#the idea of being able to put my weight on something other than my knees sounds so nice

[tboyautism]

the idea of forearm crutches is. so nice. i feel relief just thinking about them.

#i have no idea how to fo about mobility aids #for context: im unmedicated right now. conpletley. #after an mri didnt find any swelling they took me off my meds cause my arthritis seemed like it wasnt active #granted now everything hurts more and is somehwta swollen #pain clinic in several months and im suspected for having fibro or another pain amplification disorder #but god #my hips and knees are so bad walking has become so painful #stairs jesus christ #i have to go up them every day for school and i dread ir #my physical therapist also thinks im ready to graduate from physical therapy #because of how strong ive gotten #and the initail reasoning for me to not get a cane or anything was because we were focusing on strengthening my body #but everything still hurts. lol. #the idea of being able to put my weight on something other than my knees sounds so nice #im so tired #ugh #fibro #arthritis #disabled #tagging this because i kind of need advice

[schwarzkatje]

abby x chubby!reader - a very self indulgent scenario

warning: just so you know, this contains obviously mentions of descriptions regarding body parts so if this is a trigger i advise you don't read this.

i believe abby to be one of those butches who absolutely go feral for fuller, chubbier women.

this goes hand in hand with my previous headcanon/scenario in which i explored abby's breeding kink. because once you gain weight and your breasts gets bigger, your thighs become plushier and your stomach forms that slightly hanging portion of skin adorned in your frilly and feminine dresses, abby is ashamed to admit to even herself the undeniable effect she experiences.

she doubts if what she is doing is really offensive to you because she wonders whether this can fall into the category of objectification. therefore, abby has to mentally remind herself to not be a creep and to divert her gaze from you.

her thoughts are at constant fight as one part of herself blames a morbid perversion that has to be kept on check, but just as the other part sketches the idea of it being nothing but an harmless preference in her partners.

that being said, the semblance of self control that she had built with such an effort completely shatters when you two actually interact with each other. your inclination for shirts and dresses that showed your soft chest in just the perfect way to make abby's head spin is the cherry on top of this insane obsession she has to continuously push back.

it really doesn't take much for abby to have images flashing in her head displaying her taking one of your breasts in her hand and the other under the torturous treatment of her tongue and teeth, responsible for the purple love bites scattered all over your upper body.

following suit, the scenario alone of you on your back as abby spreads your legs and brings them to yourself, bending you in half and thus highlighting the delicious rolls of your stomach causes a wet patch to form in her underwear and an undetectable twitch of her legs, squeezing to maintain the facade of a normal person who doesn't get turned on as easily as an hormonal teenager would.

one day you two are sitting together and it pains abby to not be able to handle looking at you without the need to shy away and focus on anything that isn't you. and if she manages to avoid the sight of you, your laugh and the touches you give her are daggers piercing through her shield. she is aware of how awkward she actually acts and how impossible it would have been for you to not notice at some point.

when you place your smooth hand above her own – which abby had put on her knee – her breath halts and before she can apply some rationality she turns to you, finding you are closer than her senses had detected.

your eyes are so big and innocent and full of joy and... seducing, she observes.

"abby..." despite your firm gaze, her name comes out of your mouth as a whisper capable of making her hand on the knee grip it forcefully, not minding that this is definitely giving her off.

"i've been wanting to ask you this for quite some time," you unforgivably continue "but why do i feel like we're growing apart?" the content your inquiry is that of an unspeakable sorrow and fear of losing a dear person, but the tone in which it is asked exudes a neediness for something beyond simple reassurance. you bite your lips as abby is speechless before your question and your vicinity – what in the hell is happening? is she imagining things like she always does?

her attempt at assembling a sentence proves to be a failure when all you can hear is something along the lines of "no", "of course not", without any addition of the reason behind that.

"i wouldn't be here with you right now were it the case," is the best she manages to say as she tries to laugh it off with a shy grimace feigning a confidence that is long gone the moment you are in her presence.

"but then why are you always so stiff when i hug you? you don't even come up with ideas for what to do together like we used to," your heartbeat quickens, dwelling in an uncertain place between genuine hurt and sinful arousal for abby's shyness and difficulty in approaching you.

"i- i haven't really noticed anything different, maybe it's just that i've been busy but i'm not avoiding you, i mean–" she is cut short by your voice interrupting her and your face inching closer and closer to the point where she can see the shape of your lips with the corner of her eye.

"do i make you uneasy, abby?" and why do you have to lean forward and have your breasts already tightened by your corset invade her visual field. "and to think i've been wearing this for you," now your knee is touching hers, your dress leaving your thighs exposed the more you draw near, "hoping you would take it off," what on earth— "or, even better, you would have fucked me in it..."

what kind of absurd dream is she in?

#abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

spicy ask 🌶️

Not sure if you’ve answered this but, what do you think are Everlark’s specifically favorite sex positions are? What what does Peeta consider his favorite, what does Katniss? And what do they mutually both just love? 💚🧡

Dear Spicy Anon,

I gave this question way too much thought. And also held onto it for way too ling because I wanted to gather my thoughts on all five of the asks you sent me. But here you go. My thoughts on the matter.

I do think that eventually, Everlark is comfortable enough to try out a lot of different positions. While I don’t think they’d get into hard core kink the way we think of hard core kinks, I do think they eventually grow comfortable enough with each other and with their desire for each other that they’re fairly experimental in the bedroom. And I think that manifests as trying out almost every position conceivable.

Katniss actually starts that trend, once she discovers that there’s more than just missionary and doggy style. Peeta of course has already daydreamed almost everything she comes up with, but he lets her set the pace of experimentation at first. Until he discovers that she actually really gets off on him being demanding and bossy in bed. Then all bets are off and horny Peeta pretty much shocks her with his ideas on the regular… but also she so wants to try that now. And then she makes it a goal of hers to request something that surprises Peeta. Anyways!

Favorite Overall Position: Katniss on top (aka Cowgirl).

Reasons: Having Katniss on top is the easiest, most comfortable position for Peeta with his amputation. It wouldn’t be the first position they try, mainly because I think Katniss would be self-conscious about Peeta being able to see so much of her, and also because this position puts her in control and she wouldn’t have a clue what she’s doing at first. This would bother her, not knowing what she’s doing. But it’s the second position they try after missionary, and that experiment comes rather quick after their first few times having sex. 

Once they do “discover” it, they both freaking love it. Katniss discovers that she gets to see all of Peeta too, if she positions herself at certain angles in relation to his body. Also, the fact that she has complete control means they’re both super focused on her orgasm first, his second, and they’re really freaking good orgasms -- exactly what she likes. Peeta is super into watching her pleasure unfold in her body movements and her expressions, and being able to touch her, help get her there, all while comfortably laying back. Yes, ma’am. He’ll have another helping of what she’s having. Also… eye contact is insane, and when she’s done, Katniss can just flop on top of him, instantly in her favorite cuddle position with the added erotic benefit of him still being inside her.

A Variation They Enjoy (but might not be their Go To): Edge of Heaven. Where he’s seated, either on a chair or more often at the edge of the bed and she’s facing him on top. Hits all the right spots for her and pretty much demands the intimacy of close cuddling. Guaranteed kissing, holding, caressing each other’s face and shoulders and hair during sex? Heck yes! Sign them both up. From here, Katniss can be on her knees straddling him, have her legs wrapped around his hips, dangle them to the side or brace them on the floor for more leverage. All kinds of naughty fun to be had!

Of course, it’s difficult for them to pick one favorite because they’re so insanely thirsty for each other and both of them get off on pleasing the other. So they have several favorites. Here’s a few more I think they really like.

Katniss’s Faves: 

Missionary. She just really likes having Peeta’s weight on top of her, grounding her, feeling him moving inside her so intently. The eye contact! The kissing! The ability to wrap her legs and arms around him and hold him together while he falls apart? Even if she doesn’t always come when they’re here, she loves just existing with him in this state. Bonus tho if they manage to get it just right so they’re in CAT.

Reverse Scoop/Spoon, where they’re on their sides, facing one another. For this one, Katniss actually prefers their thighs to be scissored rather than both of his tucked between hers. It’s more comfortable for her and she can really get him deep inside her that way. Again, the opportunities for eye contact and kissing are rife with this position (noticing a theme here?).

Butterfly, in which Katniss would be on her back, either on the bed or the kitchen table, with her butt right at the edge and Peeta standing, with her legs draped over his chest, his shoulders. While she can’t touch him as much in this one, he can still reach her and she’s willing to occasionally give up the ability to have her hands all over him if it feels this fucking good. And, if he spreads her legs and lowers them, he can bend over on top of her for kisses and other naughty variations.

And finally, one of her unexpected faves. On her stomach with Peeta on top of her. Again, she likes having his weight on her.

Peeta’s Faves:

Katniss on her stomach with him on top. See, there’s a reason I didn’t go into detail on Katniss’s unexpected favorite. 

And honestly, I think he’s especially fond of almost every version of him behind Katniss during sex, be it standing, standing with one of her leaning on the table or the kitchen counter, or the bathroom counter where he can watch her face in the mirror, standing with one of her legs up on the table, her draped over the back of the couch, in the shower, up against a tree, her bent over a warm boulder out in the woods, laid out on a picnic blanket, in bed with her flat on the sheets, on all fours, on her knees while she’s gripping the headboard, in the bathtub, on her knees with her face in the mattress so her body is bent in a triangle. The man has so many salacious variations on this position I don’t even know all the urban dictionary or kama sutra names for them and I don’t have time to look them up. And honestly neither would he. He’d just be like “what happens if I lift her leg like… this?” “Bend her like this?”

Why does he like it so much? Partly because it turns out that she likes it a lot. Now, of course they especially love being able to look each other in the eyes during sex, which is why I think that eventually, once Katniss gets over her self-conscious nonsense in the bedroom, they have sex in front of mirrors quite a bit. There’s a full length one on the back of their bedroom door just so he can position her in a way that they can see each other on the bed when he’s behind her.

Plus, he can get some deep penetration from this angle, as long as his legs are up for it, and also it feels so freaking good that he often winds up fucking his wife like a mad man in these positions… which she freaking loves. A lot.

Also… I have two words for you… hair pulling. Not like super hard, yanking it out by the roots, or anything like that, but man does our sweet baker boy get off HARD when he’s got a fist full of Katniss’s hair or her braid wrapped around his hand and she’s arching and moaning and writhing underneath him. Teenage Peeta would explode knowing what adult Peeta gets to do to Katniss Everdeen.

Two more words for you… reach around. Whether you take that as Peeta reaching around to touch her breasts, her clitoris, or both… or you take it as Peeta wrapping his arms around her to hold her even if she can’t hold him, then you’re correct. He loves being able to do those things.

Spooning. Okay, yeah it’s kind of a variation on the ones listed above, except the tenderness is off the charts with this one. He can’t move as much or as fast because he risks hurting Katniss or slipping out constantly from this angle, but the slow and steady is just *chef’s kiss*. And speaking of kisses, this is another one that with a little contortion allows them to share kisses on the mouth, and he can certainly bathe her neck and shoulders in kisses in this position.

Reverse cowgirl, in all its glorious versions. His favorite variation though is when she places one of her knees between his legs and the other one on the outside of his leg, so she’s basically straddling his one thigh and grinding her clit up against it while he’s inside her. However, reverse cowgirl in general is one they don’t find themselves using all that often because they have a habit of going at it so hard that he keeps slipping out, maybe hitting her at an angle that doesn’t feel so great, or she accidentally bends his dick at an uncomfortable angle… So for them it’s like “we tried it and nailed it a few times, and when we did nail it... oh buddy yes! but the other times we tried were just… no. Not working."

Final Notes: It should also be noted that the positions I listed for one, the other definitely enjoys. They just might not go stupid and glassy eyed when they think about it later. I do think that if they try a position that does nothing for one of them, even if the other really likes it, they don’t really try it again.

I didn’t cover any oral sex positions here because that would’ve just been a whole other dissertation, but basically… yes. To all of it.

And thank you for sitting through my thesis, Spicy Anon.

<3 kdnfb

#spicy anon 🌶️ #well aren't you a spicy anon #anonymous #look at that ask #let's talk about sex #spicy ask 1 of 5 #from this anon in particular

[smartycvnt]

Like a Porn Star

Title: Like a Porn Star Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Minors DNI, 18+ Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), throat fucking NR WC: 872

"What do you want Dean? You know I can give you almost anything." Y/n's words sat between the two of them with the weight of the universe. The gun that Dean had come to see her with wasn't loaded. It hadn't been after their second meeting. Sam was off researching some monster for them to chase while Dean sat in a hotel room with half of his clothes on the ground and the crossroads demon to end all crossroads demon standing in front of him. He wasn't sure how Y/n had done it, but she had always acted outside of Lucifer and Hell's control.

"I don't have much time tonight," Dean told her. Y/n snickered at that as she walked over to stand in front of him. Dean was staring down at the carpet to avoid looking directly at Y/n. She was dangerous, even whenever she wasn't doing a thing. Dean never knew her intentions. Sometimes she helped them, sometimes she threatened to end their lives if he and Sam got in her way again. All Dean knew was that Y/n had a tendency to be nicer whenever he came alone.

"You haven't got much time in the long run-," Dean blinked and suddenly he was staring down at Y/n with her head hanging off the edge of the bed, "-so you might as well enjoy what you've got left."

Dean wasn't going to argue with Y/n on that one. She seemed to have a good idea of when someone would expire. She could smell a lost cause from a mile away, and Dean suspected that was why they were so drawn to each other. Dean liked danger, and there was nobody more dangerous to Dean than Y/n. Y/n liked what she could take without much effort, despite her claims to love the thrill of a chase or the complicated steps of a courting. Dean knew better than that, there was no mistaking how badly she wanted to get straight to the chase as she ran her palm over the bulge in his jeans.

"Better to live each moment like it's my last then?" Dean questioned. Y/n nodded as her nimble fingers undid his pants. The metal clank of his belt buckle hitting something in his pocket echoed a little in the hotel room. Dean swallowed thickly as Y/n pulled everything down his legs with one move. There was nothing for Dean to hide behind, but the way that Y/n stared at him gave Dean a boost of confidence unlike any other. That was why no matter what he'd always come back to Y/n, nobody made him feel so comfortable in his own skin. Y/n was able to put him on top of the world every single time that they hooked up.

Y/n didn't bother to ease herself into the situation at all. She knew what to expect from Dean, he was the only person to touch her since she had crawled her way out of Hell, not that Dean knew. This body that she had taken was more than used to the feeling of having him inside of it, no matter where he was entering her from. Dean grabbed the sides of Y/n's jaw as he bent his knees slightly to lower himself into her mouth. Y/n took every inch of Dean into her mouth and let him adjust his position so that he could move easier. Dean had met a lot of different women in his years of being on the road, but none of them could do the things that Y/n could. She was able to do things that Dean had only seen a few women do in videos posted onto the internet or the cheap budget pornos he rented in motels.

"Fuck," Dean groaned as he felt his knees begin to weaken. Y/n dug her nails into his hips to distract him from the immense pleasure that he was feeling. It just barely managed to do the trick. Dean began to thrust his hips harder and faster as he chased after the feeling he had been so close to before. Y/n could hear the strain in Dean's voice with each thrust of his hips that was taken. She could feel his grip tighten on her as he got closer and closer to the edge once again. This time Y/n let him have his release, relishing in the waves of pleasure that rolled off of his body as he came. It was easy enough to get Dean back onto the bed where she wanted him.

"You're getting old," Y/n said as she wiped at the corner of her mouth. Dean looked at her incredulously before realizing what she was meaning.

"It's not like a movie," Dean scoffed as he covered himself with his hands. Y/n vanished from the room without a trace, leaving Dean to sit there by himself. "You didn't have to go. I only need a few minutes tops, especially if you do that thing with your tongue!" It was too late though, and all of Dean's words were wasted on an empty room.

#my writing #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Rose, Lemon and Berry from the HC ask game with all three of your boys <3

Thank you for requesting, dear anon! I hope you like what I came up with :)

Rose: What part of falling/being in love do they get the most joy out of?

Ahhh this was a hard one to fill but I really enjoyed it :) I wrote 2 things for each because I’m indecisive! 

Frank

There’s so many things that he enjoys about being in a relationship, this man is not looking for simple notches on his belt. (I know he has had one night stands but CMON y’all. Taking Beth’s kid out for breakfast? If the Amy stuff never happened, he wouldn’t have left.)

I think he enjoys two things most: having someone in his life to protect and take care of, and being able to imagine a future again. 

Frank is obviously an Acts of Service™️ kinda dude, but like he clearly enjoys doing things for others just because! 

If there is a way he can help someone, especially someone he cares about, he will. I think it’s just as much to make him feel good as it is to make you feel good. He wants to do something kind with his hands rather than cause more hurt. 

Also, he just loves being a husband and having a family. (Helping Sarah and the kids, taking Amy in, it’s so clear he wants the family thing again)

I don’t know if this is a consequence of his own tragedy but he’s so willing to play the father figure. I don’t necessarily think he’d want to have more kids of his own, but I think domestic life with a significant other would be so enjoyable for him and allow him to heal. 

Matt

Companionship and trust. 

This is absolutely a symptom of his trauma but he is so overjoyed to have someone who actually enjoys being around him. 

He cannot understand why, but the fact that you keep coming back despite all his flaws makes his heart happy every single day. 

He just enjoys the idea that someone out there is thinking about him, waiting for him. 

Also, the idea that someone trusts him wholeheartedly after finding out what he can do and what he’s done, he can’t fathom it. And once he’s obtained it, he could cry. He’s not used to someone having so much faith in him. 

Sure, you worry about him, but you still want to be with him despite his work after hours. It’s more than he could ask for. 

Mikey

Having someone to care for him and expose him to life outside of his family. 

It sounds really selfish, but we all know he’s anything but a selfish partner. 

It’s been so long since comfort was something within his reach and you just make it seem so simple. Every time you wrap your arms around him, it feels like his knees might give out. 

It’s like you can read his mind, you’re always there to hold him but you can tell when he needs space. If he’s not ready or is unable to talk about something, you never pressure him

It’s a genuine love he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

And the weight of the family business gets heavier by the day, so having someone who isn’t wrapped up in all that constantly is such a breath of fresh air.  

He gets caught up in celebrating the little things with you. Like a good cup of coffee or a pretty sunset. 

Lemon: What is something seemingly inconsequential that can put them in a bad mood for the rest of the day?

Frank

Missing breakfast. 

I think on some level he’s used to it, living in strenuous conditions overseas for so long and everything, but it never fails to piss him off. 

This man is hungry all the time. He’s not picky, but food is a must. 

He also thrives on a strict routine. 

So missing the very first meal of the day is just that much worse than any other meal because it also throws his routine completely out of whack. 

He will be so grumpy, drinking his coffee on an empty stomach with a scowl firmly planted on his face. 

I think he’d be easily appeased though. If you brought him takeout or a snack, he’d get over it pretty quickly. 

Hangry Frank, my beloved. 

Matt

Unseasonably bad weather. Especially snow and big storms. 

He can sense it coming, but that doesn’t make it any less shitty on his senses. 

Snow makes things muffled and I would assume rain is just a lot. If it’s loud to someone with normal hearing, it must be unbearable to him some days.  

As an autistic person, rain, wind, and snow are just the fucking worst to be out in, even for a short little walk to work. I imagine it would be similar for Matt. 

He spends the rest of the day so miserable because of the cold or his damp clothes and it just ruins everything. 

He would definitely give you the sad puppy eyes when he got home and just open his arms for a hug. 

His bad day would be forgotten if you wrapped him in a soft blanket and pet his hair. Hair pets solve most of his problems. 

Mikey

Being forced out of bed urgently. 

This one is a lil generic but hear me out. 

I feel like Mikey’s morning routine has become a little safe haven for him, and it’s a huge indicator of his stress levels as well as a designated time for relaxation so he doesn’t trigger a seizure. 

If he wakes up late or is immediately forced to handle some family BS, it just immediately forces him into an anxious spiral about his own health. 

If it does end up causing a seizure, I think his self-consciousness and justified grumpiness would last the whole week at least. Poor thing. 

I think some comforting actions that he’d appreciate would be assisting with things he didn’t want to do the rest of the day? Maybe refilling his meds or making/ordering food. 

He’s absolutely a quality time and acts of service guy, so showering him with attention and helping him out however you can would definitely get him through his bad mood. 

Berry: What makes them happier than perhaps it should? Do others know about it?

This is peak HC, outta left field shit. But I am so confident about them 😂

Frank:

Seeing a dog get really excited over something silly. Like chasing their own tail, or seeing a shadow. 

Frank just enjoys dogs and their innocence so much. Anytime he sees one of them get genuinely excited for next to no reason, it brightens his day. 

I think very few people get to see Frank’s real smile but his partner definitely would. And he might not verbally express how happy dogs make him, but it wouldn’t be hard to figure out. 

Matt

This man enjoys hearing the birds in the morning. 

This is absolutely me projecting bc I love looking at birds but they have such beautiful and unique sounds, but I think he would love distinguishing between them. 

Any day he gets to walk past a green area with some songbirds is a good day. 

I think he would definitely share this with someone he cared about, but he might have to work up to it. (Y’all know how he is with vulnerability.)

Mikey

Little things that make Michael happy? Romance novels and soap operas

They’re so cheesy and he loves it. His life is so dramatic that sometimes it’s nice to just be dropped into a whirlwind love story that moves at lightning speed. 

Not to mention the drama in soap operas far outweighs his life. At least he’s never fallen down an elevator shaft!

I think he’d be too embarrassed to tell his SO but would love to read/watch with them if they asked.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #frank castle #charlie cox #marvel #matt murdock x you #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle headcanon #frank castle headcanons #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fanfiction #my writing #marvel daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #daredevil mcu #daredevil netflix #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #mikey kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin #kin rte

[treysimp]

Stuck Forever (GN!Reader/Deuce)

GN!Reader/Deuce Spade

Twisted Wonderland One-Shot:

Tags: Slight angst, but mostly comfort and fluff. Implied violence, but not towards the reader. Reader's body is not described, nor are pronouns used.

Working thru some stuff so I wrote Deuce being a cutie. This is entirely self-indulgent, haha.

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

The first time you saw him, you thought that your breath had been sucked  directly out of your lungs.

His dark hair, bright eyes, how he put his hand to his chin when he was thinking… you might have fallen in love at first sight. 

Then you got to see more of him, and it didn't go away.

The first time he saw you, he wasn’t entirely sure what to think.

Someone had popped out of a coffin, accompanied by a bratty fire-monster, no magic, and yet more guts than he had ever seen in his previously-delinquent life. 

The gleam in your eye when you had an idea, the grimace you made when you skinned your knee on a bad broom landing in gym, the way your eyes crinkle in delight when you saw him. It might not have been love at first sight, but it was love at every consequential sight since then, surely. 

“Deuce?” You asked, jogging him out of his reverie.

“Yes?” He replied, pushing a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear. 

His strands were a little dry, a bit more like straw than he would like. Those couple of years of bleaching his roots every two weeks had done a number on his ends. He was very proud that it was almost grown out at this point, though. Maybe a month or two more and all that hair would have been untouched by the old-Deuce. The blood spatter that he despirately tried to scrub from his yellow hair had finally left his body. The heartbreak he felt at seeing his mother sob when he came home late from another fight. When he came home smelling like the cigarette that had been put out on his jacket sleeve before he had taken out another guy's front teeth in recompense. It would be gone soon, it felt like a weight would lift and he would be able to finally become who he wanted to be.   

“What do you want to do when you graduate?” You asked, resting your head on the knee you had propped up next to you. 

Deuce noticed that you said ‘you graduate’ and not, ‘we graduate’. 

It scared him, he felt awful for wishing that you’d never leave, but it felt like every interaction he had with you contained that little whisper that kept repeating: ‘maybe this is the last time’. Maybe that future he was imagining for himself would be missing you in it and that thought terrified him more than most.

“Is it bad that I want to keep going on like this?” He replied, gaze pulling away from your face and instead forcing himself to watch over the beautiful courtyard that you both had chosen for today's study session. 

Both of you were situated on a charmingly vine-encrusted stone bench, enjoying the first sunny day after a week of rain. Everything smelled fresh and clean, and the bite of the cool air kept him awake when he otherwise might be tempted to fall into a history-reading-induced sleep.

You looked at Deuce’s profile thoughtfully. At the moment, you weren’t sure if you agreed with him or not. Did you want to keep going like this? Wanting to go home was something that hung heavy in your heart, but it seemed like every day it ran away further. 

You tried to summon thoughts of those you cared for in your own world. You weren’t sure if you could imagine their voices anymore. It scared you. 

You could recognize bits and pieces of those you loved in yourself. In the way you said certain syllables, the foods you craved for comfort on difficult days and the stories that you couldn’t properly tell other people because having to explain the backstory alone would take hours and you just didn’t have it in you. 

With a sigh, you leaned your forehead on Deuce’s shoulder. His body stiffened at the contact. 

“You’re not okay, are you?” he asked softly, resting his gloved hand on your shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I’m not sure how.” You said after a long pause. Trying to hide the tears that wanted to spill out of your eyes, you nuzzled further into the smooth fabric of Deuce's blazer. 

Hoping that he hadn’t noticed the tears that had already fallen on his sleeve, you tried to hide your face. Looking absolutely wretched from crying as well as being horribly depressed was the last thing you wanted to do today. It was on the list after 'talk to Grim about his shopping habits' you just didn't want to.

A thumb slowly swiped under your eye. The leather slightly squeaked as it removed the single tear that had escaped. Despite your efforts to disappear in the wool-blend of your friend's sleeve, it seems like you were seen anyway. Of course you were, that's what you liked about him.  

Starting from the action, you jerked your head up to look at Deuce, who had a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

You both sat in silence for a moment, seemingly at a loss of what to say. His hand drifted back up beneath your eye to wipe away another tear. 

They stubbornly kept coming, and each time he would wipe the new one away before it could reach your chin. Deuce pulled off his gloves with his teeth and stowed them in his interior jacket pocket. Once the gloves were out of the way, he resumed pushing the tears away with his softly calloused hands. 

It was hard not to look at Deuce's hands, you rarely saw them after all. 

His knuckles had lots of small scrapes and white-moon scars peppering his skin, showing that despite how he looked now, he used to be a different person. 

“This one was from a guy’s front teeth!” He had told you proudly one day, pointing out a particularly deep jagged line on his knuckle. 

Deuce was embarrassed about his past, but he still grinned when retelling particularly satisfying fights and spats he got into when he was younger. It was only after he got wrapped up enough to almost yell out the details of the tale that he would snap his trap shut and flush a pretty crimson at his own antics. You loved seeing him that way. You loved how he would be so passionate and headstrong one moment and meek at embarassed the next. 

It’s hard to change, you knew that more than anyone. You had so much respect for him wanting so badly to change. You didn't know if you would be able to do the same in his shoes.

Your lip quilvered at his kindness in continuing to mop up your tears, him quietly whispeing 'it's okay,' and 'you're okay,' to you on repeat. It felt kind of pathetic, really. So many people at this school were so overflowing with pain that it quite literally flooded out of them in a gush of magic and hatred, but you only had small salty tears for your own catharsis. 

This sucks. 

Meanwhile, Deuce was distracted by how soft your skin was under his touch. The puffy swelling of your lids did nothing to hide how your eyes gilmmered as they looked at him. It felt almost like he was fighting the tears to keep looking at you. He was willing you to keep looking at him, keep thinking about him. Please keep thinking about him. 

He would do anything for you to keep thinking about him. 

“...hey.” Deuce said hoarsely, clearing his throat to start again, “If you’re stuck…” he shook his head, no, no. That’s not right. 

He deeply inhaled through his nose. 

“As long as you want me… as long as you want me with you, I mean... I won’t leave, okay?” He finished firmly. 

Deuce's scarred hand moved to cup your cheek in comfort and you couldn’t help but lean into its warmth and close your eyes. 

“You’ll regret that,” you say with a tired smile, “What if I say that I want you forever?” 

You’re joking. If this goes bad… then you can say that you’re joking.

You basically just confessed to him but maybe it’s better for both of you if you are joking.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me forever, huh?” You could hear the mirth bubbling out from his chest from the statement. 

What?

Your eyes snap open and stare at Deuce in surprise. 

He had moved closer than he had been just a moment ago. A petal-soft warmth on your cheek swiped away the final tear that his hands had missed. 

Deuce slowly separates from you and gives you a close eyed smile. 

“I won’t let you change your mind on that one. No matter what. You can't get rid of me now.”

Just wanted to do something a little sappy and cute. Don't worry, not abandoning any of my many WIPs, haha.

Thanks for reading, love you!

#deuce x yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #gender neutral reader #disney twst #twst #reader insert #deuce spade #heartslaybul x reader #heartslabyul #deuce x reader #deuce x y/n #deuce x you #reader is yuu

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Friends with benefits situation and Daryl accidentally got Reader pregnant (oopsie!). One time she overheard his conversation with someone so she confronted him saying: why do you feel the need to specify we're just friends?

And yes, feel free to do angst.

Love love love love love. I didn't do so much angst because I couldn't imagine a situation where he genuinely meant it in a confrontational or mean manner so I hope this is okay :) Plus it's really late and I'm so tired.

Everyone citizen in Hilltop knows the reason why I'm so moody and swollen and that it's due to the man who stops by our settlement every other week just to check in on me. They've watched my belly grow over the last few months, my legs beginning to waddle as I make my way to the farm every day to salvage any of the usable crops, barely being able to bend over without the supervision of someone else there with me.

I think that, at first, every assumed that I had a husband or a partner, especially with how confident I've felt about my pregnancy this whole time. But over time, people watched Daryl and I interact and realized that he was indeed the daddy and their gazes switched at some point from something resembling pleasant shock to naive judgment.

I can see the wandering eyes, especially from Maggie and Jesus, as Daryl and I greet each other awkwardly at the gate every time that he stops by, sharing a weird and uncomfortable side hug. It's weird to answer questions about the baby and our future especially when there was never an intended future between us. We were having fun- a bit too much fun- and now we're stuck with something that'll bond us together forever.

It's not the worst idea of a life for me, but to him? To him it's probably comparable to prison.

We've been friends since his old group found me at the quarry, broken and scared as can be. He was strong and protective, something and someone that I found comfort in and he found the same in me. We didn't actually start sleeping with each other till we settled in Alexandria and realized how much more we could actually find in one another. It was more than sex- it was comfort and passion in an otherwise pretty cold and unforgiving world.

"W-Well who is she to you? She takes up a lot of time and energy with our doctor, barely pulls her weight-" Gregory starts but I hear Daryl grunt under his breath and the hair on my neck sticks up, my eyes fluttering shut to hear their words through the wooden door.

"She ain't n0thing special to me- a friend." My heart drops, my eyes opening as my whole body droops in disappointment, my frown deepening as I continue to listen. "That's all. If you need the man power, I'm willin' to help out. Jus' stop giving her trouble." There's still a sense of protectiveness in his voice, regardless of the friend zone that he just put me in, and in fills me with the same sense of comfort, knowing that he'll always have my back when I need it.

Suddenly, the door creaks open and I trip into it, sending me into the room and down onto my knees in front of the two men. I look up at them, winded, with a bashful smile, trying to think of a way to get me out of this without telling the two of them that I was eavesdropping.

But there's no getting out of it, especially when Gregory just scoffs and Daryl's head tips back with a small smirk on his lips. He knows full well that I would never just let two men decide my fate in where I live and what I do, especially if it's revolving around a pregnancy that I could've done nothing to control.

"I was eavesdropping but only because I hate men talking about me behind my back." I force myself to my feet, holding the underside of my belly as neither men make any move to help me to my feet. I frown at the both of them, watching Gregory just fall back into his seat with a small sigh.

"I'll talk with Maggie and Jesus. Maybe they can shift your skills elsewhere, somewhere other than the garden." Gregory mutters before waving Daryl and I off, silently shooing us out of his office. I watch Daryl hesitantly as we step out of the office and into the privacy of the hall and I don't waste a moment before speaking my mind.

"Why do you feel the need to specify we're just friends?" I ask with a small pout and his back stiffens visually at the comment, his hand reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, my eyes following his every move.

"Gregory ain't gotta know our business. Doesn't matter what he thinks." He shrugs simple, taking a step closer to me as my chin tilts to gaze up at him through my lashes, still, a disappointed frown on my lips.

"Are we just friends?" I ask nervously, swaying on my swollen feet as Daryl laughs a bit under his breath, hair falling in his eyes as he shakes his head.

"You havin' my kid, aren't you?" He asks and I nod, my hands still soothing over my aching stomach, catching the way his eyes flutter down to look at my hands. "Then how 'bout you answer that question." He whispers, voice comfortingly low as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine.

"I'd say we're more than friends." I chuckle, thinking back to all the times that we've passed the line of typical friends and how quickly we've slipped back into just being and acting like friends for the sake of those around us.

"Then we're more than friends." He shrugs simply, as if I just clarified our whole relationship in one simple sentence, defining our relationship as 'more than friends' which would be obvious to anyone paying the slightest bit of attention to the two of us. "Don't know where you got the idea that I've got any say or any opinions about this." He laughs, reaching out to pat my stomach gently before pressing a gentle kiss to my temple as he makes his way past me. "You're in charge."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht @savageneversaw

#daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fic

[cloudninetonine]

I LOVE anon’s idea of Player being a sort of guardian Angel type figure! The absolute audacity of unseen forces tearing away their one true shred of hope in their bleak world, and then having their minds wiped squeaky clean of their existence? Even more brutal than the OG chain.

Here’s that but with only one of the evil boys

—

The crackling light from the fire danced at the edge of Link- Hyrule’s vision. He had turned his back to the flames in favor of staring at you, their little prisoner, you who had decided to sleep as far away as possible from the campfire to stay away from at least (as some slept far off, not trusting their team members) the bulk of their ragtag group.

He narrowed his gaze, dark circles pronouncing themselves as they crinkled under the weight of his sneer.

Hyrule had asked for first watch that night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get much sleep after a few things- regarding his… wingless condition- got brought up by yourself.

It wasn’t something he wanted any of his peers to be privy to, the more knowledge they had of him the more they could exploit. It was your fucking fault they even knew that he had a fairy form. At the very least, they didn’t know it wasn’t just his magic, and that he had actual fairy blood.

He grumbled as you shivered, curling in on yourself with your thin blanket. With a slight glance Hyrule noted that everyone was asleep, his keen sense of hearing confirming their even breaths, aside from the occasional flutter due to frequent night terrors.

Quietly, he stood, slowly moving across the dry, dead grass. He squatted beside you, hunching over you with a disgruntled countenance.

“I’m sure that dark creature won’t mind you having a blemish or two…” He whispered, pulling out his sword. “Just one little cut, a bit of discomfort to start your tomorrow with, think of it as a warning to leave my past in the past.”

Despite your slumbering state not being able to process his words to their fullest meaning, you shifted in a show of slight fear, lip quivering as sweat began to bead down your face. Your breathing kicked up a notch, and you began to mumble.

“Shh, can’t have you moving now, I might make a mistake, and the wound may be… a bit bigger than wanted.” He tried to gently put a hand on your shoulder to quiet your movements, which worked, but in response your mumbles turned to words.

“Link… Link it’s okay…” You muttered, faced creased in worry.

The sound of his real name sent a slight shudder down his spine. It shouldn’t even phase him, you were dreaming of those other versions of them, of him, it shouldn’t effect him at all.

“Link- Link you don’t need to fly… you’re still perfect to me…” Now that surprised him.

The other… the other him still had his wings, given what you had said today. Why would you be dreaming up such a scenario?

In his hesitation, his wrist was touched. He startled, noticing your hand gingerly grasping it. Despite himself, he felt no need to pull away, no burning rage at the sudden touch, no coursing fear that he had been caught and this was it.

“I’ve got you, I can’t hold you, but know that I’ve got you…” You whispered, wiggling closer to him despite being unconscious.

A numb film drenched his brain as his limbs seized up, goosebumps from the night’s chill melted back into his skin as sense of feeling drove away for comfort, and a wave of memory crashed over him-

“I’ve got you- it’s okay Link, I’m here.” You rapidly whispered to him, a warm brush caressing his cheek.

He pressed his knees further against him, sobbing violently into his legs. “T-they’re GONE! They clipped them gone! I-I didn’t e-even get a choice!”

He had slipped into his fairy form after jumping onto a desk so that he could drop into a small drawer, unable to simply fly up and into it like he normally could.

“I’m not even a fairy anymore, am I? What kind of fairy doesn’t have wings?” He cried, fruitlessly wiping at his red eyes.

“The one I hold dearly, Link.” It was like gentle tendrils of warm, golden mist curled around his legs, arms, hands, wrists, and entire body. A shield made of love and support in his dark world.

He hiccuped, “That’s stupid.”

You hummed, twirling your gentle feelings through his hair, like fingers carding through his wild locks. “Not to me it isn’t, not to me.”

Hyrule blinked furiously, tears marring his face. He pulled his hands away from you, throwing his sword as far as possible from your vulnerable body, it fell silently in the grass nearby.

He looked down at you in a whole new light, eyes sparkling as more and more came back to him. The noise of crickets and owls buzzed out of his hearing as you became the only thing in the world that mattered, the only thing he cared about.

Oh- wow, oh gee- you were even lovelier in person. How did he not realize that? How could he not realize that? How come he didn’t remember you? You were all he cared for, fought for!

No wonder he couldn’t remember where he found the motivation to keep moving, keep alive, keep going even when he craved death over all else. You were what kept him going- living! If not for you he wouldn’t even be here, he would’ve been dead if not for you.

You were right here, in front of him, and he had almost harmed you.

Hyrule scrambled back, not trusting his own hands. He had almost wounded his light, his wonder, his world. All for what? Your horror over his well being? Stupid stupid! He couldn’t, he couldn’t conceive the idea of ever hurting you-!

‘They might,’ a piece of him whispered. ‘They’ve already drawn weapons against them, threatened them, scared them’.

He looked back at the group, sleeping not-so-soundly as nightmares attacked their minds.

He could kill them now, just one little slice to the throat and they’d be too busy choking to scream, just one little slice…

‘They wouldn’t like it thought, they’d feel even more disgusted by you…’ a small part of his brain mumbled, referring to you.

But who cares? You wouldn’t be awake to know it was him. Besides, even if you had guarded the rest as well, you clearly didn’t recall. You hadn’t remembered him, given your surprise over his wings, so what reason would you remember the rest? If you hated them as much as you currently hated him, then it’d be a damn blessing that they had all mysteriously died in the night.

He has never been happy once in his life, and here was his happiness, sleeping on the floor, in danger. It didn’t matter that the rest may soon recall like Hyrule, or like your goody two shoes versions of them, couldn’t he be selfish just this once? Doesn’t he deserve to be selfish by now?

‘You once promised them a world where everything was better, you know…’

“…”

‘You said to be better, things would have to get better, and now, with these… people like you… that’s possible…’

“…”

‘If you’re selfish about this… will your guardian miss out on happiness too…?’

“…What if they hand them over before then…?” He whispered out loud to himself in abject horror, looking back at your rising and falling chest, needing reassurance that you were still breathing and alive.

‘…’

‘…Then we’ll cut, and cut, and cut, until their are no more pieces left…’

—

Inspiration hits when it hits, and it hit fucking hard.

I just want them all to cuddle and kiss and smooch and THESE VILLAINS ARE BAD, WHY DO I LOVE THEM SO MUCH?!?!

(I chose Hyrule because his OG counterpart was the first as well hehe)

ALSO! Do the villains and yanderes go by their new nicknames or by by the same ones? Or is stuff like ‘Conflict’ and ‘Shards’ and ‘Abyss’ out of world stuff? Or maybe later things? I need to know, it makes writing much harder not knowing

OIWEFHPIUERGRI FUCKING LOVING THIS LIKE USUAL BB, IT'S FUCKING AMAZING

#cloud answers #bloodybloob #BB

[octochick]

Biggest regret

Cw suicidal thoughts and attempt, blood, ooc

It was raining. Maybe it was surprising, or maybe not. It doesn't really matter.

Bagi's shoes squelched in the mud, dripping with water and blood. She walks, dodging the fallen bodies, white stained with a vivid red and the ashen mud.

She knows what she is looking for. It is right there, laying down in the mud. Dumb ass, that tank top is white, he'll never be able to get the stains out. At least use something darker, stupid head.

She squats next to him. Now, more than ever, she can feel every single raindrop falling on her. It rolls down her face, mixing with her tears, and fall warmly on the cold ground.

"Hey, can you walk?" She asks, shaking him lightly. He clenches his fists, but otherwise doesn't react.

Still, she gets him up. She puts one of his arms around her neck, and hugs his body onto hers. She starts dragging him, at first slowly as she carries the weight of two, but soon after faster, when he gets tired of being dragged.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll get a cold if you stay in the rain. I'm just taking you to somewhere with cover."

A second, just enough for him to comprehend her words, and then she was thrown to the mud, back connecting with a sharp rock with a sharp crack, one of her hands perforated by a knife and the wrist of the opposite hand broken, a silent scream trying to get out. He is over her, eyes maniac, giggles escaping from his lips.

"Why?"

"...I don't want you to get a cold." She answers, like it makes all the sense in the world.

He laughs, cruel and cold, and twists the knife in her hand. A whimper escapes her.

"When I needed you, you went to the other side, but now you come to me like nothing happened? What are you planning? Do you think I'm stupid?"

A small silence is settled over them. She looks at his eyes. Desperation.

"Yeah, a little bit." His knee meets with her shin, but she doesn't feel anything.

"Aren't you afraid of dying? Why did you suddenly decide to play with the monster?"

If possible, her eyes gets even more teary, fat tears rolling down her face and falling into her ears, making everything feel blurry and muffled, the pain dulling into the background from the pain her heart released upon her.

"You are my biggest regret." This somehow manages to surprise him, the emotion passing by in a second before being hidden by a scowl, but before he could talk, Bagi continued. "I love you so much," her voices breaks, and her breath comes out in small bursts. It feels like hyperventilation. "the only thing I want is for you to have a happy and healthy life, but you are my biggest regret."

"Since you disappeared, you are my biggest regret. You don't understand how much I love you, all I want is to see you happy and healthy, but you also don't understand how deep my regret is."

"Since the first day without you, I wanted to forget you, I wished you were never born. I wished I were never born."

"But I love you so much, that I kept searching. No matter how much my regret said that I should give up, I still kept going."

"You don't know how many times I wished to have been a single child. You have no idea how many times I wished I was dead. You have no idea how many times I thought of going to the Federation and asking them to forget everything about myself, to be reborn just like you once were."

"But I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't!"

"Because I love you. I hate it, but I love you."

It was silent. Bagi felt faint, like she would pass out at any moment. She couldn't see what face her brother was making.

"I'm weak. I suffered so much less than you, and I'm so weak. I'm so weak, that I can only beg to my biggest regret."

"Please, kill me. Kill me permanently, kill my regrets and my love, please, kill me and free me from my suffering. I'm weak and can't take it anymore."

Bagi was long hyperventilating, violent sobs wrecking her as she finishes ranting, but just now she closed her eyes.

A moment of suspense, and she felt knife's edge at her throat. She sobs, and her blood drowns her. She feels it in her lungs as they desperately try to work, she feels the rain, she feels her broken spine, she feels her stabbed hand, she feels her broken wrist, and she doesn't feel her brother hovering over her dying body.

The moment her body gives up is the moment she respawns.

And she doesn't feel nothing.

It didn't work. She's still alive. Her love is still alive. Her regret is still alive.

#qsmp #qsmp bagi #qsmp cellbit #bagi #cellbit #shirowritezs #this is probably not very good but i needed to vent #the anxiety was killing me

[aeoki]

Tri-Lights - The Tower: Chapter 5

Location: Ice Rink Characters: Sora, Natsume, Tsumugi & Madara

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< A few hours later. >

Tsumugi: W–Woah…

Look at me – I can skate again!

Sora: Haha~ You’re looking a lot better than when we first arrived!

Natsume: It looks like your knees are still buckliNG, but I guess you’re doing an okay joB.

Madara: Yup. Well done, Tsumugi-san. I see you’ve regained your skills.

Tsumugi: Yes. It’s all thanks to you, Mikejima-kun.

I still can’t skate as well as the others, but I feel a bit more confident now that I can skate on my own.

Natsume: I suppose this would mark the very first step in finally being able to draw out our sporty sidES.

AlrigHT, let’s take a break for noW.

Sora and I bought some snacks while you two were skatiNG.

Sora: HiHi~♪ You’ll get hungry after moving around so much, right? Let’s fill our bellies and skate more afterwards!

Tsumugi: Oh, when did you buy all these…?

Madara: It seems you were so focused on your skating you hadn’t realised they’d left to get them.

They did call out to us when they were about to get off the ice, but you must have been having quite a good experience for you to be so focused.

Sora: Yes, Senpai was super concentrated! That should be very helpful in demonstrating the sporty side to “Switch”~♪

Tsumugi: I suppose so. I hope I can make good use of my experience here for our performanc–

Woah… I ended up losing my balance when I lost focus.

Let’s share our findings as we eat. I’d like to hear your perspectives as well, Natsume-kun, Sora-kun.

I’d be happy if we can find things that can help us discover a new side to us.

Natsume: AlrigHT, now that we’ve all warmed up with a hot driNK…

Let’s share what we gained through this ice skating experienCE. You can start firST, Senpai.

Tsumugi: Umm, I was able to skate again after continuously working hard at it without giving up.

That’s the same feeling idols have when performing, right?

We want to be better and to make our fans happy – The hard work we desperately put in doesn’t feel difficult if we keep those things in mind.

Maybe trying to become a better version of your past self and living up to those expectations is what makes sports so appealing.

Natsume: I suppose that’s an acceptable answER. I’ll give you a passing scoRE.

Was there anything else you feLT? Like any movements you think that could be used for the performanCE?

Tsumugi: Hmm. I don’t think I thought that far. I was able to regain the basic feeling of weight shifts and my sense of balance, but I didn’t think much about them apart from the fact that they could be used in our dance.

Madara: In other words, you were able to gain a skill, but you weren’t able to understand how an athlete would feel. Is that right?

Tsumugi: Yes, I suppose so. I did enjoy the actual ice skating, though…

Sora: That’s true. Senpai’s “colour” feels calm and peaceful.

It’s hard for Sora to explain the “colours” Sora sees, but people who do sports feels more dazzling, like they’re full of life~

Natsume: I don’t know if it’s because you’ve neglected your own health every day and it’s gotten worSE, but you don’t have enough vigoUR, Senpai. Something might feel different if you have more of a fighting spirIT.

Sora: HuHu~! That’s a great idea!

Something might change if you get your fighting spirit on and then perform! Can you show us?

Tsumugi: What!? That’s impossible!

It’s true motivation is important, but I think it would be hard to intentionally change the “colour” Sora-kun sees.

Natsume: HmPH. You’re saying you can’t do what Sora asked of yOU?

Sora took a courageous step forward and decided to challenge himself with something new and yET, you won’t even show an example despite having lots of experienCE? I think that’s downright cruEL.

Sora and I are filled with sadness seeing how unreliable you aRE.

Tsumugi: O–Okay. I’ll do it so stop trying to guilt-trip me…! It can be pretty painful mentally!

Natsume: GreAT. I see you still have the ability to feel paIN, Winter Mophead.

Tsumugi: What’s with that name!? Anyway, of course I feel pain~!

Oh, geez. Which of your remarks should I be commenting on!?

Madara: Hahaha. I’m having a good time just watching “Switch” get along so well ♪

But what Sora-san said about being full of life and a “dazzling” feeling is true. I also felt that it was somewhat lacking.

Maybe we should check and see if Tsumugi-san can show Sora-san that “colour”.

Tsumugi: Check…? I guess so. Alright, please watch me.

♪  ♪  ♪

♪~♪~

…H–How was that? Did my “colour” change, Sora-kun?

Sora: Hmm~ It still looks like a calm “colour”~

Sora can feel Senpai’s kindness and it’s a lovely “colour”, but Sora doesn’t think the person from the company would be happy with that.

No. It’s not just Senpai but Sora and Master too…

Sora doesn’t think we can show something “realistic that refines yourself and makes you shine” just yet~

Natsume: HmM. That means there is still room for improvemeNT.

What should we dO? Should we have another think about it after doing other sporTS…?

Tsumugi: Yes~ There are a lot of different types such as track and field or ball sports. That might be a good idea.

Madara: Right. I think it’s important to enjoy the sports you’re doing.

You begin wanting to challenge yourself with something more difficult because you enjoy doing it. Putting in all the hard work without an ounce of love would just be suffering.

Sora: HeHe~ That’s the same as video games and parkour for Sora~♪

Sora likes going for high scores and aiming higher and further for new parkour routes…

Maybe we’re getting further and further away the more we think about it.

Tsumugi: It’s just like the “bluebird of happiness” story. Buf if that’s the case, it would be very difficult to show a new side of “Switch”.

What would be the perfect environment that would make us want to genuinely improve ourselves…? 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

#tri-lights

[xoxoauntscripty]

Hiya! I know you don't work in EMS anymore but I was wondering, do you have any tips for someone hoping to get into the field? I've been interested in emergency response pretty much forever (see: since about six) and I'm now in college and eyeing the EMT course with an ultimate goal of paramedic. Thanks for all you did on ScriptMedic over the years, it's a goldmine for both writers and medically interested peeps! I love clicking through the archives and reading everything, it's such a great resource.

Happy new year!

Hey! I'm going to give you the unsexiest advice you will ever get, but it's all things I wish someone had drilled into my head before I started:

The money will suck. The money will ALWAYS suck. It will probably suck more over time, because I've never ever had raises that kept up with inflation. That may not matter to you now but may matter A LOT down the road. And if that's something you can't live with, choose another path NOW.

Take care of your body. Lift weights. Do push ups. Maintain a healthy weight. Your career length depends on your body.

Never, ever, EVER lift with your back - ALWAYS with your knees. I've seen too many careers end from back injuries.

People will be ASSHOLES to you more often than you can possibly believe, and you will have no recourse but to sit there and take it.

No patient can be as abusive as the system.

EMS is, above all else, a customer service job. That means you will need SO MANY soft skills you probably won't have yet. Diplomacy. Getting along with people who won't shut up about topics you hate. Working with jerks or people who don't care about the job the way you do. Putting up with abuse.

EMS training will make you believe the job is supposed to be about intervening in life and death events. This will make up about 1% of your calls. The other 99% isn't a waste of time but it can feel like it if you lie to yourself that your job is about saving lives. (It's not.)

You won't necessarily be broken by the times you try to help and failed. You WILL be broken by the BS admin in the system. By knowing there's a better way and not being able to behave that way.

Your job is not to fix anything, your job is to try. Set your standards of 'I did better than last time.' Because the chances to make real lasting interventions are VERY rare.

Most of the time the most value you can bring to a situation is kindness and compassion. It's also the first thing you want to abandon when you're tired, exhausted, and overwhelmed. This is the hardest work.

Me, before We, before Them, but only in an emergency.

ABC - Ambulate Before Carry.

Mindset, mindset, mindset. Decide who you want to be and what values you want to live by. Because you can survive mistakes, loss, horror, violence, ANYTHING, and live with yourself after, if you can honestly tell yourself you lived by your value system.

Get comfortable with the idea that you will see more death, disease, and horror than any of your non first responder friends. That means it will be hard to talk about what you see. Don't talk about the WHAT, talk about how it makes you feel - "This call made me feel really sad and helpless", not "We went to this house and did CPR and...". Learn how to transmit your experience without transmitting details that keep people trying to understand rather than listening to your experience.

Make a point to seek out and celebrate the good. "Today I was nice to someone who no one has been kind to in a while." "Today I got to help a mom who was really worried about coming home to her kids." "I got to help people sleep easier knowing someone like me was out there for them." Because the negative stories - abuse and hate and neglect and sorrow and loss and pain and fear and just plain exhaustion - those stories are POWERFUL. Counter them on purpose.

If you're hoping helping enough people will make you feel like a Good Worthwhile Person.... It won't. That's one of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn. Liking yourself doesn't depend solely on doing good things.

Learn something from every call, even if it's something tiny.

Ask old people about their lives when you can. They're fascinating, and usually pretty neglected.

Ask happy married people how to make it work. They love it and you'll love them for it.

Fall in love with your patients, just a little bit.

Your coworkers will fall into 3 categories: naive, burned-out, and burned-in. Aim to be the last, and be VERY careful what you learn from the other 2 groups.

You can learn as much from a partner you can't stand as you can from one you love. Learn who you want to be, AND who you don't.

Learn motivational interviewing. Your job will be SO MUCH EASIER.

Get a shrink BEFORE you start, and ignore anyone who thinks you "shouldn't need help" coping with what you'll see and experience. Seriously. Your mental health matters even more than your physical health.

That's about all I can think of.

I can't in good conscience recommend EMS as a career, but don't let that stop you from following your heart and your dreams.

And if nothing else, you will learn SO MUCH about groups other people ignore - the sick, the elderly, the disabled, the homeless, the lonely. Listen to them. Learn from them. Be with them.

Good luck.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[starlightsoulwriting]

Ghost-Blood//Revenant: 4

Khonshu, Marc Spector, Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

AO3

other chapters

Rating: PG-13/T, for cursing and later violence

Warnings: None

Summary: A calm before the storm.

A/n: Ice skating Steven lives in my head rent free now and I’ll make it everyone else’s problems. I just think he deserves it.

“Steven I’m going to fall, I swear to god.” Your voice strained against the bounds of your throat from the uncertainty in your mind, and the chill in the air around you, heartbeat fast in your ribs. You hated the cold. You hated ice, almost as much as you hated cars and large bodies of water. You swallowed. This sucked, this fucking suck, what the fuck were you thinking? “Why did I think this was a good idea?” You breathed, knees wobbling over the ice skates underneath you. “Who the fuck decided this was fun.”

The cold of the room bit stinging patches into your cheeks as your hands clutched the outer railings tight, looking straight forward at Steven, who wasn’t taking your grumbling personally at all, both of you ignoring the other people passing by as they continued on their fun, somehow staying upright despite the fact that they had knives strapped to their fucking shoes.

“Even if you fall, I’ll help you back up, yeah?” Steven smiled wide, wrapped up in a light blue Columbia sweater you’d stolen from your old room-mate, who’d stolen it from her boyfriend, and that now Steven had stolen from you, not seeming to mind the way the sleeves hung over his hands. “And if you still decide you hate it, we can just go for a walk in the park instead.”

He reached out for your hands, slowly prying them from the rails, and started skating backwards to lead you around the rink. He was graceful on the ice, somehow, even if he fell on his face on solid, normal pavement. How the hell did that work?

And you’d let him talk you into this, because he enjoyed it. Even though you were terrified, breathing shallow as you slowly started skating forward on uncertain legs.

“See, it’s not that bad, innit?” He said after a moment of you awkwardly shuffling forward with him practically pulling you along, your hands claiming at his wrists.

“Just wait until I fall and get a bloody nose from this, Grant.” You hissed, eyes on the ground. “Just what I need when Doctor Jackson comes back from his dig tomorrow.”

“You would still be beautiful.” Steven squeezed your hands encouragingly, something you’d grown to appreciate deeply being able to see him in person again after four months long distance. “Jackson wont know what hit him either way.”

You gave him a deadpan stare, and blinked. “I was more concerned about having to work on painkillers, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

But then he beamed at you with that laugh, and your heart swelled, thrumming to a steady rhythm of gooey emotion. He let go of your right hand but held onto your left, still, and moved so he skated beside you rather than in front, now that you had a bit of confidence on your feet.

Even though you were absolutely holding him back from his real fun, being dead weight and all.

“There you go!” He squeezed your hand again, and you warmed despite the cold of the room. “You are doing so well, love.”

Love. An endearment he used often, but still made your insides squiggly every time.

“Yup.” You forced out and almost fell, but Steven’s hold on you never faltered. “They should put me on the olympic team. Can’t waste my talents.”

“Oh yeah, it wouldn’t even be fair.” He nudged you with his shoulder, forcing you to spin your other arm out in awkward flailing circles to keep your balance with an embarrassing squeak. “They’d have to invent a new medal and everything.”

“Yeah?” You quirked your lips into a smile. “What would that be? Platinum?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the cutest, most brilliant competitor ever seen, but platinum works just as well, I suppose.”

“Oh my god.” You stopped yourself halfway to a snort of laughter, grabbing ahold of his arm proper as you doubled over in an undignified fit. “You’re so fucking corny I can’t believe this.”

“All a part of the Grant signature charm. Just - just gets me all the ladies.” He had to hold back a laugh as he said it, and it was just about the best sound in the world. He’s so fucking cute.

You giggled, ducking your head and looking away.

But then your foot hit the ice wrong, sending you reeling, grabbing onto Steven tighter, but all that managed to do was drag him down onto the ice with you, landing you both flat on your ass with a smack, and your breath left you all at once and panic seized through you for no discernable reason.

Ow.

Steven didn’t look bothered in the least, smiling through what was surely a painful landing, and looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky despite the fact you’d just made him crash and burn.

You huffed, heart squeezing tight in your chest, squeezing his arm for support as you stood back up. “Alright, ladies man, I think I’ve earned some hot chocolate, you coming?”

“Of course.”

---

That night you dreamt of ice, the kind that comes in thick sheets that you can skate on, and that was exactly what you were doing, laughing with someone else as the bracing wind blew through your pretty dark hair.

Had your hair always looked like this? Well, in the dream it had, even though you were certain something about it was incorrect, if it was the color that was throwing you, or the texture or length.

Still, the you in the dream didn’t ponder the state of your hair, simply enjoying the way the snow blew past you and to the trees beyond, gathering speed as you careened toward an untouched section of ice, farther and farther away from the boy behind you, laughing all the way, eager to practice the jumps you’d been practicing back at the real rink back in town.

You leaped.

But you landed wrong, your ice skate crashing through the ice and causing the surface to shatter, leaving you with just a split second view of panicked blue eyes on the boy’s face before you fell into the freezing water.

In the shock of it all, you inhale water into your lungs, the white-hot burn of the cold hitting your whole body at once.

There was no Knight to even try to save you, this time.

You wake with a start, not even able to be comforted by Steven’s presence. It was still too soon to move in, and he was too afraid to sleep around you, anyway…

You sighed, sitting up and ducking your head between your knees.

Was it too much to ask that one of you get a decent night’s fucking sleep, for once?

---

Arthur Harrow was a busy man. Working to build a better world made certain of it - between the smaller aspects of helping the community, and the larger ones of finding the scarab that would lead to Ammit’s tomb.

As such, delegating was necessary.

Although now he somewhat regretted assigning this task to someone who he only spoke to once a month - Emmet really was a lovely man, but perhaps he took instruction too literally at times.

“I have an update on that curator you told me to keep an eye on.” They handed him a tablet, and he read through it absently as he gardened.

“That’s not -” He stopped himself mid-sentence before he got into the finer details of art conservatorship again, closing his eyes for a split second and shook his head. It didn’t matter one way or another what your exact title was, so he went back to reading, and then stilled. “She’s moved to London.”

How strange. She seemed attached to New York.

“And she’s working with Jackson.” Emmet added just as Arthur got to that point in the only two-paragraph long update he’d written.

Jackson. Arthur recognized the name - he presided over some of the dig sites that had the best chance of containing the scarab, if it was still buried.

It was precisely the kind of person someone working for Khonshu would want to get close to. Added with the sudden move, and the way Khonshu had insisted he save you - singled you out, even going so far as to open a portal and risk the attention of the others so he could pull you out of the flaming car before you burned all those years ago - well, that made a very clear picture in his mind as to what was going on.

Peculiar that Khonshu would pick someone with no fighting experience. But perhaps that wasn’t the kind of help the god needed at the moment.

“Call Doctor Jackson’s assistant,” Arthur looked to Emmet. “Let them know I’ll be stopping by to donate to their collection.”

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #khonshu x reader #x reader #fanfiction #my writing #reader insert #ghost-blood

[madllamamomma]

To all that it may concern:

Hi. It’s me, ya Mad Llama Momma.

Yes. It’s been a very long time, and I am sorry.

Since the start of this year I have been unfortunately going through, well, a lot. Mentally and physically.

Now that I am where I am today, in January of 2023, I see that I was at an all time low and just didn’t know it. 2022 was a year of me kick staring my healing journey of my mind, body and soul. And let me tell you it has NOT been easy. Between new multiple physicians and even going through two therapist (holistic therapy was kinda a joke for me personally), a liver surgery scare, coming to realized that I had an eating disorder, and stopped drinking because of said liver surgery scare, it has been a fucking exhausting year. (Note: I had a kind of contusion on my liver from some unknown trauma 🤷‍♀️. Yeah, my doctor didn’t even have a clue.)

Turning 30 also was very mind boggling to me, and I literally mourned my 20s for almost half the year and was crying about the fact I wasn’t where I thought I’d be by now.

I wanted to be knee deep in a blossoming career and making the world brighter and better. As last month, I officially quit my job and do not have plan to go back to the medical field at all.

I wanted to be wearing a size 12-14 and somewhat fit. But I’m currently a size 22 and the biggest and most out of shape and unhealthy that I’ve ever been.

I wanted to be a mother by now. But due to my overall health, it just wasn’t in the cards at that point.

I feel like all of our young lives we are told that we are supposed to be in a certain place by a certain age or we are failures, freeloaders, lazy, etc. But I’m coming to terms that this isn’t true and that 20s aren’t the official end of my fun youth nor the end of my life.

This entire year also sparked something in me. Sometimes we need to think hard about where we are at in our lives and evaluate if it was even worth it. Sometimes, things happens and makes us question who we really are and makes us think if we really are truly happy.

I realized I was using the Arcana and my fanfics to heavily disassociate and a way for me to escape our crazy world and in a very unhealthy way. It was great when it was working, but when it wasn’t, all my depression and anxiety came flooding in without any remorse, and I couldn’t even muster myself to write anymore despite having so many ideas.

I am happy to say that I’ve been in regular therapy session, I started ceramics again (where I make a lot of crazy sub par mugs and other functional pottery), my liver is almost all the way healed, I started back to yoga, and I’ve been losing weight safely for my health.

After being restricted all of my young life, I am feeling like I have been able to be my most authentic self than I have ever been and I feel like for the first time in my life, and I am finally thriving. I was afraid of entering my 30s feeling lost and feeling bad that I wasn’t a hot young 20 something year old, but instead I’m entering an era where I am focusing on me. And it feels great. It feels amazing.

I have a lovely husband who is my best friend and soulmate and that loves me and supports me, I have a wonderful set of found family that loves me for me and never ask me to change or to be anyone else other than myself, I feel like I can be creative without being restricted. And it feels great. I’m figuring myself out and I am so happy I am able to do it.

(TL;DR) For all the people out there who feels stuck, who feel like they can’t be themselves, who feel like nothing is ever going to change—please just know, it does get better. People are out there to help you, people who want you to be your best self. Sometimes it takes medication, sometimes it takes lengthy therapy sessions, sometimes it takes putting up boundaries with your family and limited the time you spend with them, and sometimes it takes just you admitting that you need help.

Please don’t give up on your healing journeys even if you family doesn’t support you. Please don’t think you are alone.

Please. Please. Do not give up.

Happy New Years my lovely hungry trash pandas,

❤️

Your Mother Llama.

#the arcana #the arcana game #madllamamomma #the real life #happy new year #get motivated #get help #please share #love your momma llama

[magdaclaire]

i don’t know nothing (and that’s fine)

the long awaited 7k magdaclaire fic | title is from knowledge by green day

"Do you know where I was when Sam and Dean had to bring me back?" she asks, almost not waiting for the beat of silence she would leave in a typical conversation, waiting for a response; she doesn't expect a response from Magda. No one ever really does. Magda, rarely one to do as others expect of her, focuses her gaze on Claire for a moment before Claire loses her gaze to the wall again.

"No idea," she says, though her tone doesn't give much to indicate that she cares. Claire presses on anyway.

"Got napped while working a case I didn't tell Alex or Jody about. Almost died. Now, nobody will let me out of their goddamned sight," Claire summarizes poorly, shrugging her shoulders as if it's not a very big deal. Her hands are tucked behind her back to make sure that they don't shake. Magda frowns.

"Is there an insinuation here that we have comparable situations? Is that why you brought it up? Because-" she starts, but Claire shakes her head, hands whipped out to be held up, placating.

"No, dude!" she exclaims, then continues, "You went through a lot of shit. I'm not trying to- like- compare anything, or play Trauma Olympics with you or anything, it's just that sometimes it's easier to talk to people about your own shit if you already know some of theirs. Equal exchange, you know? Not that you have to say anything, so we're clear. Free rights kinda house around here, Peterson," Claire jokes, catching the way that Magda flinches at the sound of her own surname. Okay, noted. Never fucking calling her that again. Abusive fuckheads.

"My Mama- I killed two people with my mind. But even before that, my Mama thought I was the devil. Because I can do things. Hurt her with my mind on accident, and it's like- she never looked at me the same. Decided all at once I wasn't her daughter anymore. One accident, and I was done. I still can't really control it. That's why I don't want anyone in here. So if you don't mind," Magda says, very clearly dismissing Claire in her quiet Iowan accent. Claire sits down on top of Magda's clear-topped dresser, sure that it'll hold her weight. Magda has a mom that's nothing like Claire's- stayed around and lost her mind confronted with power, tried to lock it (lock her daughter) away so that she would never have to confront it again, didn't run away from responsibility like Claire's own mother, but tried to take the bull by the horns and make it into beef herself. She forgot that the beast was her daughter. Even having just met Magda, Claire'd be willing to break into her cell to remind her.

"Way it was told to me, you killed that social worker and that stock boy without them being in the room at all. If being alone now and just being safe is helping you, you're more than welcome to your alone time, but Magda, nobody is afraid of you just for having something you can't control. We've all been there," she says, her head dipped forward and her knees splayed apart. Her Mama never liked it when she left that space between her legs- Claire Elizabeth, you better keep an aspirin between your knees!- like Claire had even been old enough to have an interest in anybody by the time Mama took off. It's just how she's comfortable. Magda looks at her again, still real brief, but a wrinkle between her brows like she just can't help it, given her curiosity.

"What do you mean?" she asks, rubbing her fingertips along her wrist, and Claire's heels knock against the dresser. She came in here to help. That means talking about her shit too.

"The- uh- the hunt that Dean and Co picked me up from. Werewolf hunt. Got bitten. For most American hunters, it's pretty much a death sentence, if another hunter with you is willing to put you down. It was fucking scary is what it was," she says, not able to stop herself from being honest, words spilling out of her like water before she shores it up. Nothing like trying to help someone else that'll make you unpack your recently acquired trauma, or whatever the fuck. When she looks up, Magda is looking clean at her, no bullshit, no looking away, those big brown eyes deadlocked on Claire's. Claire clears her throat and makes herself continue. "Every day, nothing left in me anything but human, I still feel out of fuckin' control, Magda. Being that, I would rather have been put down. Every day, you are stronger for being alive. Don't let anybody take that from you."

Jesus Christ and all the apostles, somebody should put a muzzle on her. Who in God's good graces let her try and befriend the traumatized girl living in their house?

"You're very kind," Magda says, snapping Claire out of her head so fast she feels like she should get whiplash just from the emotional effect of it. Kind? That's sure as fuck a first. Claire takes a moment to process what Magda said, but then gives her a grin just a bit crooked, just a bit sardonic.

"I'm really not," she says, because she really isn't, and she doesn't really know how she made Magda think so. No one has ever made the misjudgement of character necessary to call her that, and never at such a short window of judgement that Claire feels she's barely had time to earn it at all. Magda, doing as Magda seems to tend to do when Claire says much at all, frowns.

"Alex has told me that you're a very guarded person, and yet you're in here telling me about something that seems to be very hard for you, in such a way that it seems to be because you believe it will help me. That is a very kind thing to do for a stranger, Claire," Magda says, her voice small and soft, but as level as it has been the entire time; it's the most Claire thinks anyone has heard her speak her entire stay. It hadn't occurred to her, however, that with Magda not speaking much, the others would be filling in the gaps.

"Alex told you about me?" she asks, the question coming out of her mouth before she can hold it back, a bit more impulsive than she means to be.

"Did you think no one spoke to me til you came back?" Magda asks, and there's a little bit of a teasing lilt to her voice, her eyebrow raised, and oh no. Jesus alive. Does she have to be pretty too? Superpowers wasn't enough. Jesus alive. Claire rolls her eyes, reminding herself to recover, to roll with the punches, as it were. As if. She's better in a fight than she is alone in a room with a pretty girl, isn't she?

"Well, all I've heard about is that you haven't said much, how was I supposed to know that it's because Alex has been running her mouth about me the whole damn time?" she says, rolling her eyes. Magda's wrinkled brow comes back something fierce.

"They told you I haven't talked much?" Magda asks, the curl of her curiosity trailing around her words. Claire raises an eyebrow at her, turning her exact expression from a moment ago back upon her.

"Did you think no one told me anything about the girl that moved in while I was gone?" she teases back, though she watches carefully as Magda's expression falls back into something carefully curated, something almost watched to it.

"How much I talk was relevant?" Magda asks, her voice back to that flatness she had when Claire first came in. Claire slides off the dresser, moving so that she can lean against the wall next to Magda's bed. Knowing that the animal (the girl, anything else, she won't be another person who takes humanity away from Magda Peterson) she's coming upon isn't entirely re-accustomed to people, she leaves a bit of distance between them, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Well, yeah, Mags," she says, her eyebrows creased as she tries to come up with a way to explain the dynamic that Jody has fostered in this house, the way that everyone just fucking cares all the time. "We care about how you're doing, you know- even me. You're not alone here. No one is gonna tell you what to do or how to do it, but someone is gonna care if you aren't talking or eating or even if you just need somebody to sit with you for a while, somebody around here is always gonna care about that. Jody, Alex, hell, come to me. If you need somebody or whatever. You don't have to stay in your room if you wanna come out," she says, and she tries not to stutter over her wording. It's always fucking coming out isn't it. She stops herself from adding anything else, yearning for her typical reticence where Magda's very existence seems to pull words out of her by the dozen.

Magda's face is turned down when Claire looks at her, and for a second she's a little worried. No need. "Mags," the other girl says to herself softly, and Claire's blush comes in hot across her nose.

"I give you an entire speech and you catch the part where I call you something that isn't your name? I can cut it out if you want," she says, eyes alright averted from Magda when Magda's hand darts out to grab her wrist, her fingertips gentle but cold.

"No! You. You can call me that. If you want," Magda says, her feet off the edge of the bed like she would have gotten up just to stop Claire from- from not calling her Mags anymore? And Claire can't stop the smile that spreads across her face.

"Sure, Mags. Whatever you want."

From there, Magda takes her at her word. This is the truth with Magda often, but it is especially true when Magda is in need of a person to talk to, in need of a hand to hold, in need of anything at all, because when she needs that, it is most often Claire that she finds. She comes out of her room with more and more regularity, til seeing her little dark hard peak down the hallway is more of a marker of breakfast being ready than an oddity in need of being investigated. The fact that Claire happens to follow where she goes is more a matter of her own embarrassment than a show of concern.

"Feel like you and Magda can detach for a bit so I can drag you to a store, or do I have to go by myself?" Alex asks, throwing herself onto the couch beside Claire completely without grace and additionally, completely without care. Claire doesn't know that she's ever met someone who was raised less like she was than Alex, knowing that this girl, her sister, basically functioned as a vampire juice box for her formative years makes Claire feel like she's got no room to complain about the bullshit she's muddled through. Between her and Magda, a girl could develop a complex. Speaking of Magda.

"Okay, first of all, Magda and me aren't attached, so detachment wouldn't be unnecessary anyway. But... why can't Magda come with us?" she asks, not at all because she hasn't left the house much since she came home from her werewolf hunt and met Magda, and most definitely not because she doesn't want Magda to need anything while she's gone. She doesn't even know if Mags has a phone! Alex rolls her eyes, but then her smile slips and she's just frowning at Claire like she's being a bit obtuse.

"Magda hasn't exactly left the house since she got here, Claire. I don't think she's gonna come to the store with us just because we ask," she says, her frown coming down even further until her mouth looks pursed, like how Claire's mom's would look sometimes when she was still around enough to worry about Claire. It makes her act quickly, wanting to take that look off of her sister's face.

"Hey Mags!" she calls to the other room, knowing Magda will be lingering in the library. That's where she said she would be anyway. Magda peaks her head out. Alex mouths Mags to herself silently. Everybody has something to say about what she calls Magda. Who cares? Magda likes it.

"Yes, Claire?" the girl herself asks, both of her hands on one side of the doorway of the library as she leans on it. She's so goddamn cute. Fuck.

"Wanna come to the store with us?" she asks, even though she doesn't even know why Alex wants to go to the store or what they're going for, and she hadn't even decided if she herself had wanted to go in the first place. Just the idea that Magda hasn't left the house since she got here is making her want to take the other girl on a drive that never ends, makes her want Magda on the wide open road, makes her want to see Magda in the sunshine. She doesn't know how it never occurred to her that she never had. Magda gives her a small smile.

"Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed?" she asks, tilting her head in the direction of her room. Claire grins.

"Sure, yeah," she says, and Magda nods, walking off. She's barely cleared the turn in the hallway before Alex grabs Claire's arm, startling her. She hadn't realized she had zoned in on Magda that hard. She turns to Alex.

"Dude, when did you guys get all buddy-buddy? I swear to God, do I work too much? Everybody else in this house needs a real job. I refuse to miss things," Alex says, her expression set in a deep frown, and Claire laughs. It's an ugly, giggle-snort sort of affair, half choked by Claire not wanting very much to laugh at all, but Alex is just so- the FOMO on some girls, you know? Sometimes, Alex is just so normal. It's the coolest thing about her.

"I talked to her as soon as I got home. You know we've been following each other around ever since. She's fun to have around," Claire says about Magda, though even she's not quite sure what she means by it. She's not really sure what's fun about Magda, except that it's every single thing about her- it's her scrunched up nose when she eats something with a texture she doesn't like, it's her twinkling-bell laughter when Claire says something that catches her off guard, it's the way she slips her hand into Claire's when they're watching movies together, like she just doesn't wanna go two hours not being able to touch her. It's not that anything that Magda does is particularly fun, but maybe rather that everything is more fun when it's done with her.

That's neither here nor there.

"Fuck, put shoes on, Magda is getting dressed. Can't still be sitting here when we're the ones who asked her to go somewhere," Alex says after a beat of silence, pushing Claire up off of the couch as if she can't move herself off it under her own steam. Man, they really don't tell you the risks, trials and tribulations related to acquiring an older sister in your late teens! Claire shoves Alex as they’re crossing the living room, just for fun.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Alex mutters under her breath. Claire grins.

"Ooooooh, I'm telling Jody, she said you're not allowed to threaten to kill me anymore. She's gonna give you that fucking face and you're gonna feel sooo bad about it," Claire says, thinking honestly about shoving Alex again, her laughter kept behind her teeth by the skin of them, when she's stopped short.

"What's Alex going to feel bad about?" Magda asks, her fingers wrapped around the polished amethyst hanging from her throat. The color purple suits her so well that it makes something stick in Claire's throat, some desperate kind of yearning that makes her feel stumbling and stupid, longing and lingering. She swallows past the effect of it, giving Magda her best smile.

"Just threatening to kill me, Mags, nothing major," she says, laughter wrapped around her teeth. Magda's eyebrows scrunch.

"I think that counts as major," she replies, concerned, and Alex groans.

"I'm not actually gonna kill her, Mags, it's like- a figure of speech, you know? 'Cause she's my little sister and she's annoying as hell? It's not an actual threat," Alex assures, not noticing as Magda's nose wrinkles when her nickname drops from Alex's mouth. Claire only notices because she looks at her so damn much, but she's not about to say anything about it. What's she supposed to say? You can't call her that? That's my nickname for her? She puts on her shoes quietly, almost missing when Magda next speaks.

"That's what Claire calls me, but I don't know if I'm comfortable with other people calling me that yet. That's okay, right?" Magda says, her words coming slow, difficult, and Claire wants to wrap herself around her, hold her in close. She knows that Magda can handle her own, can move shit with her mind, can do whatever the fuck she wants, but goddamn it, she shouldn't always have to look out for herself. Alex smiles at Magda with one of her exceptionally patient smiles, one of those ones she typically has on when she's in the Emergency Room, and she gives Magda a nod.

"Totally okay, Magda. You can be called whatever you want," she says, just the right mix of caring and encouraging, and Claire wishes she could fucking do that. She wishes she could just make people feel safe like Alex does, just slip into that persona that Alex has where people feel cared for, she wishes she knew what set of skills Alex developed to get that effect on people. Claire was never going to be a nurse- even if she had ended up normal, in her mother's dream hetero marriage with a couple of kids and if she had gotten to know her Dad instead of the Eldritch horror that wears his skin, working directly with people was never a part of her journey. When she was really little, she wanted to be a firefighter. An astronaut. Now, it doesn't feel like she would be able to do anything but exactly what she's doing right up until the gas runs out.

"To the store, shall we?" she asks her companions, yanking herself out of her head with great force. Magda gives her a small smile and nods, reaching out for Claire's hand. Claire gives it to her without any thought to the contrary, slipping her fingers between Magda's and dragging her out the door.

Magda and Alex's relationship continues to develop, though not as closely as Claire's own relationship with the younger girl; Magda still sticks to her like a burr on her worse days, more comfortable under Claire's arm than she seems to be anywhere else. Today is not one of Magda's worse days but Claire's, which, for some reason, makes Magda typically stick to her even more if Claire doesn't actually ask for alone time. Honestly, she doesn't even really want alone time right now. On days like today, when the guilt is rushing over and she's a stone beneath a rushing river's unforgiving current, maybe she doesn't have to be alone. Maybe laying on her bed with Magda is doable. Maybe.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Magda asks her when the sun is a bit too bright in the room, probably a little bit into the afternoon, and when they've been laying there for perhaps a little too long. It shouldn't bother her that Magda might not want to do exactly what they've been doing for the past two hours. It shouldn't make her chest hurt a little that Magda might want to go do something else; Magda spends more than half of her time in here, or wherever Claire is. It's cool if she wants to go when they're not even doing anything. "Just if you want to, Claire. We can just lay here," Magda says, contradicting every thought buzzing through Claire's head, and then she's grabbing Claire's hand on top of it, the weight of her fingers reassuring between her own.

Claire clears her throat, and yeah. Yeah, maybe she does want to talk about it. Can talk about it. With Magda.

"When Castiel-" she pauses, remembering that his name isn't carved into the internal dialogue of every girl with religious trauma from here to Texas, "the Winchesters' angel, I don't know if he was with them when they got you- when he came to Earth, he needed a vessel. A human strong enough to hold an angel, with strong enough faith to allow them in and allow them to stay." That's what the Winchester Gospels said about them anyway. Castiel just said that they needed to believe. They were special. Believers. Bullshit. "When Castiel came to Earth, he took my father. And then, when my father told him he couldn't stay anymore, Castiel approached me. Being a vessel, it's passed down in the family line. The blood. The body. All they need is the body. And I was a kid. He might as well have been God. So I said yes. And my father took him back. If you think about it, it's my fault that my dad is dead."

"You were a kid, Claire," Magda says, the words out of her mouth just after Claire is done with her own. She says it like it matters more than anything that damns Claire, like it is a virtue unalienable, like she shouldn't have known better. Claire doesn't catch herself before she squeezes Magda's hand, fingers tightening before nearly letting go entirely, embarrassed of the accident. She's not normally so skittish of Magda. Right now, it just feels like everybody is gonna fucking leave.

"I should have known better. What angel is gonna take a kid as a vessel? Of course he was trying to get my dad back. But I just fucking believed." It comes out nearly a sob, her free hand pulling at her hair trying to make her come back to her senses, and she's turning toward Magda before she knows what she's doing and Magda is pulling her over, pulling her in. Claire ends up mostly on top of the other girl, but she's not thinking much about it, her vision blurred with tears she hasn't let out since she was ten years old and moving in with her grandmother with little to no explanation from her mother. She never had a body to bury despite losing both her parents at once. There never was a funeral. There always was a mourner.

"It's okay, Claire. Whatever you need, baby. Whatever you need," Magda murmurs into her hair, and Claire shivers, because Jody cares for her but Claire nearly never lets her, and Alex loves her but it's not like they really hug, but Magda is holding her like she's worth the tear stains and Claire thinks she might crack apart if she lets her. She called her baby. A sob wracks Claire's chest.

"Magda," she says like it's ripped out of her, and Magda runs her hand along her back, her other hand buried in Claire's hair.

"Yeah, Claire, I'm here, it's okay," Magda whispers, pulling Claire even closer, close enough it feels like she could climb inside Magda's skin. Claire's face is pressed against Magda's shoulder and collarbone while Magda reaches behind her to fiddle around with something. It's only a second before Claire finds out what the other girl was doing, because the gray blanket she keeps laid out on her bed (which is the softest material she's ever felt and Jody bought it for her as soon as she showed she might actually like something) is coming down over her shoulders and spreading over her and Magda. All at once she feels warm all over, safe, like she and Magda are in a world all their own in a little blanket fort in room made only of the blanket and their bodies. She feels like a little girl. She feels a thousand years old.

"Mags, I'm so tired," she says, her eyelashes pressing against Magda's skin and making her eyes itch. She doesn't move them. Magda's fingers run through her hair.

"Go to sleep, Claire."

When Jody wakes them up a few hours later for dinner, she's very tactful in that she doesn't ask either of them any questions about the position that she found them in, but doing that thing Moms sometimes do when their kid has a prom date that they're not sure if that date is an actual date or not, sending Claire significant looks over the dining table and giving Magda little conversational nudges as if to ask any question resembling whether they were sleeping in the same bed in a platonic way without actually reaching that exact question. As if Magda is particularly good at inferring indirect questions. She typically guesses so incorrectly as to what people mean by being indirect that Claire usually tells her what people are talking around later. She can always tell that the talking around is happening, it's just that she so thoroughly doesn't understand the point of not being direct that it's hard for her to get what someone is trying to obscure. It's nice. Claire doesn't know that she's ever been around someone who bullshits as little as Magda.

She doesn't know that she's going to tell Magda about this particular instance, though. She really can't afford to make her uncomfortable. Not when she's gone and let herself get this attached. In fact, she should think about going and getting herself unattached, if she's smart about it.

Even if Magda's nothing like her mother, even if she's the sweetest girl Claire has ever met, and even if she has actual superpowers, there's no telling as to whether she'd be even accepting of somebody like Claire. Lesbians. Hell, queer people as a whole. She wouldn't be the first homophobe Claire's ever met, nor the first to ever earn her trust, and fuck, she wouldn't be the first one to hurt her feelings. She knows her Mama would never have- even her Daddy- fuck.

She's gotta stop feeling like this with Magda. She's probably gotta leave again. Something. Despite the fact that she told herself she was taking a break after the werewolf case, she starts looking for cases whenever Magda is doing her time in the library, reading every book she can get her hands on like somebody's gonna take them away. Well. That's probably a bit too apt. She cannot be thinking about Magda's past right now. She can leave for a week. Two, even. This girl has not made her so desperate to stay in such a relatively short time that the idea of going on a case makes her feel a little sick. That's not what is happening right now.

She's never gonna get any higher education, but if there was any degree in lying to yourself, she'd probably have a masters degree in denial by now.

The house is quieter when she's trying not to stick to Magda as much, being as avoiding Magda damn near means avoiding everyone in the house. Jody has her whenever she gets a day off at least for a few hours, always leaving room in her schedule for Magda and the thing that they do where they've been trying to make each other better at cooking by muddling through it together. Alex takes her shopping whenever she wants to leave the house, books bought on her Daddy's estate money seeing as no one had been living on the farm anymore, and Claire isn't supposed to be hearing about Magda's excursions while she's trying to separate herself from this. Donna, now that she's moved in, goes on nature walks with Magda.

She's not sure why she knows when and how and why everyone spends time with Magda, but the idea that other people are spending more time with her than she is doesn't feel great.

Despite the fact that she's trying to pull away, she just can't fucking help it sometimes, you know? It's like, Magda Peterson is not a girl that is meant to look sad, if you've got any bit of soul left in you. Any bit of heart. Too much heart. Anyway. When Magda is upset, there's just something wrong about it, like Claire can't be happy if she isn't, like Claire can't focus on anything else until she knows what's going on in that pretty little head of hers. Jesus alive, she needs a case. Instead, she's sitting next to Magda in the low lamplight of Magda's bedroom, listening to the quiet of her fucking piano version of the first Green Day album playing from the computer, the notes coming out slightly tinny. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she's got big dyke feelings for a girl who listens to piano covers of punk bands. Isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

"You wanna talk about it?" Claire asks, being as that's how all of their conversations lately seem to begin. On bad days, anyway. Magda doesn't quite look at her yet.

"Something has been wrong with you too, lately," she says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Her tone is one that brokers no argument, and Claire doesn't know anybody who does as little bullshit as Magda, but Jesus. She never will sugarcoat anything. It's always gonna be a bitter pill.

"Maybe, but this isn't about me," Claire replies, frowning. Magda finally looks up at her, her expression mostly flat, except for barely a flick of a smile.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she says, so close to flirtation that Claire feels like she's spinning on a knife's edge, a ballerina on a point. She clears her throat. Tell the truth? To know what's bothering Magda? It's not like Claire is closeted. Magda is going to know eventually. It's a question of whether she's going to know because Claire told her, and because Claire told her all of her worries about it, or because it was sprung on her out of nowhere. Suddenly, and with a rush of bravery that she's not sure she should feel, Claire chooses the fate she keeps in her own hands.

"Sometimes, because of my mom,  I guess, I feel like I'm bad. Evil. Because I like girls." She doesn't mention how it makes her scared in every single friendship, in every single relationship, every single day, but still the admission takes everything out of Claire that she has in her, more than she might have had in the first place. She tries not to think about how that fear might also be related to her father, his faith so unshakeable when he took Castiel on that he stuck his hand in a pot of boiling water- she had read that in the Winchester Gospels, awful fucking books they are- and she doesn't know that losing faith in God would have taken the small town boy out of her Daddy. She refuses to be grateful for Castiel. She refuses to be grateful for not living a normal life. Her eyes are clenched shut, but she feels it when Magda's fingers lace with her own.

"Do you think I'm evil, Claire?" she asks, her voice calm and small, level like Magda, and Claire clears her throat to speak.

"No," she says, and it comes out as a croak. Magda squeezes her fingers, a silent benediction. An offer of comfort, clear and freely given. Jesus.

"Thanks," Magda says, which is admittedly a little funny when one is getting thanks for not thinking one's friend is evil, and then she says, "Not even because I like girls?" and Claire blinks.

"Oh, you- you too?" she asks, feigned casualty completely useless with Magda laying close enough for their shoulders to brush, to feel when she stops breathing at a typical rate. She gets a nod in return.

"I think so. Maybe always. It's not like my mom knew, not like that's what she was- she didn't know to be mad about that. She would have, though. She would have hated it. She'd hate it still," Magda says, her eyes cast off in the great big somewhere she goes off to sometimes when her eyes aren't on Claire, and Claire is off of her back before she even thinks of it, her weight moving to her elbow and her other hand cupping Magda's face.

"Hey, fuck your mom, man. You're perfect, Mags. Just the way you are. She'd be fucking lucky to get to know you," Claire assures her friend, Magda fucking Peterson, Magda who rarely has a mean word to say about anyone, even if she has a hell of a verbal right hook coming along, if Claire has anything to do with it. The point! The point is that there's no reason to hate Magda. And even if there fucking was. Nobody deserves what Magda got. Claire realizes, suddenly, that she's cupping Magda's face, leaning over her on Magda's bed in the mostly-darkness that Magda tends to prefer, but Magda's hand, placed quietly and carefully on top of Claire's own, stops her from taking it back.

"Your mom would be lucky too, Claire. Really... really fucking lucky," Magda says, dropping the curse word awkwardly, and Claire grins at her, wants to kiss her. She wants to kiss her so bad it aches in her chest, wants to kiss Magda like the coming of the tide, an ocean in her belly overwhelming her with want for this girl. She's pretty like stained glass windows of the Virgin Mary, pretty like pictures of Mary Magdalene in picture book Bibles, pretty like Magda, smiling up at Claire from her back, her hand holding Claire's hand to her face. Claire wants to kiss her. Ask her on a date. Ask her to dance. She makes herself brave.

"Could I-" she starts. Magda's hand moves to Claire's jaw.

"Please," she says, and Claire thinks she might melt. Instead, she meets Magda in the middle where the other girl is straining up against her, leans down and brings their lips together and lets herself have this. Magda's mouth is soft and warm, and the sparks where their lips meet make her feel like she's going to spring into light, make her feel as close as she's been to Heaven since she was a vessel. She swings her hips over Magda's just so that she can free the hand holding her up, lace those fingers with Magda's, hold her hand and kiss her too, old comfort and new intimacy.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Magda," she says, kissing Magda again as soon as she separates their lips, desperate for a touch she never ever guessed that she could have. She can finally taste Magda's smile.

"This is even better than I thought it would be," the other girl says, quiet like Claire maybe isn't supposed to hear, but she tilts Magda's head up, thumb under her chin.

"What were you thinking about?" she asks, wondering wildly if Magda had wanted to kiss her too, if Magda had wanted more, if Magda wants to hold her hands all the time and cook meals together and come on hunts with Claire someday, maybe, or when Claire is ready to stop hunting, settle down and be someone together. She's not sure what she wants. She's just pretty sure that she wants it with Magda. She'd like to figure it out with Magda.

"Kissing girls. Kissing you. Being with you," Madga says, everything that Claire wants and yet the bare version of it, simple and safe. Jesus alive, she's so easy to want to kiss. It's never been so easy to want. Claire bumps her nose against Magda's, knowing well enough she's looking at Magda like she hung the goddamn moon, but not knowing well enough to stop. How can she stop? She kisses Magda again just to be safe.

"I want that too," she whispers, tells it like a secret she's hiding in the apple of Magda's cheek, her knees coming down on Magda's sides as she settles into her straddling her. The move only flusters her more as she considers the consequences of her actions (which she never really considers before doing anything), but Magda's hands come up around the backs of her thighs before she can get too embarrassed. She moves her face from where she had hidden herself in Magda's shoulder length hair.

"You want to be with me?" Magda asks, smiling up at Claire so prettily she thinks she might burst into flames, and she should have stayed hiding her face. It's hard to think that when Magda looks at her like that, though. Claire nods, and then she thinks again where this conversation started, brushing her nose against Magda's cheek.

"What was... what's on your mind? Or what was before this, I mean," she asks, nudging her nose against Magda's face again as she says this, because it feels like this is gonna make her burst into a thousand little confetti pieces of herself. Magda's hands squeeze her for a second, reflexive, as Magda frowns, her eyebrows wrinkling.

"You haven't been yourself lately," Magda says, and she tilts her face up so that their foreheads rest against each other for a moment, fleeting, before leaving space between them again. "I got scared. Thought I scared you. Didn't know what was going on," she continues, her expression back to that insecure place, and Claire rests her head against Magda's once again. It burns in her chest to think that she hurt Magda with her own fucked up fear, the things that were sowed into her that only she could reap. But she doesn't have to linger here, and she has to fucking remember that. You can't fix anything from under the ground. Jody told her something like that once. Can't fix anything trying to dig yourself down.

"I'm sorry, Mags. Got caught up in my head. You didn't scare me at all, okay? Never scared of you. Not once," she says, and she kisses Magda again, soft and careful and clear in her intentions. She never wants Magda to think she's scared of her. Magda kisses her back with no small amount of intention herself, one of her hands moving to Claire's face to cup her jaw, Magda's sure fingertips sweeping over Claire's face. Her hands are so careful that Claire's going to lose her mind. She dives into the kiss, deepening it. Magda hums, a noise that makes Claire want more of it immediately, more of all of this, more of Magda.

Jesus on the Cross, this is going to be a problem, isn't it?

And it is.

She likes Magda so much it makes her look stupid, but it helps that Magda likes her at least as much. As much as Mags hung off her before, she only feels more entitled to it now, now mostly forgoing holding her hand for her new move of jumping onto Claire's back in the hallway, knowing that Claire will catch her. As uncomfortable as she is with her powers, she'll move something from across the room if it means that Claire won't have to get off of her lap. All of the tiny things that make her Magda fascinate Claire endlessly, like studying veins in flowers or grooves in tree bark, details that make a beautiful thing whole. She sounds terribly infatuated. It's maybe the youngest she's ever felt.

Claire smiles where she sits cross legged on the floor. They're supposed to be straightening up Magda's room- or rather, Magda had planned to be cleaning up her room, and had abandoned the plan immediately when Claire had come in, flopping onto her bed with her bag of books (still not unpacked from their recent trip to a book sale). It's mostly clean anyway, only two of the bookcases still somewhat cluttered, and that's okay. It looks fine. It looks lived in. Magda just looks pretty from where she stares over at Claire with that usual steady stare of hers, her face all round and upside down and sweet looking. Claire is so fucking fond of her that she looks stupid.

"I think I need another bookcase," Magda says, hand resting on the bag of books idly. Claire snorts.

"You could probably do with a couple, Mags. I doubt you're fitting them in here, though," she says, looking at the two bookcases on the far side and then to the still two more on either side of Magda's bed, all four a bit overstacked with books. Between Magda's room and the library, you'd think she would have enough books, or at the very least, enough room for them. But, you know, whatever makes her happy. "You can put a couple in my room if you want. It's not like I use the space for much," she suggests, thinking about the empty wall on the far side of her room. Once upon a time, she was going to put a desk there. Now, knowing that she doesn't really have any love of anything you might use a desk for, she can't think of a better use for the space than more of Magda's books.

"A couple books?" Magda asks, her voice a bit smaller. Claire raises an eyebrow. How the hell would only a couple of books be at all useful? She shakes her head.

"No, babe, a couple of bookcases. Really, I've got the space," she repeats. She looks back to Magda to find the other girl closer than she left her, so close that Claire catches her hands before she even thinks about it. Magda holds her fingers and slides up to kiss her, upside down and so sweet, Claire feels like she's got hearts coming off her goddamn head. It's an awkward angle, so it's only a quick little kiss, but God. Kissing Magda. Yeah.

"Thank you, Claire. You're- thank you," Magda says, stumbling over her words when she pulls back. She's nearly halfway off the bed, her chest on the corner, and Claire could pull her off if she was feeling a little mean. She hardly ever is where Magda is concerned. Alex calls her whipped when Magda isn't listening- well, it better be when Magda isn't listening. Otherwise, Alex is about to catch her hands.

"You're about to fall off the bed, Mags. Come on, let's get you back up," she says, standing from her crossed legs and lifting the other girl back onto the bed sideways (which is actually rightways, now) so that her head is back up on the pillow. Magda is grinning up at her when she sets her back onto the comforter, and God above, Claire is a little whipped, isn't she? She dips down and kisses Magda on the forehead for her trouble, fully committing to the bit of whatever it is that she's got going on. Magda giggles. Claire kisses her again, a real kiss this time, and sets her knees on either side of Magda, the bag of books nudged to the very end of the bed. Making out with Magda in a bed with books in it. Sounds like something she could do.

#clairemagda #magdaclaire #claire novak #magda peterson #besties this fic has permanently altered my brain chemistry #mine #spn #if you read this please know that this is my magnum opus. not least of all bc it will be my fic 200 on ao3. but listen mostly bc of the fic #it's Here. #magda is autistic gang rise up #use of the word dyke by a lesbian writer and character

[splodge04]

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

My Dr Quinn/BSG Crossover is a world of its bloody own hahaha

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The back and forth between Laura and Bill would have been entertaining if they’d had an audience, the pair of them battling over the best way to place Laura if they were to get the wagon back into town in one piece. Bill insisted that she be up on the horse with him, allowing him to lead the wagon, with her horses tucked up behind them. The idea of being that close to him had Laura feeling queasy. It made more sense to have her at the back with the other supplies to help keep the wagon weighted properly for ease of movement. 

“I can’t trust you to keep still enough for the balance to remain right,” Bill shouted over his shoulder as he hitched the horses back up to the wagon now that it was balanced and level with the supplies in the right place. “I also don’t want you to rock it and hurt the horses, yourself, or damage one of the remaining three wheels.” 

Laura just watched him in complete silence, her face scrunched up like paper as she remained perched on the floor with her knee getting darker by the minute. What was difficult for her was his sheer stubbornness. It didn’t seem to matter what she said, he had an answer for everything like an encyclopaedia. It was as if his stubbornness won out to any other sense he had, which was potentially why he went from hot to cold so quickly. Perhaps he was heavily driven by emotion? Laura knew something about that.

Sometimes it’s easier to hate someone than give them the benefit of the doubt because then it would mean that you were wrong in your assumptions. It was ridiculous how he was able to rub her up the wrong way without doing a single thing, and even as she sat there watching him, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest and he wasn’t even saying a thing. The conflicting thing about it was that he would occasionally show a side to him that piqued her interest, as if there was a depth to him that she wanted to understand. The man's soul was hurt. How did she even know that? It wasn’t fact but a feeling, and it was something she could relate to. What if people gave up on her so quickly? Without giving her the time to show who she really was? Not that she knew who that was anymore.

“Did you hear me?” Bill exasperated as if he was talking to a child. 

Hearing his tone, Laura followed him with her eyes which were so narrow she could make out the shadows of her eyelashes. “It’ll be easier for me to be there,” she pointed aggressively to the rear of the wagon, watching as he limped around the horses. “You don’t seem particularly steady on your own feet, actually, are you sure it’ll be easier the way you suggest?”

Exhaling sharply in annoyance, Bill limped towards her, grabbing an empty sack that he’d spotted strewn on the wagon floor. “I’ve had to deal with this limp for many years. I can handle myself. Now,” he paused to squat down as he ripped the sack down the seam, “I’m going to wrap this around your knee to help keep it straight, and put these sticks on either side.” 

The idea of him touching her knee made her feel nauseous and she braced her hands on the hot dirt floor behind her in anticipation. The pain throbbed horribly down her whole leg and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to take it if it got any worse. What choice did she have, though, either? It’s not as if she could trust him to take the wagon back and get help. Considering that she thought she’d rather dry up like a prune than be in his debt, she wasn’t doing a very good job of not needing his assistance. “Either way you have to get me up,” she stated. 

“Is there a please with that?” 

Did he just actually say that? She thought to herself as her eyes bulged in their sockets. When she caught his eye she could see that same playful expression on his face she’d seen not too long before again. There was hot and cold and then there was boiling and freezing. Apparently he’d caught her out nice and sharply. Checkmate. Laura couldn’t help the blush that worked its way up from her throat and into her cheeks; she was irritated and humiliated at the same time. 

It took a few moments, but she then swallowed and conceded defeat. “Please.”

#wip #laura roslin #bill adama #battlestar galactica #dr quinn medicine woman

[infitsovermisfits]

(SMUT) Tiny Swords Part 6 - Eddie Munson x (afab)Reader

This is a smut chapter- if you're under the age of 18 please don't read it. Be safe on the internet ok?

AN: ok wow I had no idea wow ok wow. I wanted to quickly say thank u again to anyone who has read this silly little fanfic i wrote- I've seen like 3 tiktoks with it in them and received such moving comments that it's... i started writing this just because i wanted to write something nice for eddie because i really love his character and to see so many people love this work is... something special <3 i never experienced like this before and it's overwhelming in the loveliest of ways <3 thank you to anyone who has read up to this chapter- to quote the timeless Keanu Reeves, you're all breathtaking <3 i love u all

can you believe its been about 100 days simping for eddie? that's so fucking wild don't ask how i know that it's embarrassing. this took me a while to write and frankly i don't really like it but i just wanted to get it done because i want to write other things, uni is starting for me again soon and i guess I'm not ready for this to end just yet ;-; i had to cut this one short on the count of me not being able to write a propper ending/ have any plot ideas for this anymore. this is just porn with little plot. enjoy!

WARNINGS: AFAB reader, female bodily autonomy, reader uses they/them pronouns, reader wears make up, not my proudest work, safe sex- wear a condom lads, p in v sex, mirror sex, biting, hickeys, blah blah, fucking magic tricks?? for some reason?? talking about the future, mentions of masterbation, i think that's it?

word count: 13047

(complete) PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | MASTERLIST

The morning was quiet and peaceful. Waking in tangled limbs, skin slowly heating in the rising sun.  There was the gentle chirping of the birds outside, along with Eddie's soft snores beside you. You found yourself locked in his embrace; one of his arms secured around your waist while the other rested in your hair. The covers just barely covered your bare bodies, so you could feel the cool breeze flutter in through the window, ruffling your curtains. You took the liberty of shifting your hand to cover his eyes, shielding him from the light before you pressed your face into his chest, inhaling his earthy scent. His lips move to gently kiss your forehead, though he doesn't move to get up. Neither do you- too content like this. You let yourself doze for a few more moments until you feel the need to use the bathroom. Worming out of his arms isn't easy, but you eventually escape. Upon your return, you're amused to find Eddie sitting up with a pout on his lips. He still has his eyes closed, clearly still tired, his hair wild, significantly more messy than usual. As your footsteps approach your bed, his open so he squints at you in the bright room, 

"Why'd you go?" He asks in a whiny voice, still hoarse and thick with sleep. With a smile, you let your knees sink down onto the bed, kneeling beside him. He tilts his head to look at you, and his expression shifts to affectionate; his smile is infectious. You plant your lips to his gently,

"I had to go pee," You tell him once you pull away, sitting back on your legs to watch as he rolls his eyes with a huff, blowing his messy bangs up and out of his eyes, "I'm back now," You say, opening your arms slightly to the sides. Eddie tilts his head slightly to look back at you, an elbow leaning on his covered, bent knee and toying with the ends of his hair; the other resting against his thigh. His eyes dip from your face down your body. You're wearing a shirt of his that you put on in the middle of the night, "Stop looking," You scold with a smile, shuffling closer to him again,

"I'm admiring the view, babe," He says lazily with a grin, groaning softly as he stretches his arms out in front of him and hugs you close. He puts all his weight on you, urging you to lay back on your bed. After moving your legs out from under you, you do so, not finding the strength to try and push him off. Laughter leaves your lips instead as he lays directly on top of you, the weight welcoming and comforting. He rests his head on your chest, in the valley between your breasts- effectively trapping you below him again,

"Eddie," You whine, smiling as you look down at him. He shifts his head, pressing a kiss to the middle of your clothed chest, before looking at up you. He narrows his eyes, an action you mimic and smile back at him, "I just got up,"

"Five more minutes," He grumbles, his head falling back on your chest, soft snores quickly escaping his lips leaving no room for you to argue. Eddie was never one to wake up bright and early in the mornings- staying up so late must have worn him out. And considering you still felt an ache in your thighs and hips, you relent and let him sleep.

The 'five more minutes' drag on for fifteen, before you got too impatient and try to wiggle out from below him unsuccessfully. He wakes again, curious as to what you're doing, and when you answered that you were bored, he lets out a yawn and lifts himself up off you. As soon as you shuffle out from under him, he flopps back on his stomach, hiding his face in his arms and letting his hair fall over his face,

"What're you gonna do?" He asks, voice muffled, though he does just slightly lift his head so his tired eyes can watch you. You don't answer at first, taking a quiet moment sitting on the edge of the bed and just watching him. Without much thought, you reach a hand out to mess with his curls, not entirely attempting to fix the mess, just making it... Look nicer. You move the bangs from out of his face and move a few of the curls from his shoulders. Your eyes drift to the scratch marks you had left behind on his shoulder blades, along with the deep red and purple bruising of the bruise you bit into his skin. Warmth heats your cheeks, yet you let your fingers delicately trace over the red marks, knowing his skin would likely still be tender. He lifts his head at the contact, eyes glancing at a bruise on your knee, before looking at your face with wide eyes. There are still dark circles under them, "Hello," He says quietly. At the sound of his voice, you smile wider, moving your hand from his back to ruffle his bangs. He groans, trying to move his head away from you playfully, before attempting to bite at your fingers. You pull your hand away before he can, but laugh,

"Are you feral, Eddie? Jesus," You laugh as he grins,

"Yeah, and I have rabies too," He says, baring his teeth. Your eyes dart over his sharp canines before he relaxes his mouth into a smile, "What, are you gonna watch me sleep now?" He asks, raising his brows,

"Nah, you're more interesting awake," You tell him, patting the bed and standing up,

"I'm plenty interesting when I'm asleep- oh!" He suddenly exclaims, and you turn your head to look at him, "I just remembered a dream I had," He smirks as you relax,

"Do tell," You wave an arm, standing by your chair and glancing over the clothes strewn around your room. You should start cleaning up,

"Nah, I don't think you want to hear it," Eddie mumbles; his face must be back in his arms. You furrow your brows, before groaning,

"God, you didn't have a sex dream, did you?"

"No!" You can hear the smile in his voice, "Why'd I need to fantasise about that when I have you right here, sweetheart?" You smile to yourself as you pick up a shirt- his- and fold it, before pulling his bag closer to you so you can put it back there. Glancing to your side, your eyes dart over his guitar case,

"She's right here, you know," You pat the case; the zippers jingle. You grab another shirt- his- and begin folding it, "Eds?" You ask as he doesn't respond right away, "Is-"

"Do you have cards?" He asks suddenly, lifting his head so you could hear him clearly. You freeze where you are, giving him a look, "What?" He asks, smiling at you,

"Cards?" You ask suspiciously,

"Yeah," He nods,

"Like playing cards?"

"Fucking birthday cards," Your name leaves his lips dripping with sarcasm as you laugh, "Playing cards, yeah," He clarifies as you start looking through your drawers,

"I've got..." You shuffle through things you haven't touched in years: scrap paper with doodles and notes you passed with Eddie; old notebooks you hardly touched; stray pens and pencils. The items, though junk, fill you with the pleasant warmth of remembrance of simpler times. Before senior year and the big 'what comes next?' question began looming overhead and around every turn- at every guidance counsellor session. Your fingers finally find what you were looking for, pulling the deck out and tossing it next to him on the bed, "I don't know if all the cards are there though- I also have Uno-"

"Oh, bring that one too," He grins, there's a creak and gently thud that comes from your bed, and when you momentarily turn to glance at him, Eddie's flipped onto his back and has taken the cards from the deck. He has them above his head and he's shuffling through them, muttering digits under his breath to count them. You grab the Uno deck as promised, even though the flimsy cardboard packaging is almost falling apart, "There's only fifty-one," He announces, glancing over at you as you stand and join him on the bed. He sits up, still shuffling through the deck,

"Do you know which one's..." To say Eddie was skilled with his hands was an understatement. Of course, it was impressive watching him play complicated riffs on his guitar's, considering he'd learn by ear, but you were utterly mesmerised now; watching the cards seemingly gliding through his fingers,

"Which one's what, sweetheart?" He asks, halting the movements of his hands so you're forced to focus your surprised glance at him,

"How did-" You blink at him. Eddie had many talents he didn't recognise as talents. For example, you found it remarkable that he'd occasionally mention he was rereading 'Lord of the Rings' for the millionth time on a Monday morning as he drove you to school, and by Saturday evening, he'd tell you he finished, eagerly relaying his favourite parts to you. He'd learn all his favourite songs, and occasionally yours, by ear, mischievously sitting in the corner while you did your school work, playing the chords on one of his quitars and waiting for you to realise. And not to mention the elaborate campaigns that'd leave your mind occupied for days after because who would've suspected that Kas- Vecna's own right-hand man- was the one who'd betray him, sacrificing himself to help the party in your darkest hour? Shuffling cards like he was fucking Houdini shouldn't surprise you as much as it did... But here you were, lips slightly parted and unable to vocalise your shock,

"Keep your mouth open like that and you're gonna swallow a fly," He says nonchalantly, with a slight slyness to his tone. He's caught on. You close your mouth, before licking your lips to wet them and glance from his hands to his face. He's grinning slightly,

"How did you learn how to shuffle the cards like that?" You finally ask, smiling slightly as he chuckles lowly. He begins to quickly deal the cards into two piles,

"That's what you're so impressed by?" He asks with a grin, casting you a glance. You shrug,

"You can't just grab my cards and shuffle them like you're Houdini or something!" He laughs again, more fully and in delight, "Explain!" You shove his shoulder slightly as he finishes with the cards, picking up his pile and organising the cards so they'd be even in his grasp,

"Alright..." He rolls his eyes, setting his cards closer to him before picking up the other pile and organising it for you. He moves his head away so you can't see his face, "I may or may not have gotten... A little obsessed with magic when I was a kid?" He gives you a slight glance, the tips of his ears going red slightly in embarrassment, "I thought it'd make me cool y'know? Being all 'is this your card?' and pulling out an ace of spades-" At that, he turns over a card and sticks his tongue out at the king of hearts, before setting it back in the pile and shuffling it, "It's-"

"Do you remember any magic tricks?" You ask him with a smile. He glances up at you, searching your eyes for any signs of mockery. You nod to your cards he's holding, organised so they're all facing upside down,

"Uhh... Well, I just separated them. Thought we could play something," He sit up a little more, holding out half of the deck. Gently you take it from him, humming,

"But you do know magic tricks?" You ask. He grins,

"Of course, I know magic tricks," He rolls his eyes, "I'm amazing at everything I do?" This time you roll your eyes, "Are we playing War or snap?" He asks,

"Snap- I've always been good at that," You grin, setting your first card down on the bed. Neither of you make comment on the face that it's the ace of spades,

"Oh, have you?" He teases, setting his own card down,

"Yeah, I played with my siblings all the time. The key is multi-tasking- talking to distract them but paying close attention to what you're doing and- snap!" You grin to yourself, quickly slapping your hand over the red and black Queens with a smirk. His hand covers yours quickly as he groans, but smirks, watching you take the cards and add them to the bottom of your deck, "See? Good tactics get you anywhere," You tease,

"Uhuh," He smiles, nodding his head as he sets his card down and watches you expectantly. He holds your gaze for a few moments as you glare playfully, before looking down to focus on the cards, "So my dream-"

"I almost forgot about that- what was it?" You ask, focusing hard on the cards. He places a four; you place a jack,

"Yeah- so we were at the grocery store for some reason and I was struggling to pick out a guitar. I don't know why they were selling guitars at a grocery store, but whatever," He says, "Next thing I know, you grab a ketchup bottle- God knows where you got that from, we're looking at guitars-" He chuckles softly, "But you start throwing it all over the customers around us," You laugh at that, barely registering the four you put down onto his. Briefly, you catch the flash in his eyes as he slaps a hand over the cards and grins at you, "Idiot," He smirks as you slap your hand onto his,

"But you didn't say snap!" You protest, moving your hand to try and grab his to pry it off the pileof cards,

"Does it matter- snap!" He grins, shoving your hand off of his easily and smirking as you huff, relenting and letting him take the cards, "See, this is why you don't tell anyone your strategies, babe," He smirks, "You do the exact same thing in my campaigns," He points out to you,

"I don't," You defend, setting your cards down one after the other,

"You do- you're so predictable it's hilarious," he smiles to himself, glancing up at you once he places down an ace, "Sometimes I don't even want to thwart your plan, it's funny predicting what you're gonna do," He smiles,

"Prey tell- how easy am I?" You ask, raising your brows as you set another card down,

"Well- you always use your strongest attack first," Eddie points out, "And you complain that no one else uses their strongest attacks either. That'll usually start an argument with Dustin about planning and strategy," He smiles as he sets another card down, glancing back at you, "What?"

"I mean it's true," You grumble,

"Yeah, it is," He smiles, "And it's funny every time," He adds, setting a King over yours. You quickly slap your hand onto the pile and grin,

"Snap!" Half of his pile is on your bed and you grin proudly to yourself as you pick it up. He huffs, rolling his eyes, "Sometimes," You tease, making sure the pile sits evenly in your hands, "It's better to sit quietly while your opponent talks away," You say proudly, holding out your stack of cards to show them off. He narrows his eyes, briefly glancing down at them, before smirking slyly and grabbing your cards out of your hands before you can react, "Hey!" You protest,

"This counts as a win for me because I have all the cards and you have none," He announces proudly, beginning to shuffle through them. You attempt to grab them back, though huff as he moves them away again,

"Eddie," You whine, grinning as you move over him to grab your cards back. Considering he now moved them to rest in his one hand, he holds them above his head and leans back on the bed. You follow him, landing on top of his chest,

"Nah, I won," He grins, glancing from the cards in his hand to your hand, reaching out and trying to grab them. He glanced down at your face in amusement, before closing the short distance between your faces and kissing you. You could feel him smirk against your lips as you stopped reaching for the cards and set your hand on his arm instead, your other hand moving to rest on his chest so you could prop yourself up, "C'mon," he says softly when you pull away,

"'C'mon' what?" You ask quietly,

"Say I won," He says smugly; you narrow your eyes,

"If you admit you cheated," Your brows raise as he grins, showing his teeth,

"It wasn't cheating- it was making use of an opportunity," He grins, "Say it," He repeats in a sing-songy way. Playfully, you sigh, grinning as you blow air into his face causing him to scrunch his nose,

"You win, Eds," You tell him reluctantly, swiftly moving up off of him and reaching for the Uno cards,

"Ahh, that's music to my ears, babe," He murmurs beside you. The creeking of the bed makes you realise he's sitting up behind you now. Then his lips ghost along your skin, moving from your shoulder until he gently kisses your sensitive neck, tongue darting out to lick your pulse point. Reluctantly, you press a hand to his cheek to teasingly push him away, though you don't expect it when he tilts his head and playfully licks your palm,

"Ew!" You exclaim as you pull your hand back quickly, gasping as he cackles loudly, falling back on your bed as you wipe your hand with mock disgust on your sheets, "What is wrong with you, Eddie?" You say through laughter, "That's disgusting!"

"What!?" He grins at you, "C'mon babe-"

"I don't appreciate being licked!" You tell him. he's moving to set the deck of cards on your bedside table, but halts his movements at your statement, shooting you a sceptical look, raising his brows with an amused grin, "Okay- not... You know what I mean, Eddie!" You say exasperated,

"No, I don't think I do," He grins at you when you huff, "What? So you'll happily make out with me, and let me eat you out but when I lick your hand, you think it's gross?" He says as he shifts and sets the cards he's still holding on the table, then settles to sit on your bed and watches you with amusement,

"Yes," You tell him, smiling as his mouth falls open in shock,

"Seriously!?" He asks with a large grin,

"Well, yeah," You shrug, "I... No- I know what you're doing," You shuffle to the edge of your bed, swinging your legs off the side as if you're moving to leave, grinning to yourself at his shocked expression,

"What!? What am I doing?" He asks innocently,

"You are trying to rope me into admitting things," You point a finger at him,

"I am doing no such thing!" He continues to protest as if he's innocent. Glancing at your hand, he reaches out to grab it. You narrow your eyes at him as you move it out of his way, "C'mon- what am I trying to get you to admit?" He smiles,

"That I don't actually mind when you-" Your eyes grow wide in realisation. He mimics your expression, brows raising as he grins,

"When I what!?" He urges, sitting up,

"Nope! I'm not letting you trick me," You grin as you move to stand. Eddie is quick to grab you by the arm, pulling you back down. With a grin, he leans on you so you're forced to lay down under him,

"Just admit that you like me," He settles. He moves a hand to touch your arms, gently rubbing your skin as you stare at him with an open mouth. His request sounds ridiculous,

"Eddie, I've been letting you live with me in my house for the last four days. I must like you to some degree to allow you to stay here for so long," You tease playfully, "Plus, why am I the one admitting all this stuff to you?" You question, "What if I want you to tell me how much you like me?" You smile at him, moving a hand to touch his neck. It's impossible to miss the way his pupils darken at your words. You let your hand gently caress his skin, letting your fingertips gently trace down his neck, then splaying out so it covers the ink on his skin,

"I do like you," He says in a low tone. You hum in approval, before gently lifting yourself so you're closer to him, and letting your lips touch his. Quickly, he's pressing his tongue to your lips and entering your mouth with a low groan. One of his hands gently reaches out to brush some hairs back from your face, coming to gently rest at the side of your head, "I really, really like you," He pulls away for a moment to tell you. When you open your eyes, they dart to his lips and you grin easily at how they're slightly pinker,

"Just like me?" You tease, grinning as he rolls his eyes, hand gently stroking up and down your arm,

"What do you want me to say, huh?" He grins as he says your name, "You want me to tell you in a poem?" He asks,

"You don't have to," You say, "Though since you insist, I'd greatly appreciate some nice words," You smile softly. He laughs to himself, before nodding for you to move further up your bed. As you do, you pull one of your pillows down under your head for added comfort,

"Something nice, hmm?" He repeats, eyes watching your slow movements, "I'm not used to being nice," He tells you playfully, though his happy and infectious smile proves otherwise,

"Aww come on, you've been plenty nice to me," You tell him as you mess with the pillow, "Reciprocate," You prompt, finally laying back. With anticipation, you watch as he moves over you, settling his arms on either side of your head and looking over your face with those large brown eyes of his. You let him sit between your open thighs, shifting your legs so they're bent at the knee.

His face is relaxed: a small smile stretched over his kissed lips, his hair creating a curtain around you both, so close your breaths gently fan over one another faces. Without thinking, you reach up a hand to gently brush along his lips, feeling the soft skin beneath the pad of your finger. Letting your hand dip down over his chin, your fingertips graze the skin of his neck until they entangle themselves with the necklace loosely handing down his neck. When you look back from your hand to his face, your met with such tender warmth it startles you, lips parting as you take in his gaze. You can see the love in his eyes as he takes in your face. Though it is untouched by make-up to fix any imperfections, and glowing bright in the summer's morning light,  it's still just you. And it's just him above you, loving you for you. Undisturbed in this moment of peace,

"I love you, sometimes more than life itself," He whispers to you. The look on his face is almost surprised at what came from his lips. Like the thought had been running through his head but somehow slipped and escaped past his lips. You blink slowly, fingers halting as they play with the chain, "You just... Waking up with you by my side every morning... I usually stay in bed 'till like, way later in the day," His smile widens as he gently brings a hand up to your cheek, "But when I'm with you... I wake up and sometimes I'm already smiling because I can feel you in my arms. Just the fact that you're here and I'm smiling and I'm just... You just make me feel so happy just by being here," His words warm your heart and prickle tears against your eyes. Your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling. Holy shit- how did you get so lucky to have someone as kind and sweet as Eddie Munson in your life? "Knowing you're with me, right now... Makes me want to wake up and live," He sighs.

All you can do is laugh, overcome with such happiness and love for him you can't even form words- the joy escaping the confines of your body. The tears that had built up in the corners of your eyes slip down the sides of your cheeks when you close your eyes, though Eddie is quick to wipe your face dry,

"Munson, you really have no idea how sweet you are, huh?" You grin at him, moving your hand to wipe the other side of your face as he grins at you,

"I can be easily persuaded, my love," He says. For another moment, all you can do is look at one another. For a moment you're quiet- you can feel the rapid beating of your heart in your chest, the cool chain around your fingers as you curl them around the metal again. The birds are chirping outside, and you can hear Eddie's gentle breathing. His lips are slightly parted. Then you're gently pulling the chain closer towards you, moving your head up so your lips meet his halfway. He groans into your mouth, muttering a 'fuck' against your lips as you shift your legs around his waist and your arm moves to wrap around his neck, keeping him in place for a moment.

When your grip around him loosens, he's quick to direct his head down to your neck, pressing kisses to the bloom of red and purple he so lovingly left behind those few days ago. At your sighs and gentle moans, he smirks against your skin. You can feel one of his hands sliding up your skin, moving under your shirt and stopping just on your side. His long, slender fingers skim the underside of your breast causing you to shudder. Impatiently, he hums against your wet skin and foregoes removing the shirt covering your chest, moving down your body,

"Eddie?" You question, glancing down at him as he slides his hands down to grab the hem of your underwear, moving to slide them down your legs. He glances up at you, meeting your eyes and giving you a wink before he playfully bites the skin on your hip. In turn, your swat your fingers at his hair, causing him to laugh,

"What?" He asks, sitting up slightly. You toe off the underwear, letting them slip off of your legs and off the side of the bed,

"Usually, I'm the impatient one," You remind him with a smile, eyes fixated on him as he licks his lips, moving his hands over your legs and helping you part them,

"Mhm-" He agrees, glancing up at you, "Problem is I've been thinking about you since I woke up," He smiles, "Yeah, that 'poetry' wasn't just bullshit to please you," He grins, settling between your legs,

"I believed every word, Eds," You assure him, "Even though it didn't rhyme," You add to tease,

"You wanted it to rhyme?" He laughs softly, "Want me to write you a limerick too?" He asks playfully,

"Can you do iambic pentameter?" You say through laughter. His brows crease as he stares at you,

"Can I do what?" He asks amused, sitting up on his forearms and watching you laugh,

"You know like Shakespeare?" You smile. He blinks and you laugh,

"No, I can't do that," He grins at you as you continue to laugh, "I thought you were talking about a new strain or something," He chuckles,

"What?" You laugh more, "Strain? Of weed?" You laugh more as he nods, "Eddie- y-"

"You can't blame me," He complains, "I mean what even is... Whatever you said?"

"It's the way he wrote his plays. Something to do with five syllables," You shrug, "C'mon, Eds, it's like the first thing you learn about the guy!" You grin at him,

"I don't care about dead guys," He mumbles, rolling his eyes and leaning down to press gentle kisses against the inside of your thigh, "Care more 'bout you," He mutters into your skin, and you let out a small breathy laugh as you let your eyes fall shut. Testing the waters, he gently nips at your skin, and though you said you didn't want more hickeys, no one but him would be looking there... He's gentle at first until you feel his lips curl into a grin. Before you can say anything, he gently sucks your skin into his mouth, tongue wetting the flesh and causing your thighs to clench around him, arousal quickly spreading through your core,

"Oh fuck," you hiss, shifting around in an attempt to bring yourself some relief. You sigh at the loss of his lips on your skin when he pulls away, "Eds, c-" you don't get to finish as Eddie is quick to sit up and press his lips back against yours, effectively shutting you up. His kisses are hot, wet and impatient, teeth gently nipping at your lower lip, before he shifts his head from your open and heavy-breathing mouth and trail back down your neck. This time, he pulls away to grab at the hem of your shirt, and you quickly sit up to help him remove it off you, throwing it elsewhere.

Before he can dive back to your chest, you kiss him again, sitting up and leaning into his mouth when his hands grope your chest, squeezing gently and letting his thumbs roll over your pebbled nipples. He directs you to lay back down, giving you a final kiss, before making his way back down your body with a grin.

His head dips between your thighs, his hands sliding over the skin of your hips before settling on your knees, gently separating them. Eddie hooks his hands under your thighs, grinning as you twitch and shiver at his gentle touches. Your skin heats at the feeling of his breath against your bare self, shivering more when it hits your growing wetness. He glances up at you once more, before humming and muttering something. Before you can ask what he said, you feel the gentle swipe of his tongue against you and you moan softly. Though you're quiet, the sound is loud in the quiet of the morning and the silence of your room. Heat continues to flush your cheeks as he gives a few more licks; then his mouth attaches itself to your clit and he sucks gently, occasionally flicking the bud with his tongue. You suck in a breath and snake a hand to his hair, ruffling it and pulling it from his face so it doesn't get in the way. His eyes lock onto yours and you can see him grinning to himself.

He focuses on what he's doing, licking and sucking when your breaths hitch or your moans grow louder, only working you up more. You're trying to be quiet, mindful of the open window, but when he catches on, his smirk widens. He's quick to give a harsh suck, before shifting one of his hands and pressing his middle finger to your entrance. It draws a harsh gasp from you, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth as you moan louder into it. Eddie's grin only widens as you feel his finger slowly slide into you, and when your hips start impatiently bucking against his mouth and finger, he squeezes your hip gently,

"Eddie," You moan, moving your hand off of your mouth and letting it drop onto your chest. When you open your eyes and glance down at him, you see his eyes are already focused on yours- though his movements don't stop. Your cheeks flush again, "Come back," you whine. His only response is a low hum that vibrates along your clit, causing you to gasp, your pussy clenching around his finger,

"Come where?" He teases, pulling out of you and shifting so he's hovering over you, pressing his left hand to the bed near your head. You open your eyes slightly, just so they're half-lidded. His lips are spread into a grin, wide like some maniac, and his chin is glistening with your arousal. He looks so smug when your eyes widen at the sight. Roughly, he wipes his face with the back of his hand, before glancing down your body. He moves his other hand, fingers finding your clit again, still sensitive. You moan at the contact, body twitching from the sensitivity, "Babe," His voice is soft and low, a little sing-songy and expectant, but you can barely hear him, focusing instead on how good he's making you feel. The small, slow circles so easily distract you. It isn't until he says your name and his movements slow to a stop that you finally look at him,

"What...?" you ask shakily, meeting his eyes and blinking rapidly in an attempt to regain yourself, "What?" you repeat, as he laughs,

"You want me to come where I am or with you?" He asks playfully, moving his hand from your pussy and gently caressing your inner thigh. At the loss of contact, you groan slightly in frustration and close your legs around his hand. He only laughs at you, easily pushing your legs apart again,

"You're such an asshole sometimes," You tease, though grin at him. You manage to lift yourself on your arms to kiss him gently. You can taste yourself on his tongue,

"I honestly just wanted to know," He tells you as he pulls away, just enough to speak. His nose bumps against yours. With a small huff, you roll your eyes and shuffle out from beneath him, turning slightly in his arms to pull his bag closer to you, reaching for a condom, "What? It's best to ask questions," He smiles, letting his head drop so he can press a kiss to your shoulder, "So...?" He hums as you sit back up,

"So what?" You ask, raising your brows at him,

"Together or alone?" He watches as your fingers halt in opening the rubber, brow furrowing as you look at him in confusion,

"What does that mean?" You ask,

"Like..." He glances away, tilting his head and letting his hair fall from where he'd moved it behind his shoulders back in front of his face, "...Masturbate together?" He shrugs, watching you. And for some reason, that's the thing that makes your freeze and stare at him with large eyes, pupils twice their usual size, and mouth gaping wordlessly. Not the fact that you're entirely naked, trapped by his arms caging you to your bed; not the fact that he's just been eating you out: the idea of you flicking your bean while you watch him jerk off to you. That, "Not into that, hmm?" He moves like he wants to get up off of you,

"No! No," You say quickly, moving a hand the grab his arm so he stops, relaxing back so he's sitting back on his knees between your legs again, "Just... Why would I watch you and do all that work by myself when I have you to do it for me?" You smile at him. He laughs gently, humoured by your statement,

"I see you're asking the good questions now," He grins, sitting up and plucking the condom out from between your fingers, opening it the rest of the way,

"I always ask good questions," You grin eagerly. You glance down at his hands, then at his boxers. His length is pressing against them- you can see the outline. Without thinking, you sit up more, reaching for the waistband, "For example, why are you so overdressed?" You ask, letting the waistband go so it snaps back against his skin gently. He laughs again, sitting up to remove them, his cock springing free,

"Happy now?" He hums, leaning forward and kissing you before you can answer. Easily, he directs you to lean back to where you were on the bed and explores your mouth with his tongue. You let your hands move onto his shoulders, mindful of the large bruise you had left there, and lightly scratch down his chest. They travel lower until you take hold of his cock, pumping the shaft slightly. He moans into your mouth, the noise muffled.

After he puts the condom on, he presses his hands to your legs, widening them as you guide his cock along your entrance. He slowly inches inside as your breath hitches, and he groans pleasantly leaning over you, kissing your exposed neck,

"Feels good?" He murmurs, lips close to your ear and nipping at your bare earlobe. You let your hands move over onto his back, fingertips dancing along his skin as you smile to yourself and hum affirmatively,

"Really good," You let him know, hissing and moaning pleasantly as he pulls back out to slide back in. He's slow at first, letting you get used to the feeling before leaning forward to kiss you again. Your moans get louder as he starts a slow in-and-out pace, and when he pulls back to breathe into your mouth, he's smirking,

"Babe," He teases, "Unless you want the whole neighbourhood to hear you, you should be a little quieter," He whispers. Considering he's still thrusting relatively slowly inside you, it's hard to focus. Your moans hush as you close your mouth, biting the inside of your cheek to try to keep quiet. They come out muffled and whiney when you tilt your head to press into the pillow. Eddie quickly attaches his lips to your neck again, causing you to moan and clench around him, "Jesus," He groans,

"Am I the only one who's supposed to be quiet?" You grin to yourself, biting down on your bottom lip as he trails his lips down to your chest. Playfully, he bites your nipple, eliciting a sharp whine from you,

"Look who's talking," He smirks, "Besides, "He leans in close to your face, moving one of his hands to your cup your jaw and tilting your head to look at him. Though he's not rough, the act still makes you clench around him harder, "I like listening to you when you're like this," He whispers smiling as you moan again and let your eyes fall shut,

"Fuck- can you go faster?" You breathe, tilting your head to the side and pressing it back into the pillow. He straightens, slowing briefly as he slides his hands around your hips to pull you close. He speeds up like you asked, drawing more moans from you, "Fuck! Like that," You moan. One of your hands coming to rest on your boob, toying with the nipple while your other moves to your clit, quickly beginning to play with it, muscles in your abdomen tightening,

"Jesus Christ," Eddie groans, feeling your walls flutter around him as he moves quickly, cock dissapearing in your pussy. You're a mess- breathing heavily, moans muffled by the pillow and bed squeaking with the force at which Eddie moves. It's possible that anyone passing by very likely knows what you're doing by the sounds alone, but you're too focused on how good this all feels to care,

"Eddie-" You whine again as his cock beings to hit the spot deep inside you that has your legs shaking around him. Your moans turn to desperate whimpers as you work your hand faster against your clit, chasing down a rapidly building orgasm,

"Wait, wait," He breathes, his movements slowing. You open your eyes, blinking at him in confusion. His smile widens slightly when your hand stops moving against your clit, his hands squeezing your hips briefly,

"What, Eds?" Though you're still a little delirious, you manage to lift yourself on your arms slightly, chest rising and falling rapidly, "Something wrong?" You frown slightly as he breathes for a few moments. At your question, he shakes his head, moving a hand up to brush some of the curly bangs that had stuck to his forehead out of the way. He leans forward to gently kiss you, teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging gently,

"No, no," He assures you, voice barely coming through from how breathless he is. He's smiling though, which eases your worry, "Everything's perfect- it always is with you, baby," He adds. A warmth spreads through your chest- you're glad he feels safe with you, especially in such intimate moments. Though it's usually the other way around- him checking in on you- you want to make sure he's okay too,

"Then what's up?" You move a hand behind your head to gather your hair, manoeuvring it so that when you lay back, it's not in the way. While you do so, he slips out of you, and though you miss the contact and fullness he provided, you're still watching him quizically. One of his hands trails from your hips to your stomach, fingers ghosting over your skin making you shiver and tense beneath his touch,

"I had an idea..." He says, "I just think we should make use of that lovely mirror of yours," He tells you, nodding his head in it's direction. With a relieved smile, you manoeuvr onto your stomach, Eddie's hands never leaving your hips. Once you're settled, he shifts around behind you, pulling your hips closer to him and finally settling. You turn your head to the side and watch him from the mirror in your room, smile widening as you see him lean over and press a gentle kiss to your back. His gaze meets yours in the mirror and he grins, playfully biting you,

"Eddie!" You whine, pressing your face into the pillows as he laughs behind you,

"What? Can't help myself, you're just... There," You can hear the smirk that's no doubt plastered to your face, but can't find the words when he slides his fingers along your sensitive cunt again, gathering your wetness. The contact makes gasp as your hips stutter, though Eddie's quick to pull you back towards him. You sigh softly as you feel him gently pressing his cock to your wet folds, rubbing the slick along his length. Your eyes fall shut as he slowly inches inside you, the new angle making your squirm against him. Your moans are thankfully muffled by the pillow, and once he's fully inside, you hear him groan, "Fucking... Christ," He hisses. You feel him leaning over you, pressing gentle kisses to your back, then shoulder, then neck, "Open your eyes, babe," He murmurs against your skin. Slowly, you oblige, tilting your head so your eyes meet his in the mirror. He grins, pressing his mouth against your neck and humming pleasantly as he sucks on the skin gently, beginning to move in and out of you,

"Jesus, Eds, you're really deep," You exhale, pressing your face back into the pillow to silence yourself. His lips detatch from your neck and move to your back, nipping at the skin. You can feel yourself clenching around him, "Eddie," You whine,

"What?" He grins pleasantly against your skin "You like that?" He murmurs lowly, the pace of his thrusts increasing, squeezing your hips gently,

"Mhm," You hum, looking at him through the mirror, "A lot,"

The sound of skin slapping skin soon fills the room as he speeds up, mixed with your soft moans and his gentle grunts and groans of pleasure. As much as you want to watch the images of you fucking in the mirror, you can't contain the way your eyes are rolling back into your skull, your moans growing louder the more vigorous his thrusts become,

"Christ- you feel so good," He hisses, ramming his hips into yours hard,

"Eddie- fuck, I'm gonna cum," You moan beneath him, feeling one of his hands move to start quickly rubbing his fingers against your clit,

His touch alone is enough to make you come undone, moaning loudly into the pillow as your pussy clenches around him. That's all it takes for him to finish, spilling himself inside the condom with groans and moans of your name leaving his lips as he stills inside you, breathing heavily.

You find yourself unable to move, exhausted and trapped by Eddie's hands still leaving a bruising grip on the flesh of your hips, caging you to the bed. You feel a weight on your back, and opening an eye to look in the mirror, you find Eddie leaning down over you, forehead touching your back. He's smiling, and you watch him move a shaky hand from the side of the bed to touch your leg. Soothingly, he caresses where his fingernails pressed cresent-shaped indents into your flesh. Your eyes fall shut again, and it feels like you're flying. Like your falling asleep still drunk.

The first thing you feel when you come back to reality is his lips pressing to your shoulder blade, moving up to your neck. Then his hair is tickling your skin as he reaches your shoulder. Then you hear your name leaving his lips in a soft whisper. The hand moving against your leg moves to gently grip your arm, squeezing once,

"You okay?" His voice is soft; you can still hear his laboured breaths, the warmth fanning over your cheek. He's right next to your ear, quiet not to startle you. With a small, reassuring hum, and a slight nod of your head, he finally moves. With a sigh, his arms unhook themselves from around your waist and he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and still so, so tired.

You can feel the bed dip and move as he moves off of it, pausing at the edge, before standing up. There's more shuffling around, and you hear a zip. It could either be the sipper of his jeans or his bag. Either way, he's dressed. He leaves momentarily, only to return shortly after,

"Hey," His hand gently touches your shoulder and you tiredly lift your head, blinking up at him. He's holding a cloth, "Let me help you clean up, okay babe?" Eddie smiles and helps you lift yourself up to sit, "You're also gonna have to drink that," He motions to the cup of water beside your bed. You must have dozed off and not realised he went downstairs to get it. Smiling tiredly you nod, cleaning yourself off and grabbing the water, "I'm gonna take a shower by the way," He says once you set the glass down. He moves to stand near the bed, reaching out to move some hair behind your ear and letting his hand slowly move from your face to your chin. He tilts your head up so you're looking at him, "You did so well for me," He mutters; your heart flutters at the praise, "If you're that tired, you're welcome to go back to sleep. I can deal with a few minutes alone," He tells you playfully, before leaning down to kiss your head. Though his offer is tempting, considering how heavy your limbs feel and how your eyes are struggling to remain open, you groan and flop back on the bed, "Back to sleep it is," He smiles. Before he leaves, he grabs a blanket you'd discarded on your desk chair, delicately draping it over your form before your reality and consciousness fade away.

"Hey," You can't remember the dream you were having, it fades away before you can even process it, but nonetheless, Eddie's voice brings you back from sleep. It's a small whisper, from somewhere far away in your room. You can hardly hear him, though you stir as he approaches, "Did you fall asleep?" He asks- you can hear the smile in his voice. The fresh smell of apple scented shampoo hits you, and a smile involuntarily comes to your lips, "Shit- did I wake you?" He asks. You open your eyes and tilt your head, finding him watching you with an apologetic look. His hair's still damp,

"Yeah- but it's okay," You hum, groaning slightly as you stretch out on your bed and rub your eyes,

"Sorry," You hear him mumble, and the bed dips as he moves to sit down next to you. When you finish with your eyes, you blink slowly at him. He's holding out a black shirt to you, very likely his. It smells clean though. Looking back at him, there's a loving smile on his lips, "Need me to bring you anything, my love? Breakfast in bed?" Though he means well, the sentence makes you laugh. You stretch your hand out towards him to grab the shirt, fingers skimming over the fabric,

"Is it gonna be cereal again?" You ask playfully, and he laughs to himself. On your first valentines days together, he had brought you a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with two spoons, and though it was ridiculous, you greatly appreciated it,

"It can be," He smiles, as he moves the shirt closer to you, then leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I'm gonna head down but I can make you coffee," He tells you. One of his hands moves up to shift some hair from your face, your eyes falling shut at the gesture, "Still tired?" He asks in amusement,

"Who's fault do you think that is?" You tease, opening your eyes to catch the flash of his teeth as he laughs. He kisses the side of your head, then your lips and stands,

"I'll see you downstairs, babe," Eddie tells you, "Don't sleep for too long!" You sit up, bunching the sheets around you and rubbing at your eyes,

"Or what? You'll get bored without me?" He stops at your door, catching himself on the door frame. He tilts his head to look at you with a grin,

"Sure. I might just drop dead from heartbreak," He winks playfully,

"Please don't," You frown, giving him a pleading look. He simply grins,

"No promises," He places his fingers to his lips and motions towards you and you laugh loudly, flopping back on the bed. You hear the sound of his footsteps descending down the hall, then the stairs, and then it goes quiet. You let out a sigh. You are exhausted, but you don't want to fall back asleep. In general, you just feel tired- not lazy, just tired. You don't want to move...

But you have to. You don't want to waste the day, especially considering how little time you have left with Eddie. A small frown crosses your lips- this'll be over soon. Living together like this with no worries. Just living... Alone. It was so calm and pleasant. Even during your breaks from school, you wouldn't get a lot of peace- your siblings running rampant through the house at the asscrack of dawn and not letting you get any rest when you most deserved it, or bursting into your room and trying to distract you from your work.

Though you loved your family, you realised quickly how much more... Relieving it was to be without them. Though you missed them, you didn't want them to come back. If you could just stay like this, with Eddie, and occasionally your cat... It'd be perfect.

You never fully believed in the idea of soulmates. Sure, you'd see love on the television and in movies but never imagined you'd find anything remotely similar... Then along came Eddie. He loved you... He loved you, he loved you. And you loved him back, and would be perfectly content spending every single waking moment in his company.

He wasn't even gone for a whole ten minutes and you already missed him... You stretched out your legs, wincing slightly at the burn in your muscles and sat up. You should wash your hair...

Eddie isn't in the living room or kitchen when you get down, still messing with your freshly washed and dried hair, though the back door is open and plumes of smoke can be seen from outside the window. You turn the radio on downstairs, catching the end of the weather forecast. You smile in relief as the announcer forecasts that it'll rain later today.

You make a quick breakfast of toast- forgetting how good such a simple thing as bread and butter could be- and sip on the warm coffee made by your boyfriend. His empty mug is already in the sink, though you find no plate. You make him toast as well, cutting the two slices into forths and picking one up, sticking it between your teeth,

"Hey, babe?" Eddie's voice calls out from outside, causing you to tilt your head towards the sound. There are more clouds in the sky than there was yesterday,

"What's up?" You ask, briefly removing the toast from your lips. Hearing no response from him intrigues you. Picking up the plate, you slowly make your way through the open garden door, "Eddie?" You ask curiously, looking out into the garden.

Eddie is crouched out in the grass, far back in your yard, cigarette idly smoking from between his lips and twitching slightly as he talks so quietly you can't hear him. He's still shirtless, the morning sun warming his back and heating his wavy hair. In the soft light of morning, you could see the dark curls were a wonderful dark brown. Next to him, Clara rolled on her back, paws wildly swatting at a piece of grass he waved around for her like a toy, occasionally stopping to let her catch it before prying it from her grasp to flick it over her face. This time, she catches it in her mouth and bites it; you watch him struggle to pry it from her grip. Your lips curl into a smile as you hear him laugh gently, saying something to her, and turning his head glancing around in search of a longer grass stem. He plucks it, glancing at her and making a face, saying something again, before waving the new grass piece over her. She pauses in chewing, before attacking wildly at the new blade of grass.

The sight alone warms you more than the sunlight, spreading through your chest and heating your cheeks are you take a step out onto the grass, the fresh morning dew cooling the bottoms of your bare feet. He glances up once he realises you're outside and moves a hand to shield his eyes from the light. Playfully you stick you tongue out at him,

"Hey," He says with a grin, teeth glistening in the light,

"Hi, Eddie," You say,

"What d'you have?" He asks before you can say anything else. You shift so you stand in front of the sun so he doesn't have to squint up at you. He nods to the plate in your hands as he takes a drag of the cigarette,

"Just some toast and butter," You tell him, lowering the plate to show him the few slices. He gasps quietly to himself as if you're showing him something truly great, like state secrets or a five-star, gourmet meal. He eagerly reaches for a slice, biting into it with a grin,

"Mmm, yum," He says over a mouthful. You laugh- but you can't blame him. This was your third slice just this morning, it was simply that good, "Thanks!" He adds, glancing back at Clara. You glance between them, watching him expectantly as he now reaches his hand down to pet her head,

"You called for me?" You remind as you straighten up. He looks back at you, confused at first, before he lights up, nodding,

"Oh, yeah-" Eddie straightens quickly, brushing some grass that clung to his jeans, before looking back at you. He quickly finishes the toast and you smile at the sight of some crumbs sticking to his cheek. You look at him curiously, before glancing down at Clara as she meows, her face meeting your leg as she rubs against it. From your peripheral, you can see one of Eddie's hands it tucked behind his back. He removes it, handing you something. Your eyes widen at the small gathering of field flowers in his hand, "Got these for you," He says happily, eagerly presenting them to you,

"I-" The words you want to say escape you, losing themselves somewhere on your tongue. You find yourself only blinking at him, then at the makeshift bouquet. With a small smile, you reach for them, hand brushing his warm skin as you turned them over. Your fingers gently skin over the tiny petals, "Why did...?" You begin quizzically, though you still can't find the right words. Besides, the bright smile on your face was making your cheeks hurt,

"Cause I wanted to," He says simply, the cigarette returning between his lips as he takes a drag. One of his hands moves to your face, touching your cheek delicately. His long fingers curl under your chin to prompt you to tilt your head up to him. When your eyes meet his, he moves the cig away, quickly pressing his lips against yours. The smoke enters your mouth as his tongue parts your lips, quickly moving against yours. With a surprised moan, you kissed him back, though he pulls away, to your disappointment, a large grin spreading across his lips,

"Wha...?" You feel dazed, head spinning,

"I thought they were pretty. Like you," He tilts his head, winking at you and patting your face gently, before his attention focuses back on your cat, "Ew, what are you doing, Clary?" He says as he crouches back down to meet her,

The kiss had left you starstruck, courtesy of him shotgunning the smoke to you, and along with the sweet gesture of gathering up flowers for you, your heart pounded in your chest, clenching with emotion. Holy fucking shit... Glancing back down, you let out an involuntary, happy laugh, setting a hand on his head and ruffling his pleasantly, sun-warmed hair,

"She eats grass to help her with digestion and stuff like that," You said softly, once you'd regained your composure, eyes flicking back to the bunch of daisies in your hand,

"Like a little cow," He smiled, reaching out to poke her nose, then standing back up next to you, leaving Clara to eat the grass. Your hand remained in his hair, allowing itself to tangle in the locks hanging by his shoulders. He turned his head to look at you with a small, fond smile, before leaning closer to you as if he wanted to kiss you again. He said your name instead, prompting you to hum inquisitively, "When you're not looking, I'm gonna steal your cat," He said with a toothy grin, making you laugh as he taps the ash off his cigarette off to the side,

"Eddie- no, please don't steal my cat," You grin, glancing at Clara. She had moved to watch you, then let out a small meow as she moved a few paces into the comforting shade of one of the apple trees, laying down on the cool grass, "See? She likes it here," You gesture to her,

"She likes it there 'cause you're not there," He teases, pointing to her with two fingers, the cig between them. You let your jaw go slack in mock shock, though you laughed and smacked his shoulder with your fingertips,

"She's my cat and I feed her every day?" You smiled, moving to stand in front of him,

"Mmm- that's not true. I fed her this morning," He said proudly, "And why did she leave as soon as you came over huh?" He grins,

"Wait you fed her?" He nods, "But I also fed her..." You glance at Clara, dozing happily in the shade by a couple of green apples, prematurely fallen and rotting brown. Eddie hums, and shrugs,

"Guess she's eating like a king!" He grins,

"No, you can't overfeed her, Eddie," You smile, "Otherwise, she gets greedy and swats at us until we feed her,"

"Aww, she can eat as much food as she wants," He says, grinning and walking to her again, petting her,

"Eddie, she can't," You join him, crouching next to him and gently petting her head. She purrs contently at the two hands scratching her head and chin,

"King Clara... That's got a ring to it, you know?" He smiles, glancing over at you and grabbing the final slice of toast from the plate, biting it, "I'll make you a little crown to wear," he tells the cat proudly. She leans forward, sniffing at the slice in his hands, and you watch as he breaks off a small piece, holding it out for her,

"Eddie, no," You say, sighing as she eagerly eats it, "We're not supposed to feed her human food or she'll steal it from our plates," You tell him,

"Boring," He says, patting Clara's head and eating the toast, "Come live with me, oh fair and great King Clara- I'll feed you sardines and buttered toast all day," You laugh at his proposal,

"Damn, that sounds... Extravagant," You stand, grinning at him, "And with a crown all to herself? Why can't I have one?"

"You're not a cat," He stands too, catching you rolling your eyes,

"C'mon, Eds," You smiled, "Let's go back inside before you get sunburned," You smiled, "You're so pale," You prodded the skin of his shoulder, smiling at the white ring your finger left behind in his skin and how rapidly it faded to the gentle red. He hisses,

"Ahh, a little late for that, sweetheart," He smiled, though nod towards your house and fall into step beside you as you walked back,

"Eddie-" You sighe, shaking your head,

"How can I resist the lovely weather outside?" He said sarcastically, gesturing to the cloudy sky, "Besides, aren't you gonna take care of me?" You roll your eyes as you walk inside,

"That's not my job," You tease,

"Bet you'd want it to be your job," He mumbles playfully, leaning his face close to yours. With a laugh and another eye roll, you set your hand on his face to gently push him away,

"Nah. I wouldn't want to be paid for something I already do from the kindness in my heart," You said playfully, winking at him,

"Romantic," He comments, "Do you have any cardboard on hand?" You furrow your brows at his request, "For the crown?"

"You were serious?"

"Yeah, and I also need some paints," He tells you, a grin on his lips. With a hum, you glance into the living room and go to your storage closet, digging through all the stuff thrown in there. Boxes of Christmas decorations; old toys no one wanted anymore. You make a face at a teddy bear you couldn't fall asleep without when you were a child, reaching out to poke its button nose and glancing up at the one button eye. Damn. Memories. Glancing through the dim room, your eyes set on the box with 'art stuff' roughly scrawled on it, with a flat piece of cardboard next to it. You grab it, pull it out and throw it outside on the floor for Eddie to take, 

"I think there should be some paint here" You call to him, grabbing the box and taking it outside to see through it more clearly. You smile at the unopened box of paints, handing it up to him,

"Thanks!" He grins, taking them from you and opening them,

"They're unopened too," You tell him, "Oh, you can paint that in the living room if you want," You offer, "We can watch TV,"

"Sure," He says, "Damn, we really counted on 'The Thing' to entertain us for a whole week," He huffs,

"Yeah," You frown, glancing towards the living room, "I don't really feel like leaving the house today though," You frown at him, seeing him nod,

"Me either- do you have any paper plates?" He asks, "If you put paint on them you can just throw it away instead of cleaning them," He smiles as you go looking,

"Sure," You mutter as you search for a plate for him, lost in thought, "Hmm... Oh, you know what-" You quickly add, sliding the plate over the table and quickly running up the stairs. Though your oldest brother specifically hated you going into his room, he wasn't here to scream and yell at you for touching his stuff now. It almost surprised you the door wasn't barred shut from your curious snooping when you got to his room. You quickly made your way to his VHS collection, flipping through the movies.

The asshole had bought 'Alien' for himself behind your back. You could still clearly recall how he told you it was the scariest thing he'd seen when you left the theatre that evening. 'Ghostbusters' and 'Neverending Story' were also there- along with a few more horror films you didn't recognise and a couple of Disney films you had enjoyed from your childhood.  You grabbed a few of the tapes before heading downstairs,

"Woah- where'd you find those?" Eddie asks. He moved to the living room like you had offered, sitting on the floor at the coffee table, legs stretched out under it. The box of 'art stuff' was open next to him, the things inside having clearly been rifled through. There's some paintbrushes placed bristles down in a cup of water, and there's already some paint on the paper plate you got him. Currently, he's cutting a rectangle out of the card, making sure the edges are even. Clara is laying in his lap as he smokes another cigarette, an ashtray sitting beside him on the table, along with various materials strewn around the coffee table,

"My brother- I knew he had a few tapes but I didn't know he had such..." You sit on the couch and push a few things away, setting the tapes down one by one on the table, "A collection," You say,

"He's seen 'The Shining'?" He asks amused, taking the tape and looking over it,

"Apparently," You shrug,

"This is the same brother who started crying when the xenomorph came out of Kane's chest?" He asks amused as you start laughing at the memory,

"Yeah- I laughed at him the whole way home," You grin as you wave the 'Alien' VHS around and set it down. It's in far better condition than the one you rented. His eyes widen,

"He has it!?" Eddie grabs that tape eagerly, looking it over,

"I guess. He's either really into Sigourney Weaver, or he's not a pussy anymore," You smirk, glancing over the other tapes. Eddie snorts,

"He's just really into Sigourney Weaver, babe," He teases, grinning as he hands you back the tape. You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder, "'Chopping Mall'?" He says, furrowing his brows at the tape,

"Yeah, I haven't heard of it before. Something about... Robots? Killing people in a mall?" You shrug. He hisses,

"Maybe your brother just likes watching robots kill people..." He takes a drag of his cigarette, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "Does he, by any chance..." He smirks as you give him a sceptical look, "Like the 'Terminator'?" You pause to think,

"Yes... He does..." You hum, "He's got a big poster of the... Yeah," You nod in realisation,

"Maybe he's a nihilist," Eddie says, looking proud of himself,

"Yeah. Or an anarchist," You shrug,

"Mmmh- he would dress like an anarchist if he was one," He says, putting the cigarette back between his teeth and reaching for a paintbrush. He begins painting on the small rectangle of cardboard in plain white, "Nihilist,"

"Anarchy's more about watching the world burn right?" You say, "Nihilism is the whole 'life is meaningless' bullshit," He glances up at you, "If we're talking robots killing humans, that's anarchy,"

"Anarchy is standing up to 'the man'," Eddie corrects, "Chaos, if you will. Disorder," he adds, glancing back at the cardboard he's painting, "Wanting to watch robots kill humans..." He pauses,

"I don't think there's a term for that," You hum,

"No- why would there be?" He smiles, "Unless..." Eddie turns to you, eyes wide,

"Unless what?"

"Unless your brother is a robot," You laugh, "It makes sence- why else would he like all those robot-killing-humans movies?"

"Maybe he just likes that?" You laugh still,

"Or-" Eddie gives you a look, "-He's a killer robot in disguise," He adds,

"You can ask him if you really wanna know," You say, picking up 'The Shining' tape. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking back to your thoughts earlier that morning and thinking, "After all, he's coming home in like... Three days," You say, dejected. Eddie glances up at you, picking up on your tone shift,

"What's up?" He asks, putting the paintbrush back in the water pot and picking his cigarette up from where he'd let it rest in the ashtray while he painted,

"It's... We only have three days left together," You frown softly, setting the rest of the tapes on the ground and moving to lie down on your back, "Then my family gets back and we won't be together anymore," You finally realise,

"Already missing me?" He smiles, trying to lift the mood,

"You know what I mean, Eds," You sigh as you glance over at him. Because your head's tilted to an angle, he tilts his too, making you smile and roll your eyes,

"We'll still be together," Eddie reminds you, "Just because we won't be together physically all the time. You can always come over to the trailer for a sleepover," He adds, "Wayne works the nights at the plant,"

"I guess," You sigh, "But that's not the same..." You fall quiet. Maybe you said too much. The last thing you would want is to scare him away by being too open. After all, you only just said 'I love you' to one another,

"Why?" He asks, watching you. You don't want to reply, don't want to admit your true feelings. He calls your name, prompting you to look at him again, "What's going on? You're being really quiet," He points out, 

"You never complain that I'm too quiet," You huff, watching him smile,

"And I never will. Be as loud as you want, sweetheart," He smiles. Watching your face fall and look back at the ceiling makes him hum. Eddie carefully moves Clara off his lap, patting her head in apology and stubbing out the cigarette, before shuffling over to you. He leans against the arm of the couch, looking down at you, "What's on your mind?" He asks, 

"It's scary," You say in a quiet voice, moving your hand over your eyes so you won't have to look at him, 

"Scary how? Oh God, you're not planning on killing me are you?" He laughs at his own joke. You oblige him with a slight smile, "Are you the human killing robot?" He adds. You do appreciate his attempts at making you feel better but your mind is focused elsewhere, "Hey, c'mon laugh that was funny," He taps your hand, making you laugh softly, 

"Sorry, sorry," You say, moving your hand above your head and sighing. You can feel his fingers gently touching the center of your palm. You meet his eyes again, the warm brown calming your worries for a moment. Maybe he'll think it's weird, but he'll listen. You know he will, "You... Ever think about the future?" You ask softly, 

"Sure," He shrugs, "Though mine doesn't include robots killing humans, I still think about it," He smiles, "Why?"

"I... After High school. What do you think you'll be doing?" He goes quiet for a moment, thinking, 

"Maybe... I'll get a job?" He says, "Wayne taught me how to fix the van, considering we were a little tight on cash last summer and couldn't take it down to get it fixed at the car shop. And my dear old dad taught me a thing or two about cars," He says with resentment, "I think I could pick a few things up there," He shrugs, "Play at the Hideout on the side," He looks at you, "Make enough money to get you and me out of here," The statement catches you off guard,

"You... And me?" You ask, sitting up slightly and turning to look at him with a quizzical look, 

"Me and you, babe," He smiles watching you. He brings a knee up and leans his arm on it with a small sigh, the puppetmaster tattoo on the inside of his arm becomes visible to you, "But yeah," He shrugs, "If you wanna come with me, we'll leave together,"

"Leave where?" You can't help the smile now spreading across your lips, 

"Anywhere you want," He smiles, "As long as you promice we can bring Clara," At that you laugh, 

"Oh, right I forgot you were only here for my cat," You say, smiling as she climbs into Eddie's lap again, 

"Yeah," He grins, scratching behind her ears, "We can't leave her behind," He says, glancing up at you with a pout, 

"Right," You say, "Even though she's my family cat?"

"They won't mind," He waves a hand at you as you laugh, "But yeah. Is that what you've been worried about?" He looks back at you, 

"Well yeah," You shrug, "And I just thought... We haven't been together that long-"

"Seven months isn't long for you?" He asks surprised, 

"It is! I mean- I feel like I've known and been with you for so long it feels like forever- if that even makes sense," You smile, "Just... I don't know- I think I was worried over nothing again," He chuckles softly, 

"That's kinda sweet," He glances from Clara back up to you, smirking when you make a face, "At least I know you like me for real now," He says, 

"You had doubts?" You ask playfully,

"Not doubts," Eddie assures you quickly, "It's more like... Reassurance of something I already knew," He said, watching you for a moment. 

Finding someone like him was truly remarkable, and you'd be forever thankful Mr Richards had seated you near the metalhead, and that you had offered him help with his History assignment. You'd been happier than ever before for those delightful seven months, and his casual assurance he wanted you around for more than that made your heart soar. Before you could cry over him again, you sit up, 

"Where're you going?" Eddie asks, amused as you quickly hop over the back of the couch and head for the stairs, 

"I'll come back!" You yell, running up the stairs, 

"Can you bring me a shirt!?" He yells after you. You're back in less than a minute, throwing the shirt over to him so it lands on the couch. He moved back to where he was sitting at the coffee table, going over the white again, "Thanks!" He says, setting the paintbrush down so he can put the shirt on, "Why did-" His eyes flick over the item in your hands as you sit back on the couch with a grin.

"You never showed me that magic trick of yours," You grin at him, extending the pack of cards in one hand toward him. His mouth opens, before he grins and takes the cards from you,

"What magic trick?" He grins as he begins to shuffle through them,

"Where you lying?" You accuse,

"No, no! I was being serious! I just didn't think you'd actually wanna see it," He says, glancing from you to the cards,

"Of course I'd want to see," You smile, "Are you gonna find an 'Ace of Spades' for me?" You smile knowingly, hearing the Motörhead song start playing on the radio. Eddie laughs to himself, before he stops shuffling and lifts his head up to listen to the song. You laugh loudly as he gasps, 

"Did you-" He grins, 

"I did!" You laugh, 

"Nice," He chuckles, "You wanna see the magic or not?" He says, 

"I do, I do," You smile, watching as he pats the floor in front of the couch, silently asking you to join him. You watch him fan out the cards for you, "Pick any?" You ask as you reach for the cards, 

"Not that one!" He grins as you pull your hand away, "I'm kidding, pick any, yeah," Hum softly, taking a card from the fan, 

"Do I tell you?" 

"You can tell me,"

"It's the nine of hearts," You say, flipping it around to show him as he moves the card back to their pile, 

"That's a good card," Eddie smiles, "Put it at the top here," He says, tapping the cards, "Okay, watch," He tells you, halving the deck of cards and shuffling it, "Okay, it's shuffled right? But you're gonna find your own card," He stopping shuffling and holding the deck out, "I'm gonna go through it, you say stop," He says, ruffling the cards, 

"Stop," You say, watching his hands intently. He opens the cards, and flips the one you stopped at, "Holy shit, what the fuck?" You grin at the nine of hearts, "How d-"

"Magicians don't reveal their secrets!" He quickly says, smiling as he shuffles the deck again, 

"But we're dating! You can tell me," You grin, 

"Nope, it doesn't work like that," You pout, "It's all sleight of hand, that's as much as I'll say," 

"Sleight of hand," You mutter sarcastically, 

"Yeah, it means I'm good with my hands," He sets the deck back down with a cocky smile. You roll your eyes, "I'm not hearing any complaints," You laugh as he pats your knee and turns back to painting, "So are we watching 'The Shining' or 'Neverending Story'?" He asks, 

"I'd rather see the spooky murder hotel and not Artax dying," You say, grabbing the tape with Jack Torrance's unhinged face and standing, 

"It's 'REDRUM', babe," He grins as he grabs the yellow paint, covering the layers of built-up white,

"Right, how could I forget," You smile as you set the tape into your player and move to grab some beers from the kitchen, 

"Have you read the book?" He calls out to you, 

"Have you?" You ask back, 

"Yeah," He smiles, "Steven King knows a few things about horror," He smiles, 

"Just a few?" You tease as you join him again, setting the beer down for him and moving to sit on the couch, 

"Just a few," He winks at you as you click play on the remote.

#eddie munson #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie #eddie munson x reader smut #joesph quinn #joe quinn