pushing on his chest so he lays back with no argument, shifting you into the crook of his right arm as it circles you. He gently squeezes and presses you tighter.

On his chest you place your head, arm snaking around his waist to suck in his warmth with a soft sigh.

“Ah, that’s right. Herdsman.”

He kisses your forehead, digging his nose into you and closing his eyes softly. None of the stars could compare to the one in his arms—he’ll leave the gazing to you in the meantime.

Your body in the gap between his arm was all he needed.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #captain mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #captain john mactavish #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #x fem!reader #john mactavish

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outsideratheart · 10 months

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Helium (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: This is chapter 6 of The Legacy Series.

You laid on your sofa debating whether or not to call Alexia. This seemed to be happening a lot recently but given that you had been out for breakfast together you wasn’t sure if she would want to see you again.

Things had been going really well between the two of you, both on and off the pitch. On the pitch you had officially found your groove having scored 11 goals in the last 7 games. Off the pitch you find yourself in an unfamiliar state of happiness. Days off were never spent alone and you no longer made table reservations for one as Alexia joined you in your goal of eating at every restaurant and drinking at every coffee shop in Barcelona.

Your thumb hovers over Alexia’s contact before hitting the call button. It rings 4 times before you get her voicemail. You see this as a sign that you should get an early night so you do just that. Besides, you have training in the morning so you only have to wait a few more hours until you can see her again.

Only the next morning you arrive at Joan Camper and a certain midfielder is missing.

“Oh Y/N” Mapi grabs your hand pulling you towards her table in the canteen “You know why Alexia is late don’t you? The two of you are always together so she will have told you something”

You could think of many words to describe Alexia but late is not one of them, especially not when it came to training. This was reason enough for concern but you didn’t want to worry the rest of the team so you chose to lie.

“She had a photoshoot this morning but don’t worry she’ll be here in time for us to destroy her at the fitness test” you hoped your joke would help cover the lie and to your relief it was.

Alexia did turn up to the facility albeit it 2 1/2 hours after training had started. The rest of the team didn’t think twice about it given you told them she was going to be late but you on the other hand wanted to know why she was late.

The two of you partner up for the next drill and it gives you the opportunity to question her away from the other girls.

“Is everything ok?” You ask her.

“Thank you for covering for me this morning. It won’t happen again” she dodges the question and you recognise the avoidance technique all to well.

“Ale” you grab her hand and pull her to the side of the pitch.

“What are you doing? We are in the middle of training” Alexia looks around and sees that you have caught the attention of a few staff members.

“And we will go back to that in a minute. Talk to me? Has something happened?”

“I’m fine. I overslept”

“That’s a lie” you call her out without hesitation.

“It is” Alexia mumbles as runs back onto the pitch where the rest of the team are waiting for you.

For the rest of the session it felt like Alexia was avoiding you and only you. Every so often you would catch her eye, she would hold the gaze for a couple of seconds, flash a quick smile and then turn away. At least you knew she wasn’t ignoring you.

Alexia’s behaviour continued for the next couple of days and every time you asked her about it she found a way to change the subject. You started to worry but after talking to Mapi & Jenni you learnt that sometimes Alexia does this. She goes quiet and pulls away but it doesn’t last longer than a week.

“Alexia please wha—“

You don’t get the chance to ask her what is wrong yet again because you are interrupted although this time it isn’t by the Spaniard it is by Lieke.

“Y/N your mum keeps calling me because you won’t take her calls. Care to explain?”

This gets Alexia’s attention. Over the time she has known you she has learnt that you are very close with you mum so that fact you are ignoring her calls is a concern.

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it” you try to keep your response as short as possible.

“Is it about the thing?” Lieke speaks in code given that you are not alone.

“She just wants to check in and make sure I’m behaving here in Barcelona. You know how she gets” you joke.

“You’re lying” Alexia know you well enough to know when you aren’t telling the truth.

You found it ironic. Here Alexia stands calling you a liar when she has been lying about what’s been going on with her for the last week.

“It’s what we do, no?” You want to get a reaction out of her. You want her to admit she that has been keeping something from you but she doesn’t. Instead she mumbles something incoherent before walking away.

“She wasn’t calling to check up on you Y/N. She wants to go if you plan on going back to Amsterdam for the event” Lieke didn’t speak up when Alexia was around but she did want to talk to you about it now.

“I’m not going. I’ve told her this multiple times but she keeps pushing. I’ll tell her to stop calling you”

“I’d go with you. I know its been a few years but I had fun when you took me to the last one”

“I’m not going Lieke and you know why”

You went home that night in a much worse mood than you wanted to. Something was wrong with Alexia and you just wanted to help her but she was determined to shut you out. Then there was your mother who took the word persistent to a whole new level.

The team had the next 4 days off, now normally you would have made plans with Alexia but you hadn’t had the chance so you try to call her to see if she was up for doing something only her phone goes straight to voicemail. One ring and she declined the call, it stung.

The next morning you text her to tell her you’re free if she wanted to do something. By doing this the ball was in her court, all you could do is wait and hope that she replies. Hours pass by before you admit that Alexia isn’t going to call but you’re not willing to waste the day at home so you decide to go to the training ground. You had a lot on mind over the past couple of days but your mind was calm whenever you were on the pitch.

You’re not sure how much time has passed but you know it must have been a few hours because the groundsman turns the flood lights on. When you arrived he told you that you could stay as long as you want, the man was a saint and often helped you sneak into the grounds when you weren’t suppose to be there.

Out the corner of your eyes you see two people and you can tell they are female by their silhouettes. You are in two minds as what to do; go to them and possibly get in trouble or pretend you didn’t see them and hope they go away. When you see them walking over you prepare for the worse but as they get close you recognise them.

“Y/N” Eli says as she gets closer.

The sight of the two Putellas women causes a pit to form in your gut. Alba stands quietly to the side of her, her eyes red from recent tears.

“Hi. Is everything ok?” You ask fearful of an honest answer.

“Have you seen Alexia? We have been trying to get in touch with her all day. She always comes here when she needs an escape”

Why would Alexia need an escape? Could this have something to do with her recent behaviour?

“I haven’t. I tried calling her last night and texted her this morning to see if she wanted to something today but she didn’t answer. Eli, is Alexia ok?”

“We don’t know” this is first time Alba looks directly at you and the heartbroken expression is enough for you to reach out for her.

“Are you ok Alba?” Your hand rests on her shoulder in hopes it would bring some kind of comfort. You hadn’t spoken to her since that day at the stadium but she was Alexia’s sister which means you cared for her.

“I need to find my sister. Will you help?”

“Of course. How about you go back to her apartment to see if she has come home and I will see if I can find her, I can think of a few places”

“Gracias Y/N” Eli says.

This sounded a lot worse that you original feared. At first you thought you had done something to Alexia or that she wanted space like you did a couple of months ago. Now you knew this wasn’t the case and it in fact had nothing to do with you.

As you drove home your eyes scanned the streets hoping and praying by some miracle that you find her but it was wishful thinking. You enter the code to the gate and what you are met with isn’t something you expected. Alexia is sat on your door step, her knees tucked into her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked so small.

“Alexia, what are you doing here? You mother and sister are worried about you” you scold her but instantly regret it when she looks up and you see her face. Tears were falling down her face and given the puffiness of her eyes they had been for quite a while.

“Come here” you hold your hands out and pull alexia into your arms. Her body shakes as she seemingly lets go of the emotions that she has been bottling up for god knows how long. “I’ve got you”

In order to open the front door you have to let her go but you keep a hold of her hand. Once inside Alexia is back in your arms. You care deeply for this woman but only in this moment did you realise just how much. Seeing Alexia this broken breaks your heart.

“I’m sorry” Alexia pulls away and tries to wipe away her tears only for you to stop her. She didn’t need to hide her pain, not around you.

“There’s nothing to apologise for Ale. Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just want to know what I can do to help”

“You’re already doing it” the smile that appears on her face is weak but nevertheless it is a smile.

With her hand in yours you lead her to the sofa and wait for to be ready to talk about whatever it is that has her so upset.

“It’s the 10th anniversary of my dad’s death”

“Oh Alexia” you rubbed her thigh soothingly.

“I didn’t want to come to you because I knew that it would bring up feelings for you too, how could it not. I know I’ve been cold towards you but I knew you’d recognise my pain and I wanted to try and get through the week. I just wanted to be alone, I always do”

It’s moment like this that you realise just how similar you and Alexia are. You both had the same coping mechanisms for your grief, as unhealthy as they might be.

“Yet here you are, with me, in my house, after sitting on my doorstep waiting for me to get home”

Alexia cannot help but laugh. Her actions and her thoughts did not align in the slightest. Deep down she knew why she came to you, today but she wasn’t ready to admit what it meant.

“I just needed to escape”

It’s as if a light bulb goes off and you cannot believe what you are about to suggest.

“How much of an escape?” You ask her.

“This city is too much right now so I’ll go anywhere, why? What do you have in mind?”

“Something I hope not to regret”

You could feel Alexia’s breath on your shoulder as she watches you open your contacts on your phone. She doesn’t see who it is you call but the opening sentence of what you say next gives her the answer.

“Hallo mama. Ja ik kom. Ik heb twee kaartjes nodig.”

The call is short and sweet for two reasons. One, you wanted to give Alexia your full attention and two, you didn’t want to answer you mother’s endless amount of questions.

“C’mon, I’ll help you pack”

“Y/N wait” Alexia runs after you as you make your way to the front door “Where are we going?”

This is why Alexia came to you. You knew what to do to help her when she didn’t know what to do herself.

“I’m taking you home”

“No, I’m not ready for that yet” Alexia’s grabs your hand and pulls you back into the house.

“Not your home Alexia, mine. You showed me Barcelona through your eyes and now you get to see Amsterdam through mine”

This time Alexia’s smile is wide. You were taking her to Amsterdam, the place that you told her so many stories about.

Only 24 hours ago you were adamant that you wouldn’t be attending the annual Johan Cruyff foundation gala yet here you are on your way to Alexia’s apartment so you can help her pack. You may not want to go but you knew this is exactly what Alexia needed.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni one shot #barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #espwnt one shot

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eichornia · 4 months

Text

So I had a thought:

- It's 2024. Daniel is back in the grid, his hand is completely healed, his curls are thriving. He feels confident again and he's happy. He's in a low dose of antidepressants and the therapy does wonders. 2022 seems really far away.

- He's starting the season in a good mood, flirting his way through the paddock, joking with the Netflix boys. It's Thursday and they're in Australia. Australia, baby, his favourite place in the world. His family is coming to see him race, Isaac being old enough to really enjoy being in the garage. He's curious and funny and Daniel misses him a lot when he's away. He loves Isabella too, she's his princess. But she's not really interested in the sport (yet) and she's in a hardcore Bluey phase. So Isaac asks him if he can go with him to the garage and when they're there, he asks if they can go visit the Red Bull garage because he's obsessed with the RB and to be honest, with Max too. Just like his uncle, Blake likes to say. Usually that makes Daniel to show his karate moves but not for long because Blake is a scary motherfucker sometimes even if he hides it well.

- So to the RB garage they go. They chat with Christian for a bit (Do you want to run for us when you're big, Isaac?, he asks) (And Isaac says yes, yes, yes) and they dodge Helmut when he appears in the garage because he's scary and not in a nice way. (Isaac says he smells like moths and Daniel has to fight really hard not to laugh) and then they spot Max. He's talking with GP but when he sees them, he waves smiling and he talks with Isaac like he's an adult (and even invites him to look into the car and explains to him everything, twice when Isaac asks again about some things).

- And yeah, Daniel has feelings. Like, he knows he had feelings for Max since... Well, a long time ago. He knows but he was scared of being bisexual (thanks Josh Allen for fixing that) and older than Max, and he was scared of being reciprocal because yeah, like Max was his teammate? His hot, younger, faster teammate.

- But now Daniel is (even) older and has learnt to not give a fuck about what people thinks. And yeah, watching Max with his niece? It's doing things to Daniel's heart.

- So yeah, Australia is awesome, racing in Australia is even better, getting points in Australia is a dream come true after these past years. He's high on endorphins and that's his excuse to intercept Max when he's on his way to his driver room after the podium. (Hey, hi, Maxy, Maximus, I was thinking, like, congrats in the podium, by the way, good trophy and all that, but I was thinking of asking you if you wanted to come to Perth?)

- The craziest thing to happen is that Max says yes. No doubts at all, just his big smile that makes his eyes go small and a 'yes, Daniel'.

- PERTH. It goes like this: Max comes to the farm, falls in love with Daniel's house, Daniel's falls in love a bit more with him. And Max knows nothing about it because Daniel is a bit immature but he's not stupid (not about this anyway) and Max is one of his best friends and he doesn't want to ruin their friendship.

- So he says nothing and he enjoys having this week with Max in his home. They race dirt bikes, they cook together (well, they try) and they play with Isaac and Isabella when they come to visit. And then it's Sunday, a whole week has passed and they're going to fly together soon to Japan. They're enjoying the hot tub after having a nice dinner and Max is laughing at Daniel's impression of Toto and Daniel feels like his chest is filled with helium, feels high, lucky, funny. And that's his excuse to kiss Max.

- Max doesn't stop laughing for a second even in the middle of the kiss and then he stops moving and breathing and Daniel is panicking a bit. Because he knew it would ruin everything, this thing he feels for Max. But then Max's hand is in his neck, drawing him against his lips again, magnets in the dark.

- So yeah, that's a thing they do now. Making out. Heavy petting. Every time it happens, Daniel wants to flail his arms, run in circles, scream like fucking Tarzan. It's like getting a podium over and over again, it's like champagne bubbles getting trapped in his chest. Max kisses him like he races (point-blank, non-stop, making him weak at the knees) and he likes to make Daniel straddle him and he likes to caress his thighs, draw his tattoos again, the three against his lips before kissing each of his fingers.

-It makes Daniel effervescent with happiness and when they're racing in Japan, he's fourth in the race, almost a podium and he comes back to the garage and hugs everyone and laughs and almost cries because he's coming back, baby, he's so coming back. And he goes back to the hotel and doesn't go to his room, he goes straight to Max's room and he doesn't stop to think because he's going to chicken out otherwise.

- And he's on his knees.

- He's on his knees for Max, and he puts his forehead against Max's tummy and kisses his belly button and blows a raspberry against his hip and Max pushes his head away, silly-laughing, and Daniel says let me, let me, please, I won't do it again, Maxy, but let me and Max touches one of his brows and touches his hair and then brings him against his body.

- And kissing Max is like getting a podium but blowing him is getting second place, getting drunk, getting sweaty, getting high-high-high.

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

You can read the continuation here.

#f1 #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #so yeah #not beta read #not finished either #im just leaving this here because i need it to leave my mind just for a second #otp: maxiel #my fic

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obm-avenquire · 1 year

Text

Obey Me! Seven Minutes In Heaven Hell

[I’m honouring my rotten god awful roots from hell. Put up with it. I hope this gives someone whiplash. I am writing this both as a joke and with complete sincerity and i wont be explaining myself if you get it you get it if you dont then i hope youll find it entertaining anyway. I used my own deviantart for 2012 for reference for this]

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Another day, another party in the Devildom.

You have no idea how any of them have energy for all this - it feels like every week someone will pull some cause for celebration out of thin air and suddenly they’ve hired a catering company and a truckload of helium balloons. Of course, Diavolo - fuelled by his unending fear of missing out and need for enrichment - enables it every time, doing everything he can to get himself and everyone else you know invited. Which is…fine, you like seeing them all. In moderation. At none noisy crowded events. Ah, well. Such is the burden of a dating sim protagonist. Slumber parties at the castle are a little less high maintenance at least.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Asmodeus calls your name, waving you over with Demonus-flushed cheeks before dragging you away from the balcony and back into the big guest room-turned-common-room-sleeping-area. You definitely think there’s a better way to phrase that, but you barely have time to think when Asmo is pushing you to sit down in the collective circle (his strength always surprises you, and he’s maybe just a little too tipsy to regulate it properly), pressing a kiss on your cheeks before running off to herd together the rest of the group.

You look around the circle, giving Satan an affirming but vague nod that he returns with an equally innocuous smile, which you accept as you always do and go back to your usual little headcount. Belphegor was dozing on the sofa, threatening to sprawl over Satan (who was ‘gently’ repositioning him whenever necessary), Mephistopholes (who had invited himself) was preaching his very special gospel to Beelzebub at the snack table while Asmodeus did whatever he could to wrangle the younger away because his plate was basically just a tower of snacks at this point and he could always get more later so if he would just pleeeeaaaaasssee-

You stop paying attention, instead giving Simeon and Raphael a little wave as they walk in.

“Welcome back,” You shuffle over slightly to make space for the two of them, Simeon sitting down next to you as Raphael decides to stand rigidly slightly off to the side just a little behind the sofa, and just…stay there. Well, whatever makes him comfortable, you guess. “Did Luke arrive safe?”

“He did, thankfully,” Simeon smiles, tucking his phone into the pockets of his trousers, “I can’t believe Serun broke all their bones and had to be hospitalised again. I feel awful not being able to visit, but, well…” He sighs, shrugging, “He wanted to go himself, and insisted he could manage, so…You know how he i-”

“What? I only came because I was promised melon cake!” You’re not sure where Thirteen popped up from, but she’s already on the armchair in the corner, kicking her legs over the armrests as she rolls her eyes. “What a waste of time.”

“Oh! Well, he still finished that, actually, so-” There’s a distinctive arcane shink sound that cuts Simeon off mid sentence. “Now, Raphael, put the spear away, you can’t do that here-” Ever the stickler for manners, it seems. Oh well. Not your problem.

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask.” Thirteen raises her eyebrows at your voice, pupils knife-like and theatrically bitchy in the dim candlelight. “Why are you covered in soot.”

“Well,” She scoffs, clicking her tongue, “Since someone-” She glares at Solomon from across the room, who smiles very nicely and innocently through his conversation with Barbatos- “Decided to ‘dismantle’-” She does incredibly heavy and repeated air quotes with her fingers, “My special little bomb boy it exploded all wrong!”

“I understand completely. I’m sorry someone would ever do something so awful to you, you don’t deserve that even slightly.” She snorts, balling up the tissue she was using to wipe the ashes off her forearm and throws it at your head. It disintegrates in midair before so much as making contact, and you squint over in the sorcerer's direction. He’s not even looking your way, and Barbatos whispers something you can’t make out to him as Thirteen groans and throws up her hands in frustration, sliding into what must be an incredibly uncomfortable position. It doesn’t seem to bother her, though, and she picks at her nails grumpily. Oh well!

“-Stop complainin’ already, would it really kill ya to join in?” Mammon is doing everything in his power to pull Levi through the door by the collar of his coat, but the younger seems to be trying to retract his own head into his shirt like a turtle to try and get out of it.

“You’re killing me you’re the worst and I hate youandIhopeeverythingbadeverhappenstoyoua-”

“Yeah yeah whatever. Shut up and sit.” Mammon slings his arm over Levi’s shoulder, dragging him down into the circle just as Lucifer and Diavolo finally come back from whatever it was they were getting done.

“Lucifer, don’t make that face!” Diavolo nudges his bestest of friends, who looks particularly miserable, even as Barbartos silently refills his glass before they all, too, sit to join, the prince and his right hand man on the final empty sofa, the butler instead choosing to kneel neatly a little off to the side from Mammon and Levi. Satan adeptly shoves Belphegor upwards at just the right timing for Beelzebub to sit down (his twin slumps right back into his shoulder). Mephistopholes complains that there isn’t a proper place to sit til Mammon trips him and he ungracefully tries to pass it off as deciding to sit on the floor as Thirteen barks a sharp laugh at him.

A pleasant hum of conversation settles through the room, Asmodeus stumbling into hugging Solomon, whispering something between the invocation trio that you can’t quite make out before spinning around and clapping his hands together (cutely. It’s important to emphasise that he did this so so cutely) to get everyone’s attention.

“E---veryone!!!” He waits a few seconds for silence, shooting a glare at whoever dares to continue in the wake of this very very important announcement. “It’s time for a very special game! Have we all heard of 7 minutes in heaven?” He bounces on the tips of his feet in excitement despite the lukewarm reception. “Okay well that’s a mostly no then I guess- Honestly! I know it’s a human world thing, but really?” He pouts, and you note that Diavolo’s visible excitement has increased exponentially already.

“Allow me to explain,” Solomon cuts in, confirming your suspicion that he’d been somehow roped into this. “Two or more participants are selected - in our case by drawing lots - to go into a closet or equivalent and do whatever they like for 7 minutes.” Everyone seems a lot more attentive, suddenly. “Ah, of course, we’ll be taking magic precautions to make sure that there’s no cheating, and certainly no one breaking into the closet before time is up,” He grins, clearly enjoying this already.

“The heck.” Mammon grumbles, oddly fidgety all of a sudden, “There ain’t even a closet in here,” Leviathan nods aggressively. He’s sweating.

“Hm? Oh! That won’t be a problem, haha! Barbatos was kind enough to offer to help out with that,” The aforementioned butler steps aside to reveal a simple wooden door on the wall that decidedly hadn’t been there earlier. “We even made sure it was sound-proofed! You know, just in case.”

“What a curious game! Shall we start right away?” Diavolo beams, inadvertently cutting off Mephistopholes, who’d just opened his mouth to no doubt complain that this sort of juvenile and inappropriate game had no place at a gathering with the Devildom’s one and only prince.

“Yes!! Everyone write your name on a piece of paper, okay?” Asmo begins handing out paper and pens to everyone, shushing any complaining he meets. “You don’t have to play! It just means you’re boring and no fun and that you’ll never get a chance like this again.”

Better write your name, then. You’d hate to miss out.

You watch as Barbatos collects everyone’s paper slips, dropping them into a glass bowl and shaking periodically to shuffle them well. You immediately lose track of yours, so you figure that it’s worked. After what feels like a slightly inordinate amount of time, everyone seems to have put their name in the bowl - sure, some were more…begrudging or in need of convincing than others, but that’s normal! Anyways-

“Oooo I’ve been waiting for this all evening!” Asmodeus grabs the bowl, tap-tap-tapping along the rim for effect, perfectly manicured nails making a pleasant ASMR-esque tink noise. “Right, first u-”

“Uhm, how do- how do we know you’re, uh, not rigging this?” Asmo whips his head around to stare open-mouthed at Levi.

“Excuse me? I would never-”

“Mm, there’s no guarantee though, is there?” Asmodeus pouts at Satan, grumbling something about being personally offended and making sure to snitch next time Satan asks him for a favour.

“Fine! Since I’m so untrustworthy and awful-” The smile is switched back on as he saunters over to you, swishing the bowl around carefully before holding it out to you. “Why don’t you pick? No one will complain then, right?”

The silence in the room means yes, presumably.

“Go on hun! Don’t be nervous-” He winks, and your mouth quirks into a smile to humour him, carefully reaching into the bowl for two slips of paper, pulling them out and carefully unfolding them to reveal-

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

[As is tradition, I'll be uploading the individual 'endings' as I write them :) I'll be putting a poll up on my account for who to write first (within reason, I don't think tumblr will let me put up enough options to cover everyone) so feel free to suggest people in the replies/tags too!! there will be no luke option becuz i dont know how to put hardware destroying malware in clickable links yet sory :( feel free to simulate the experience urself tho!!]

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