#Couch to Compost

[turtlesandfrogs]

Ok, now I'm really concerned that how to prevent rats isn't common knowledge like I thought it was. So, to anyone whose parents/guardians/adults didn't teach you, here's the basics of prevention*:

Rats, like you, need three things: food, water, and shelter. If they don't get these things, they don't bother sticking around. Access to food is probably the biggest draw, and the one you can do the most about.

Rats eat the same foods you do, and the same food that most pets eat. You don't want them to have access to this food, so:

Don't leave dirty dishes laying around, the smell will attract rats. Don't put leave dirty dishes in your bed room, or under the couch, or in your car, or whatever. Dishwashers are great, but if you don't have a functional one, and you're low on energy/executive function, at a minimum cover your dirty dishes with soapy water instead of leaving them out. Rats can't eat soapy food.

Work to minimize food waste, because the smell of tasty food in your compost or garbage will attract rats.

Don't put food scraps in your indoor garbage unless your garbage can is rat proof. Take it outside asap, to a rat-proof bin.

When composting, if you're composting food that would be attractive to rats (grains, fats/oils, dairy, meat) it's best to: bury the food down in the center of the pile, try out bokashi composting, or have a rat-proof composter. Generally people do tell you not to compost dairy and meat, but I do know that some people do it anyway.

Keep your grains & legumes in rodent proof-containers. Glass jars, metal trash cans, etc.

If you have dogs, put their food away at night. If you have birds or other animals that eat a seed-based diet, then it pays to make their food/enclosures inaccessible to rats as well. Cats are rat deterrents so leaving dry food out for them is probably the one exception.

Clean up spilled foods immediately.

If you have fruit trees (like those apple trees everyone has that were planted 3 or more decades ago) and notice that something besides a deer is eating them, it's really best to pick all the fruit. You probably can't eat it all, so giving it away is a good option. Compost the rotten/icky ones fallowing the advice above, or dig a hole and do some trench composting.

Rats also need water, which is another reason to make sure you don't have any leaks anywhere, and to not leave beverages out in open containers.

Beyond that, thoroughly looking around your house, inside and out, to make sure there's no access points. Vents can be covered with wire mesh, holes the size of a dime need to be patched (because mice exist, too). Keep vegetation clear from around the base of your house, and make sure there's no trees or shrubs growing close enough to your house that a rat could make the leap to your roof. Keep an eye out for tunnels near your house's foundation, because they will tunnel underneath.

Also, while I'm at it, for the love of your house's structural integrity, DO NOT store wood piles against your house. Termites people!!!

And yes, there's a reason why cats are such a common pet. Not only do they hunt rats, the very smell of a cat is enough to deter rats. Do not just get a cat for rat prevention though, only get a cat if you're going to provide it a good home and are able to take on the additional care tasks without over extending yourself. Getting a housemate that comes with a cat is a great alternative to getting your own cat (and I'm only halfway joking).

*because prevention is much easier and much less terrible than dealing with an infestation. Prevention is so, so, so much easier than getting rid of them, particularly because once they're there, they'll start eating other things that wouldn't have been enough by themselves to draw them in.

#adulting #cleanliness is in large part pest prevention

[shotmrmiller]

Got a good one I thought of at work today. (Not a request).

You work at a hardware store and one of the boys walks in, we’ll use ghost so this makes sense. Ghost frequently buys items that scream serial killer. Trash bags, shovels, ropes, rocks of different kinds. On occasion he’ll buy something else, but these are the main items. He starts asking you questions one day and it turns out he does a lot of home repair and gardening. Eventually Ghost asks you out on a group date and he shows you his house and yard and the garden. All completely normal. But what you don’t see are the flesh buried under his garden beds. The corpses he has sunk at the bottom of the super deep pond in his back yard that the fish are eating. You don’t see the skeletons he has stashed and waiting to be ground and tossed into his compost.

You also definitely don’t see what he has hidden at houses he’s worked on that will never be traced back to him. And you sure as hell don’t see what Ghost’s friends are doing to help hide each others tracks.

you also find it kind of strange that he keeps asking you what kind of color rug you think would match the walls of the living room best. or if he should put plants around. if yes, what kind? what do you think of the pretty pond in the backyard? what color couches should he get?

no no. he'll have interior decor magazines lying around, open on very specific pages depending on the room it's in. you've an eye for these things, he knows. he's seen your carefully decorated home.

he also knows that you fuss about your own potted plants like a mother would a child. every morning, you spray water on your little succulents and hanging marble pothos. coo at them in that sweet, kind voice he's grown to love over the months he's been watching you through your own cameras.

he's not disappointed when you spot his fern in some forgotten corner, begging for water and some sun. he does tense, however, when you trip over his carefully placed rug, the corner of it folding. luckily, you're a feisty woman on a mission, your eyes locked on his dying plant, so he quickly foots the rug back into place, the faded stain of crimson no longer in view.

he should really switch out his carpet for easier to clean tile.

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part nineteen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen

-

Finally, finally, finally, after the shopping has been done, and his stupid signature leather jacket has been adjusted, and Genesis has given his final bitchy warning about not acting out of character, finally… Sephiroth can have some peace and quiet.

Some day off! Not that the sparring wasn't great, and the clothes were frankly desperately needed, even if he couldn't make his usual colours fit right. All that aside though, he really needs time to himself! There's still so much to figure out! And he really needs to meditate. He needs to sort himself out! And he also, probably, needs to make use of Shinra's archive and records and study some history.

He also really needs a proper mirror in his little single room apartment. The bathroom mirror isn't enough to appreciate the new clothes. To think he used to hate dressing up formally as Shen Yuan. The difference of a few years as Peak Lord makes! And admittedly, Shen Yuan could've never looked anywhere near as good as Sephiroth in a suit like this. Sephiroth, really, looks just too good. Fit for a thousand magazine covers. Which is fitting because he's pretty sure Sephiroth has been on magazine covers back on earth! Which is kinda weird from this perspective! Famous in another world sounds like a damn isekai light novel title. 

Ah, but then his whole life is a mockery of the genre.

Dropping his shopping bags by the wardrobe and his new coats over its door, Sephiroth throws himself on his couch and sighs, running a hand through his long bangs.

He has clothing, his room still needs some improvements and will never be Qing Jing Peak, but it will do. Those were the easiest things to cover, really, and now that they're done, now that he's spent several hours getting used to this body and how it looks and who he's supposed to be… the world he's now part of…

Is he really just going to be Sephiroth from here on out? Is he supposed to forget PIDW and Binghe and Cang Qiong Mountain Sect? Just go on being Sephiroth, and put Shen Qingqiu behind him?

… He really isn't sure he can, actually! In a way, Shen Qingqiu had suited him better than Shen Yuan had. Well, once the OOC restrictions had come off and he was free to be himself, anyway. Being a soldier, a super SOLDIER at that, with alien DNA and the lifeblood of the planet in his guts… 

Resting a hand on his stomach, Sephiroth tugs at the blood red shirt he has on.

It's… really a bit like he's Binghe now. He's an alien hybrid thing here, so it's kind of like being a half demon! Or, ah, weirdly accurate biblical angel? What with the angel wing motif these games have going for themselves… Sephiroth's final form was kinda eldritch, from what he recalls. Wings sticking out every which way. Ridiculous and over the top in a way only Final Fantasy can be!

Damn but he hopes he can grow wings at some point. That would be just so cool, he doesn't even care how ludicrous it would get. The whole thing about wings being cause for existential monster angst is a thing he probably would need to consider, but, seriously. Wings! Yes, please, thank you!

It's the lifeblood of the planet that bothers him the most. Not just because of the oil allegory.

It's also how the local reincarnation cycle works. Though it's more like a spiritual composting rather than straight up reincarnation - but still! The energy pumped into his veins comes from the souls of dead things.

Yeah, he can't ignore that anymore.

Sitting up, Sephiroth gets out of the dress pants he'd bought and the button up shirt, switching back to the more comfortable pyjama pants and t-shirt he started the day with. He takes a moment to put purchases away and tidy his room up to peak Feng Shui before sitting down on his bed.

The energy in his gut is thick, massive and near immovable. He'd read up on Mako as much as there was to be read on his phone. The cycle went something like Lifestream to Mako to Materia - so, in the right conditions, the stuff actually crystallises. So, in a way, Materia is spirit stones! And that's kinda what it feels like in his gut - like his energies are condensing, hardening under pressure… crystallising. Except not into a golden core, nah, just one big shapeless lump of dead-weight-energy.

Well, not on his watch!

Relaxing and breathing in and then slowly out, Sephiroth thinks about all the Cultivation tricks he learned cultivating with damaged spiritual veins and incurable poison. Here he kind of has the opposite problem than with Shen Qingqiu, though - Sephiroth's spiritual veins aren't worn and fragile, they're hardened, like… scar tissue. He really feels a bit burnt on the inside!

Shinra's method was all quantity over quality where it comes to this stuff. Brute forcing their way into a semi-functional magic system, and who cares if it scorches the earth when there's instant profit to be made!

What a truly subtle metaphor.

Well… Shen Qingqiu has worked with worse - and at least there's a lot to work with! So as long as Sephiroth manages to avoid the Qi-deviation of the century, he will have one hell of a golden core! Just gotta not burn himself inside out! No pressure!

Qi Condensation stage - done! He couldn't have done better himself.  Foundation Establishment, however… yeah. Sephiroth really has a great body, but it is not prepared for a Golden Core Formation. His energy flow is all whack.

No wonder he cracked like an egg at the slightest bit of mental pressure… a bit like the original goods Shen Qingqiu, really, with his many Qi-deviations.

Right. Never mind that! He has a lot of work and not all the time in the world, alas. No seclusion training in this world!

Time to get to it.

#Fanfiction #svsss #ffvii #ff7 #Shen Qingqiu #Shen Yuan #Sephiroth

[aurumacadicus]

were u sad by the beginning? were u touched by the story? were u moved by the main characters personalities? tell us more.

Pixar said "What if we made found family for a grumpy old man that consisted of a child whose father is absent and a dog who can talk (and exclusively uses this simply to tell that grumpy old man "I love you")" and I ate that up with a spoon. Anyway.

--

Peter sighed, leaning his cheek on his hand. Saturday number eight ruined, just like the seven before it. "You know, at this point, my advisor would accept me taking out your trash as community service."

"Don't have trash," Steve grumped, not turning from his television.

Peter scowled, even though he knew it was true. For some reason, Steve was really into recycling and composting. It wasn't a bad thing, of course, but it left him with a whopping three things to throw away during the week (the nurses had told him), which he stuffed in his friend's wastebasket when he joined them for dinner on Thursdays. He didn't need to be pushed around in a wheelchair, he didn't need his sparsely decorated apartment cleaned or reorganized, and he didn't need anyone to cook for him.

Which was his problem. Steve had been his assigned elder when his community service advisor had had the bright idea for their class to help out a senior home, and he had nothing for Peter to do. Ned had gotten a neat old lady named Peggy, and MJ had gotten the terrifying but cordial couple next door, Natasha and Bucky. Hell, even Flash had gotten a jovial old man who sometimes insisted he was Norse god. And here Peter was. With Steve.

Now, granted, his advisor had offered to pair him with someone else a couple weeks ago, but Peter had decided he was going to out-stubborn Steve. He had time. Steve didn't. Steve would have to break eventually.

"I could go get you an organic blueberry smoothie," Peter offered, just to see what would happen.

"No," Steve answered, not looking at him.

Peter glanced around the apartment. "I could... take your laundry to the laundry room?"

"No," Steve said again.

Peter's eyes caught on a worn paperback sat spread on the coffee table. "I could get you a couple more of those thrillers."

"No," Steve said, and began to puff up, like he had every other time before he told Peter in no uncertain terms to stop trying to help him and go away.

"If you really wanted to help him," Sam said, amused, as he came into the apartment with a to-go bag from the diner two blocks away. "You'd find his boyfriend for him."

"Sam," Steve barked, at the same time Peter bolted to his feet and exclaimed, "Captain Rogers has a boyfriend?!"

"I don't," Steve told him sharply, then scowled at Sam, more sourly than he usually did when Sam dropped his forbidden lore. "Stop saying that, Sam."

"Stop being a sourpuss and let Peter get his community service credit then," Sam scoffed, pulling out a burger and handing it to him.

Steve looked like he'd sucked on a lemon as he took it. It could be at the thought of letting Peter help him, but it could also have been because the diner used waxed wrappers, which meant he couldn't compost them. "No."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes as he sat down on the couch, giving Peter a 'what can you do' and 'I tried, kid' type of shrug. "Fine, be a miserable old man. I think Peter's stubborn enough that he'll stay until you die, and then he'll take being your pallbearer as his community service."

"It's true," Peter told Steve. "I've got time."

"I like him," Sam told Steve.

Steve took a bite of his burger, probably to keep from gnashing his teeth at them like a wild animal. He looked mad enough.

Sam turned to look at Peter. "Listen. Steve has been hung up on this guy for years. You find that guy, I'll sign off on your community service credit."

"I need Captain Rogers' signature," Peter said.

Sam shrugged, finally turning to his own burger. "I know how to forge it." He patted the couch beside him as Steve tried to squawk and, instead, choked on a pickle chip. "Come on, kid. I got you a burger too."

"Okay," Peter answered with a shrug, coming over to sit down. It would probably be easier to pump Sam for information than Steve, anyway, and Peter was curious.

He'd heard that Steve and Peggy had once been married, and while they were amicable when they met in the halls, there was no spark to be reignited. Peggy had her family after her second husband had passed, and she'd made fast friends with a lady named Dottie. Steve, on the other hand, had seemed to have isolated himself. He had friends, but he didn't go out to the social stuff, which a lot of the ladies tittered was 'quite a shame!' as they winked at each other.

But if Steve was hung up on someone, that was interesting. Steve might be stubborn, but he had nothing on Peter. Peggy had said so, and while it made Peter wonder what all Ned had told her about him, it also bolstered him. He'd help Steve. He'd get his community service credit. And maybe he'd get Steve's respect.

#aurumacadicus answers #anon #stony

[applejuicebegood]

All My Love - Platonic!Gaz x Teammate!Reader

Fem!Reader

Summary: Stressing over the cooking for that evening and bad memories, Y/N finds Gaz who talks them through what their feeling. A/N: Wrote this for the very sweet @midnights-song and @kaoyamamegami for their very kind words on my last fic. This one is a sorta fallow up, please enjoy! Masterlist

Cw: Descriptions of absent + alcoholic mother, mentions of PTSD-related flashbacks, elder-child syndrome Word Count: 1960

The smell of cedar smoak and garlic clung to your hands and hair. A dull ache snaked its way up the back of your knees and into your thighs. Wringing your hands with a damp tea-towel you looked over your kitchen, the results of your labour tucked away in the humming oven and boiling on the stove top. Flour and spices swirled together across every vacant surface, oil-stained pots and bowls crowded your skink, and potato skins and egg shells were crowded in a pile across from the filled compost bin you were meaning to take outside to feed to your chickens. You puffed out a long breath, resting your wrists on your hips. You had finally finished all of the cooking for tonight's supper for your teammates. 

Your experience with cooking has been relegated to that of your small family. The distant memories of your aunts and grandmothers crowded in the same kitchen where you stood now, knives and peelers making quick work of the harvested meat and potatoes your farm had cultivated. It was the only thing you recalled as you struggled to discern the cramped handwriting of the recipes left behind by your family. Their jovial laughing and quick gaelic speak now distant memories carved into the cabinets and countertops. Smeared on the vintage china and cast iron skillets hung on the oak walls. If you stayed still and concentrated enough you could remember the feeling of your grandmother's rough palm on your supple cheek and her lips on your forehead. The smell of milk and wheat wafting through your senses. 

You were much younger then. Your fingers easily slipping onto the knife's blade and your wrists burned from boiling pasta water. You needed to use your baby sister's step stool to stand over the cutting board properly. Your mother was too busy passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey slipping from her limp grasp to worry about feeding her children. You were the eldest, therefore it became your job to try and emulate the effortless dance you watched your female relatives perform every holiday season or family reunion. 

Now you were quicker, easily controlling the tools in your scarred, tattooed hands. Your time in the military proved helpful in quickening your reaction speed, allowing you to cut through the squash and potatoes faster than before. You had begun the cooking process that morning, refusing the offered help from your teammates. Insisting that guests shouldn’t be expected to cook and that you could handle it. And you could, although it resulted in the ache in your thighs spreading into your lower back, causing a hushed groan to escape from your throat as you tugged at the roots of your hair. 

You quickly turned at the harsh thumping of boots on the creaking wooden stairs. Drawn out of your spiralling stupor. 

‘Holy.. smells fucking amazing in here lass..’ ‘Language! Johny!’ You say through clenched teeth, motioning to the living room couch where your baby sister was supposed to be sitting next to your captain. The volume of the football game on the TV turned down. Johnny winced in apology, hushing his booming voice to a whisper. ‘Sorry.. Sorry, here you go sit.. I’ll clean’ 

Johnny says after looking you over and taking the towel from your hands. Your team had gotten good at noticing when exhaustion or strain worked its way into each other's bodies. Your hunched shoulders and wide eyes giving away your building stress. ‘Oh Johnny no.. you don’t have too-’ ‘Yea.. yea, Go sit lassie.. After mak’in all this food I’m surprised you're still standing’ Johnny says ushering you to the living room before patting your shoulder and turning to find a starting point in the stack of dishes. 

You sigh. The instinct of obeying your higher ranking sergeant hadn’t seemed to wear off yet. Walking to the couch you expected to have your little sister squeal and jump into your arms. Only to find her little body curled against your captain’s side. Her hands bunched up under her chin, the delicate skin of her eyelids shut. Price’s head rested on the back of the couch with his arms stretched out over the cushions, his mouth slightly agape. You quietly leaned down to brush your sister's forehead, as if in response she snuggled her cheek against Price’s side at your touch, not wanting to be woken up just yet. Price twitched in his sleep, pulling Emi closer against him. You kissed the side of her head, pulling the knitted blanket up over her shoulders and across your captain's lap. The warm prick of relief spread across your skin at the realization that your baby sister had grown comfortable enough to fall asleep in the circle of your captain's embrace. Hoping that she had found someone other than you to admire and emulate.  

You made your way to the back porch, pulling on a leather overcoat to protect your warmth from the bite of the winter air. As you swung the glass door open, the brush of cold against your warm cheeks soothed you, your breath clouding up in front of you. You looked out onto the backyard of your farm, a few metres of blanketed gardening space trailing out to the fenced off cliff side. The clothesline pole used in the warmer months stood to the right, the cable attached to the house swinging in the swirling wind. The fence built to keep your cows and sheep and your sisters from roaming too close to the cliff edge poked out from the dull white snow. Past the drop of land, you could see the storm-grey waves churning and thrashing against each other like fighting children. Stretching further into the distance. You slowed your breathing and shut your eyes, trying to test if you could hear the water slap against the cliff side. When you were little, you would climb through the wire fencing and peer over the cliff's edge, never realizing how if you took only a few more steps death would embrace you like the waves embraced the fistfulls of grass and pebbles you would toss over the edge. Sometimes you wished you could return to that state of not even being afraid of falling from a cliff face. 

‘Hey.. Y/N?’ ‘Oh! Kyle.. shit you scared me!’ 

The jolt of surprise at Gaz’s voice ran up your spine and over your chest. In your daze, you didn’t realize Gaz settled on the porch's couch, a book from the living room shelf open in his lap. The deck held a few mismatched outdoor chairs and a couch, crowded with old throw pillows and spear blankets. Small metal lanterns hung overhead, painted and decorated by your sisters when they were both in primary school. The dwindling candle light gently swayed over Gaz’s smooth brown skin, a warm break from the multitude of grey stretching out before you. 

‘Heh sorry, here.. Sit. You look like you need a break’ Your boots scuffed against the deck floor as you settled yourself by Kyle. You tucked your legs up underneath you with a groan. The pain settling in your legs. You were still fixated on the blurred horizon line stretching beyond the haze of clouds that were beginning to roll in from the town harbour. Gaz’s presence beside you blurring like the apparent ending of the surrounding oceans. ‘Hey.. you alright?’ Gaz asked with the snap of his book shutting. ‘Yeah.. yeah of course.. Just, just thinking about.. Ya know, I mean… I-I just want things to be good for you guys’ You say, looking up at him. Folding your arms over your chest. ‘What.. What do you mean? Y/N.. things have been perfect, I honestly don’t know what else you could do to make this trip more enjoyable’ ‘I know.. I mean- I think, I don’t know Gaz.. I just worry that.. that this isn’t.. Ugh! I don’t even know what i’m saying’ You chuckle, gripping your head as you run a hand through your hair. Glancing at Gaz you notice him scratching the jagged scar on his forearm. 

It was during a mission in your last deployment that an enemy soldier split his skin open with a combat knife. Your stitches were frantic and clumsy, being that you were in the back of a moving helicopter for the evac and you had to watch the consciousness drain out of your friend's face. You noticed how as the cut started to heal Gaz would scratch at the scar absently, something that annoyed you being that it would remind you that the split wouldn't be so gnarled had you been able to keep your shaking hands steady.  ‘You really have no clue how to stop worrying..’

His tone was sad, grey like the ocean waters.

‘Worrying ‘bout you lot is my job.. It’s not something I can just.. Turn off’ You were frustrated, picking at the loose threads of the embroidered pattern lacing around your skirt. ‘I get that. I had that during my first break home, not being able to remember how to.. Ya know.. Be normal. To be a person and not a soldier. God, it would drive Ma mad, how I could only get up at five in the morning and.. Ya know.. The flashbacks’ You watched him as he talked, his rich brown eyes cast down at his hands. ‘There really isn’t a proper way to “be normal”, not after what you've been through, what you’ve seen. But that's not something you have to figure out on your own.. I mean hell, most of us would be dead if you weren't on this team Y/N’ ‘Ha.. I know’ ‘Exactly, what I mean is.. You've got people around you who would do anything for you. And we are probably the only ones who know what it’s like to be stuck in trying to remember who you were before deployment. It’s something we’ve all experienced, so don’t you believe for a second you should go through it by yourself.’ Gaz leaned forward, placing his hand on your knee. You instinctively took his fingers into your own, his hands cold. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, gently nodding your head. Your smile tight, trying to hold back the growing dampness in the corners of your eyes. You squeezed his hand, running your thumb over his knuckle. He squeezed your fingers back, a silent language you shared when words were too daunting to put together. You always found it shocking how this kind of comfort felt like it was being directed at someone else. Like it was a puzzle piece ripped in half, it could still fit in the piece but it appeared foreign. You weren't used to it, and how easily it appeared to flow from Gaz. In his words and in his viable willingness to help you. The unusual sensation of being understood made it hard to express your gratitude for it, Gaz knew this. Which is why you both sat there, in a shared understanding only the both of you as colleagues and friends could have. ‘You smell great by the way’

His blunt comment caused a ripple of laughter to fall from your lips, a tear drifting down the bridge of your nose. ‘You dick..’ You scoffed, leaning your head onto his shoulder, tucking your arm under his. 

‘Do aingeal den sórt sin’

You mumble, directing your attention back to the grey horizon line. ‘What does that mean..?’ Gaz asks, following your gaze outwards. You respond with a simple sigh. The stress and aching dissipated for the moment, something you didn’t want to risk losing with your supposed inability to properly thank Gaz for his tenderness and care.

A/N: ‘Do aingeal den sórt sin’ translates to 'your such an angel' in Irish Gaelic

#mfw2023 #mfw #mfw23 #mfw2024 #mfw2 #mwf3 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #Platonic!Gaz #task force 141 #cod 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #mw2 141 #cod #141 #John Price #john soap mactavish #angst #comfort #fluff #fanfic #ooc #kyle gaz x reader #wweeeeeeeee #wow i really hope this is good #im worried that gaz is totally ooc in this #RRRRAAAAAAA #simon riley

[i-prefer-west-side]

Source

SLOW DANCING IN THE LIVING ROOM Season 7

"It isn't funny, Castle," Kate snaps, kicking her shoes off and throwing her coat over the back of the couch. She continues to strip on her way to the bedroom, and Rick bites back a suggestive comment as he follows.

Having a bucket of well-done compost thrown on her as she tried to serve an arrest warrant had capped off an already bad day, and the last thing she needs is for him to poke at her more, especially after he accidentally snickered when she tripped getting out of the elevator.

She goes straight into the bathroom, dropping her soiled clothes in the tub and stepping into the shower.

He can't make out what she's muttering as she stands under the spray, so he gathers her clothes to put in a garbage bag. He'll work on them later, try to get out at least the worst smell and stains so he doesn't accidentally kill the dry cleaner. He calls in a delivery from Kate's favorite restaurant, and by the time she emerges wearing leggings and an old t-shirt of his, her damp hair curling around her shoulders, he's dishing it up with a very strong drink.

They eat on the couch, her feet tucked under his thigh, and when they're both done, he takes their empty plates and deposits them in the sink before returning to the living room.

"Mrs. Castle," he says, holding out his hand, "may I have this dance?"

Kate narrows her eyes, but he notices a smirk tugging at her lips. Between the food and the scotch, she's in a remarkably better mood. "Really? Dance?" she teases.

He just looks pointedly at his hand, and her smirk turns into a full-fledged grin when she takes it and lets him tug her into his arms. He grabs his phone from the side table and turns on music, switches it to come from the surround sound as she loops her free arm around his back.

He squeezes her hand, brushes a kiss to her temple as he starts to sway them to the gentle sound of their wedding song. "Better?" he murmurs in her ear.

She leans back just far enough so she can look in his eyes. "Perfect," she whispers, lifting her mouth to his.

#castle fanfic #fluffy friday #season 7

[patchworkgargoyle]

🩸 A Steddie Big Bang Fic 🌙

Chapter 6

story by: @patchworkgargoyle || art by: @mcdadarts || playlist to come by: @steves-strapcollection || beta'd by: @tboygareth Rating: E || Words: ~6k || CW: blood drinking, accidental to intentional voyeurism, mutual masturbation (kinda) || Full tag list on ao3! Fic title from Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio We're getting into the spicy shit with Eddie's pov today, folks! Mind the content warnings.

The research crew lasted twenty minutes after Harrington left before they gave up studying. Dustin insisted they’d checked every single musty tome even vaguely related to werewolves already and found nothing, and sitting there going through them all again was a waste of valuable time.

What wasn’t a waste, apparently, was sitting in the Harrington’s living room and watching a recorded version of Grease, commercials and all. Not that it mattered, because the kids all talked over themselves during the whole movie anyway. Though, sometimes, Eleven (and Eddie had yet to have that name explained) stopped to sing along under her breath and it warmed Eddie’s cold, sluggish heart so much that he sang Greased Lightnin’ with her. He hoped that would save him from facing Max’s brutal wit being turned on him for being a metalhead singing to a damn musical.

These children that Steve surrounded himself with–or, from the stories Dustin had been telling, it sounded like they adopted him instead–were insanely brilliant and brave, and the way they talked about Steve now that he wasn’t around wasputting even more cracks in the walls Eddie had put up to keep Steve at a distance. Not that it’d been working well in the first place. Steve himself had smashed a hole through it when he offered Eddie his own blood (something Eddie did his level best to Not Think About), despite only knowing Eddie for a little over a week. But Dustin, Max, and El, all so much more like Eddie than Steve was in school, and yet here they were, describing how he’d stopped some kind of lost swamp creature from ruining a farmer’s field, and probably being killed for it, with nothing but his charm and a big bag of compost. What a big damn hero he was.

So, sue him if he’d been rethinking all of his Doctrine bullshit. Steve wasn’t King of Hawkins High anymore; he was grumpy on the mornings he had an early shift, he indulged Eddie’s long-winded ramblings, owned a terrifying amount of medieval weaponry, and he took care of his people. And Eddie had found himself temporarily counted amongst them. It chafed and made him feel special at the same time.

Sometimes he found himself sneaking around the gym attached to the monster hunter library while Steve–no, Harrington swung around all sorts of dangerous and spiky implements in a training regimen designed to put all his rippling muscles on very athletic display. Eddie told himself he was studying up. In the unlikely event that Harrington did turn on him, of course. It was the smart thing to do.

Eddie had zoned out thinking of said training when he heard a car door close outside. Snapped out of his daydream, Eddie's head twitched towards the noise, and when Max’s did too all the kids were on high alert.

“That’s not Steve and Robin,” Max warned.

Dustin looked at Eddie, wide-eyed, and Eddie felt his hands clench in the arm of the couch. “Maybe it’s one of your moms?” he suggested, but Max shook her head. “Fuck.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer the door, people know me and Steve are like this,” Dustin wrapped his middle finger over his index, “so that shouldn’t give anything away. I’m here all the time!” His nonchalant shrug did nothing to conceal how his voice cracked nervously and Eddie’s confidence sank lower. “Y’know what, maybe they’re just turning around and won’t even knock–”

Three hesitant knocks echoed down the foyer and Dustin winced.

Max glared, unimpressed. “You jinxed it, moron.”

“Shut up!” he hissed. Waving his hands around like a manic conductor, Dustin made everyone sit in silence while he stared at the door. Eddie hoped this would work, just waiting the person out, but his hopes were dashed when they heard slightly more frantic rapping. “Shit. Alright. Time for Plan B. Eddie, prepare for Plan C.”

“What’s Plan C!?” Eddie whispered anxiously. He hid his face in his hands when Dustin copied Eddie’s Dracula pose from earlier. “No, no, absolutely not, Dustin. Wait, hey!”

The kid raced to the door when the knocking came back and Eddie flung himself to the floor to not risk being seen. The sound of the lock was all the warning he got before Dustin opened the door and: “Oh, um. Hi there, you’re Steve’s friend right?” Eddie knew that voice. “Is he here still?”

Eddie popped up over the couch. “Chris?”

She grinned and waved, so Eddie scrambled off the floor and ran to tug her inside, deftly avoiding the sunshine, then wrapped her in a tight hug. Seeing her was more of a relief than he’d thought. Being stuck in Steve’s house without his stuff, his friends, his uncle…

“Oh fuck, I forgot to leave a note for Wayne.”

Chrissy snort-laughed into his shirt. “He called me and I told him you were okay, but I had to make sure.” She stepped back. “You do look okay. Good, actually. Even though, uh,” she trailed off and saw Dustin standing at the closed door wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie.

He narrowed his eyes at Dustin and subtly shook his head, only getting an eye roll in return. “We’ll talk about that later, I think,” Eddie said. “In the meantime, wanna help me babysit?”

After introductions were made–and El made Chrissy giggle when she bluntly but admiringly stated, “You’re very pretty,”–and they’d all settled back in, Eddie found that Chrissy fit right in. Dustin was a little starstruck at first, which Eddie chalked up to the whole freshman nerd kid and senior cheerleader thing, but as soon as she started asking about the summer camp hat he wore he started infodumping like his life depended on it. Chrissy, used to listening to Eddie’s endless speeches, participated like a pro. The way Dustin’s grin kept growing made Eddie think she’d just earned a friend for life. Eventually Max peeled Dustin away from Chrissy with a few well-placed taunts so she and Eddie could catch up.

Chrissy’s life had been going along as normal, though she’d been keeping tabs on Jason just in case, she told Eddie. He wished that hadn’t made her wince with guilty regret, but they’d fought before over her relationship with him so badly once it nearly cost him their friendship, so he kept his opinion to himself. As far as she knew, though, Jason was acting normally.

Eddie had a little more to talk about. Gossiping about Steve with her was a relief; who knew he’d learn so much about the former King in just a few weeks of forced cohabitation?

“You know, he mumbles to himself,” Eddie said, ignoring that he was also mumbling. “He’ll mumble and when I try to talk back he gets in a little snit and says ‘I wasn’t talking to you!’” Chrissy giggled at his very poor impression of Steve’s voice. “What does he expect me to do? He asks himself questions and I answer and he gets all bitchy at me. But I can’t win, because, get this, he’ll bitch at me again when I don’t respond because he’s mumbling in the same damn tone!”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, Chrissy covered her smile with a hand, her knees tucked up to her chest on the couch. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she teased.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie said, eyes narrowed. Her smile grew wider behind her hand, and when she raised an eyebrow he folded his arms. “Don’t get any ideas, Cunningham.”

“No, nope, no ideas.”

He glared at her for a few more seconds before a song came on over the TV that jogged his memory and he pointed at the screen. “And you know what else he does? He sings. Into objects. Like his hairdryer, straight out of the movies like a weirdo!”

A loud snort caught his attention and Eddie’s gaze snapped to Max who was watching Eddie from the corner of her eyes with a smug, knowing expression. He felt like a deer in headlights suddenly, until Max rolled her eyes and went back to talking to El and Dustin.

“Despite all that, looks like you’re doing pretty well here. And you don’t seem, um, thirsty.” She whispered the last word with a curious quirk to her brow, and Eddie shrugged.

“Got it covered, the last time. You don’t need to worry about me so much, Chris, you’ve got your own stuff to handle.”

“Yeah, okay, my best friend being framed for murder isn’t something to worry about,” she said, rolling her eyes before turning sombre. “Eddie, I’m gonna worry until you’re safe. I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

Eddie shifted in his seat. He was always uncomfortable with people worrying over him, but it’s not like she was wrong. This was serious, the worst scrape he’d ever been in and he didn’t even know why it was happening in the first place. Dragging a hand down his face, he heaved a sigh and looked down at the floor. “Sorry, Chris. You’re doing enough just by being here.”

Her mouth pursed unhappily, but before she could say anything more, car doors slammed outside once again and Max perked up.

“Steve’s home.”

Before he could react, the door flung open and Steve stood there, his eyes darting across the group. When he caught sight of Chrissy, he sagged. Robin, right behind him, looked ready to fight until she also saw that everyone was fine.

Eddie tracked Steve as he trudged up the stairs without a word. He was smeared all over with dirt, his face grim and tense, but the walkway above obscured him from view before Eddie could get a better read on him. Robin drifted into the living room and curled up into the one empty chair, almost swallowed by the plush cushions. Dustin got up and switched the TV off.

“What happened?” he asked.

“‘Nother werewolf,” Robin said quietly, and the words spread like a shockwave through all of them.

So, Dustin’s plan had worked. The killer struck again, proving that Eddie was innocent, but also that there was someone with a vendetta against werewolves. Steve must’ve had to bury the body too, and that made Eddie’s stomach drop to his feet. With a glance up, he saw Max looking more stormy than usual. She, Robin, and Steve were all in danger, then, more so than Eddie himself was, in his opinion, and now he really understood how Chrissy felt. How could he help them, stuck in this house, unable to go out in the daytime, waiting for the killer’s next move? His hands started to shake, whether it was with fear or anger he couldn’t tell, but he stuck them under his armpits and squeezed, ignoring the way his jaw tensed and his leg started to bounce.

“I’m so sorry, Robin,” Chrissy whispered, and Robin’s head snapped up like she didn’t even realise Chrissy was there, her eyes going wide.

Robin nodded, her surprise quickly eaten away by dread and she murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Were there any new clues?” Dustin asked with an unusual amount of respect.

“Steve and Hopper didn’t find anything, but Jason Carver showed up and said some things. Steve could tell it better but, uh, he should rest. This was… hard on him.”

“Jason?” Chrissy frowned.

“Yeah, I dunno, something about finding the body first but Steve didn’t really wanna talk about it. I think, maybe, we should talk about it in a day or something.” Robin fidgeted with her rings, looking from Chrissy to upstairs to the floor.

Eddie’s eyes were drawn to the upper floor where he could still faintly hear Steve’s heartbeat, the occasional foot fall, like he was pacing but trying to be quiet about it. His lips pursed into a thin, worried line.

“He didn’t tell you anything?” Dustin asked.

Robin gave him an unexpectedly angry look, so Eddie jumped in. “Dustin, man, you’ve been researching all day, give it a break alright?”

“But–”

“Push it and I’ll tell Jeff to kill off your beloved little warlock next session.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed, but Eddie’s serious tone must’ve gotten through to him because all he did was huff and cross his arms.

“Maybe we should go,” El said, looking upstairs now too.

“I can’t drive, and Eddie can’t until tonight.”

“Shouldn’t leave at all, probably,” Eddie added dourly.

“I can drive you.” Everyone turned to Chrissy. “I’ve got my mom’s station wagon. It’s no trouble.”

Eddie nudged Chrissy with his knee. “You sure you wanna handle these gremlins?” he teased.

“I’ll keep him in line,” Max smirked while Dustin pouted.

Dustin crossed his arms and tilted his head back imperiously. “Eddie said grem-lins, plural, Maxine.”

“You’re pushing it, nerd.”

Robin stood in a sudden flurry of movement. “Okay! Better get all of you gremlins home before Chrissy decides to take back her very generous offer. Come on, shoes on, chop chop!” She clapped her hands in a way that Eddie intrinsically knew came from Steve, and the kids all stood and started towards the door for their shoes.

El, though, stopped beside Eddie. “Can you thank Steve for having us over for us please?” She said it so seriously, so earnestly, that Eddie swore his heart grew two sizes.

“Of course kiddo.” He reached out and ruffled her long hair, and she giggled while leaning away.

When Chrissy got up to leave, Eddie joined her, wrapping her in another hug before she left. “Thanks for taking everyone home.”

She shrugged. “It’s something I can do, at least. And, well, maybe Robin can tell me a little more about what Steve might’ve said about Jason. I’m… I’m really worried, Eddie.”

“I know Chris. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “We’ll figure it out.”

With the brats corralled, Eddie waved them off from the shade of the doorway. Robin gave him a short, awkward wave, a blush over her cheeks when Chrissy put her hand on the back of her seat to back out of the driveway, and Eddie filed that away for another time. Then he shut the door against the sunlight and returned to the now eerily silent house.

It was something he noticed the longer he stayed here. When Steve was away at work, Eddie left to his own devices, all he had to do was read the books he’d brought, maybe snoop around for some others, plunk away at his guitar and fill the silence with the old records that the Harringtons left to collect dust. But even with the music playing, the house seemed to absorb noise, like a museum. And there were barely any signs of life, except for the occasional bit of mess that Steve left around when he ran out of time in the mornings. Everything that Steve left alone: the whole dining room, entire guest rooms, even the hallways seemed to eat noise and repel clutter that showed anyone lived there, even Steve.

Eddie had, admittedly, snuck into Steve’s room once or twice. He’d left the door open, what was a curious, bored vampire expected to do? There, thankfully, was some personality, though the awful plaid wallpaper did its best to drown it out. The messed up bed that Steve couldn’t be bothered to fix up, a few clothes scattered by his hamper, some magazines–sports, mostly, and some gossip mags, to Eddie’s disappointment–piled on his nightstand. He didn’t bother poking around in any drawers, didn’t want to risk moving too much in case Steve caught on and got miffed.

What did Steve even do in this house all alone? What did he do before he had to cohabitate with Eddie, who, he would readily and sometimes proudly admit about himself, was a rather irritating guest at times. Eddie kinda hated thinking about it too hard.

But right now, the silence was disturbed, just barely. Eddie could still hear the pacing above.

He was torn. Something in Eddie wanted to check on him, but Steve hadn’t come down to even speak to the kids. He would’ve heard them leaving. Would he even want the nosy freeloader in his house knocking at his door?

His feet started to move towards the stairs before he even decided. Each stair he climbed, he tried convincing himself that he was just heading to his own room–not his room, the guest room, nothing in this place was his, jesus–but he passed the door that he should have stopped at. Kept going to the end of the hall, and the pacing stopped.

“Hey, uh, Steve?” Eddie knocked on the doorframe, even though it was completely unnecessary. “You alright in there?”

No response. Eddie could hear Steve’s heart, racing too fast to be mistaken for calm. A few seconds passed. A few more.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled. Turning, he was about to walk back to his room when the door opened.

“It’s fine.”

Steve had one hand on the door, the other hanging limp at his side. He was still covered in dirt; smelled like it too, fresh soil and sweat, and something distinctly off and Eddie had to fight wrinkling his nose at. It made Steve look pale, and Eddie felt that was wrong. Steve was built for the sun, for being golden, he shouldn’t look pale.

“You should shower, dude,” Eddie said, trying to a rueful smile, but the humour didn’t land. Steve just shrugged it off.

“I guess. I will.” He turned and wandered back into his room, leaving the door open, and Eddie couldn’t find a reason not to follow. It felt enough like an invitation. Walking in, he tried to make it seem like he was seeing the bedroom for the first time, but Steve scoffed.

“I know you’ve been in here, Eddie, I could smell you in here when I got home once, you don’t have to put on an act.”

Eddie stiffened. “Oh. Uh. Sorry dude.”

“Whatever. I kind of expected it.”

“That’s a lot of trust you’re placing in the resident drug dealer.”

Steve shot him an unimpressed look. “You sell weed, Eddie,” he said flatly. Wobbling his head, Eddie mouthed the words back at Steve silently, mockingly, which finally drew a tired laugh from him. It wasn’t the kind of laughter he could get after verbally tearing Frank Sinatra to shreds while they got high on the living room floor, but it was good enough. The sound didn’t last, though, fading like every other sound in this fucking house, leaving a gaping silence where they both stood awkwardly, a few scant feet between them.

Eddie shifted on his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets then took them out and folded his arms over his chest. Meanwhile, he watched Steve, who couldn’t look up from the carpet. “You probably don’t want me lingering around in your domicile, so I’ll just–”

“Are you thirsty?”

Now that, that rang out through the room. “What?”

“You spent all day around the kids, and you haven’t fed since, uh, since last time when everyone was around.” Steve finally looked up from the carpet, something burning in his eyes.

“Nah, I’m fine, pretty good actually,” Eddie stumbled out.

“You said you fed from Chrissy every few days though.”

Truth was, Eddie was hungry. It was sort of an ever-present thing, though easy to manage once he’d learned how to sate it in a way that actually satisfied him. And yeah, it had been a few days since he’d bitten Steve’s wrist, but the way Steve acted around him the next day–flighty and awkward, not sticking around in the same room too long–made Eddie less than inclined to ask for more.

“I can deal, Harrington, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Steve started walking closer. There was a determination, a heat, in his gaze that made Eddie feel a little warm and jumpy, and he started backing up. “You should be in peak condition if something happens. And I–”

Steve reached out behind Eddie and closed the door, Eddie having to back up against it, trapping them both in the horribly plaid room that Eddie couldn’t even see, because Steve was right there, in his space, so close Eddie could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Steve’s arm was still outstretched, hand pressed against the door by Eddie’s head.

“I want you to.”

Heat flashed under Eddie’s skin, his sluggish heart beating faster. “What the fuck do you mean, man?”

“I mean.” Steve ran a head through his hair, messing it up worse, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “It makes me feel good–better. The bite. And, you gotta drink, so it’s like. Win-win or whatever.”

“Win-win?” Eddie said, high and nervy, “The hell? How does it make you feel good?”

“Just, please?”

His voice sent a lance of desire and hunger through Eddie’s spine. Steve’s face looked haggard, dirt caked into every worryline, but something burned in his eyes, something needy, and he was so fucking close they were sharing breath. Eddie could see the blood coursing through his neck, the artery so close to the skin, and he must’ve stared long enough, hesitated enough, that it spurred Steve on. He deliberately pulled down the collar of his shirt and tilted his head to the side, baring his long, freckled neck to Eddie.

That desperate, unnatural hunger that had haunted Eddie since he woke up on a cold forest floor in Chrissy’s arms, ever-present and voracious, grew like arousal in Eddie’s gut. Saliva pooled under his tongue and, unbidden, his teeth began to elongate as his gaze locked onto that pulsing rush tantalisingly close to his face. The longer he looked, the faster Steve’s heart raced, the more tempting he was, the warm scent of his heightened emotions wafting into the air like wine and pulling Eddie closer.

Just a taste, he promised himself. 

Eddie let one of his hands wrap around the back of Steve’s neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, while he grabbed the hand Steve was using to hold the shirt down, pulling it further out of the way. One last glance at Steve’s face, and Eddie saw his eyes had gone heavy-lidded, his mouth dropping open just slightly when Steve caught sight of Eddie’s fangs. Cocking one eyebrow, he tilted his head further, into Eddie’s waiting palm, trusting he’d be held, and Eddie couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

He surged forward, and bit into Steve’s neck. The first gush of rich, metallic blood made Eddie groan and Steve gasp. Instinct made Eddie bite harder, deeper, his teeth sinking without resistance into flesh and muscle.  Eddie’s fingers clenched where they held Steve, pressing him flush against his own body. Steve didn’t even flinch, seeming to arch into the touch, panting. His skin flushed; Eddie could feel the flood of warmth down Steve’s neck from his face as it bloomed against Eddie’s cheek.

Feeling bold and ravenous, Eddie withdrew from Steve’s neck to manhandle him against the door instead, slamming him against it with a bang and pressing against the long line of his body before licking up the rivulets dripping from the punctures. The soft oh he drew from Steve felt as intoxicating as his blood. Clinging to Steve like he was, Eddie didn’t feel his hands move until Steve’s fingers dug into his side, keeping Eddie close.

Steve’s free hand clutched Eddie’s, the one resting on the unmarred side of his neck, twining their fingers together and squeezing, and Eddie’s breath hitched as he squeezed back. He laved the flat of his tongue over the wounds before pressing his lips around them in an open-mouthed kiss and sucked, drawing a fresh flood to the surface. The taste was fucking addictive. Something lurked in Steve’s blood that made the most base, monstrous parts of Eddie sing and snarl with greed, something heated and needy.

It clicked, when Steve’s hand roved down. Grabbed Eddie’s ass though his jeans to hold him still while Steve rocked his hips up, his hard dick brushing against Eddie’s own and making them both moan. And oh shit, Eddie was so hard it was painful.

That taste was desire, hormone-spiked blood, more potent than any drug or liquor Eddie’s ever had. The instant he placed it, he knew he wanted more. More blood, more of Steve. He met the next roll of hips with a reedy whimper, muffled against Steve’s neck as he still drank deeply of that heady taste, let Steve’s hand guide him this time, enjoying the thrill of being led. Until.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve groaned, low but loud in Eddie’s ear, and reality crashed down around him.

Eddie shoved himself off of Steve, ripping himself out of his grasp and pressing the back of his hand to his blood-stained mouth. Wide, panicked eyes met Steve’s, still heavy-lidded and dark but growing confused. God, what a vision he was as he leaned against the door, gasping for breath and hard in his jeans, flushed deliciously red despite being drank from like a fucking juice box. It was… it was terrifying. Fear sparked and caught in Eddie’s chest. What the fuck was he thinking!?

Brows furrowed, Steve stepped forward. “Eddie? What is it?”

“Shit.”

Eddie bolted. Dodged past Steve, whipped the door open and ran to the guest room as fast as his unnatural speed let him. He slammed the door behind himself and braced against it, scared that Steve would try to bust it down as soon as he came to his senses. And he would. There was no fucking way Eddie could get away with that.

He knew his bite did something. Chrissy had tried to do research for him, but couldn’t find much without Jason catching on, but she’d told him the bite makes prey less likely to fight back. But she’d only ever relaxed, like getting high, not–not like Steve trying to rub one out on him. Not like moaning Eddie’s name while they were so close together Eddie could still feel how it rumbled in his own chest.

Anxiously, Eddie licked his lips and only tasted Steve, wincing at how that made his cock throb against his zipper. “Shit,” he whispered shakily. A manic laugh threatened to bubble up but he swallowed it back.

That was so stupid. All of it. He should’ve realised as soon as Steve asked to be bitten again that something wasn’t normal about this and put a stop to it. Could’ve called Chrissy; she was coming by tomorrow anyway. Now he had to worry about Steve kicking him out and forcing him to walk home with the murderer still at large. The one who fucking framed him, for a reason none of them have discovered yet. He let his head fall back against the door with a hollow thud, and waited.

Minutes passed, then hours. The sun began to set, and Eddie found himself anxiously pacing around the room, packing his duffel bag then unpacking it, his clothes strewn out of it like a racoon had rifled through them all and found his wardrobe lacking. Yet through his own chaos, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from keeping an ear out for Steve.

He hadn’t left his room, not once. Sometimes he paced, and Eddie caught the occasional frustrated huff. When Steve’s habit of talking to himself kicked in, Eddie resolutely ignored it–meaning, of course, that he listened anyway but felt deeply guilty about it. But nothing he heard made any logical sense. “What did I do?” spat as a frustrated whisper was the most baffling, but Eddie refused to contemplate that it might mean anything other than Steve wondering how he’d gotten suckered into bumping clothed uglies with The Freak.

So Eddie paced and unpacked and re-packed and stewed over the countless stupid life choices he’d made to bring him to this moment until the sun was well beyond the horizon and his hair was a frizzy mess with how often he’d been digging his fingers into it. The carpet, shockingly, didn’t show a single dent with all the trudging around he’d done.

Simultaneously wiped out and still wound up, Eddie flopped onto the bed with an explosive sigh and slapped his palms over his face, grunting loudly. If Steve was debating whether he would kick Eddie out or not, he’d rather Steve get on with it and put him out of his misery before the sun came up. He didn’t want to burn to a crisp before he got to see Wayne again.

“Fuck it,” came another irritated whisper from Steve’s room. Eddie braced himself for stomping down the hall, for Steve ripping the door open, furious, demanding that Eddie leave. Instead, he heard bed springs squeak. It took little effort for him to listen closer, frowning in confusion.

Then, Eddie heard the quiet zip of jeans being undone, and shuffling. A relieved sigh.

What?

Was Steve doing what Eddie thought he was doing? There was no way. No fucking way. Sure, Eddie had been staving off the raging hormones he’d drank straight from Steve’s veins all night with little success, hoping he’d burn through them with his pacing and ignoring how he’d been half-hard for most of it. Steve had to have crashed from the high by now.

And yet. There was a hitched breath from behind the two doors separating them. Eddie swallowed, and dragged his hands down his face, letting them flop to his sides. This might be Steve’s home, but did he really have to do this now?

Eddie didn’t even want to admit what had happened, not that it helped. With Steve apparently jerking it just down the hall, though, the images rose unbidden behind Eddie’s scrunched eyelids anyway. How the blood flowed slowly over the tendon in Steve’s neck to pool in the divot between his collarbones, the dark desire in his blown-out pupils. The way Steve’s fingers dug into the meat of Eddie’s ass to pull him where Steve wanted, right against his cock.

The sound of Eddie’s name in Steve’s mouth as his lips brushed Eddie’s ear.

He swore soundlessly. Wriggling a little and hissing at the growing tightness in his pants, Eddie sent up prayers to whatever deity was listening to make him Not Horny. No thoughts of old people or relatives or complex dungeon traps could take his mind, or his hearing, off of Steve masturbating quietly just a few feet away. Didn’t he realise that Eddie could hear him? Steve wasn’t the only one with super hearing. It was rude, and terrible hosting behaviour, and–

Steve moaned softly, though it cut off like he knew he might be heard–too fucking late for that–and Eddie wanted to scream in frustration so badly he clamped his hand over his mouth. His dick throbbed, though, at the new sounds echoing his way. Wet, slick sounds.

Fuck. Swallowing down a wave of guilt, Eddie let his hand trail over the bedspread, along his hip, and cupped his dick through his jeans with a shuddery sigh. He bit his lips together to make sure no noises escaped as he squeezed himself. It’d been too long. Out of respect to his werewolf host, he’d hadn’t rubbed one out the whole time he’d been at Steve’s. Steve, apparently, had no such reservations. So…

So why not? Why the hell not. Eddie undid his fly and quietly as he could slipped his cock out, already hard, the tip flushed red. He couldn’t help remembering that he had Steve’s blood in his body now. How he’d tasted. Breathing heavily, Eddie stroked himself, thinking of the way Steve’s plush lips parted, the fire in his eyes as he begged Eddie to bite him… how big his cock felt, though it was trapped in his jeans.

The familiar weight of his own cock twitched in his hand, a spurt of precome dripping down, slicking the way. He could hear how Steve’s heart rate picked up now that he’d given up trying not to listen; now that it, too, had become familiar.

Steve made another sound. A groan, deep in his chest. Eddie’s mouth dropped open with a harsh sigh. He was so fucking turned on. The taboo of listening to Steve get off, jacking off to it, praying Steve couldn’t hear him too, made that frisson under his skin rise and burn so fast Eddie started to feel breathless, wound tight.

He stroked himself faster, hips canting up into his grip, desperate to chase the feeling as he imagined how Steve looked sprawled on his bed with his massive hand wrapped around his cock. Eddie couldn’t help wondering what it’d feel like to have Steve’s hand replace his own and that image made him clamp his mouth shut around a quiet whimper. 

Eddie heard Steve swear again, his voice going a little higher, and Eddie found himself nodding, like the other man could see him. He wanted to be seen. Wanted Steve to rush in, see him furiously pumping his dick and know exactly what got him here. Maybe he’d crowd Eddie against the bed and start to take him apart with his long fingers, grind their cocks together, fuck his way inside as they kissed all heated and dirty and chant Eddie’s name–

Steve moaned, then, quiet enough that Eddie almost missed what he said.

“Eddie.”

Shock forced a desperate whine out of Eddie’s throat before he choked it off with a gasp. Oh shit. Oh shit. He froze, could tell Steve had too. Steve heard him. He knew. He felt his heart in his throat, thundering away.

Until he heard it again. A tentative, “Eddie?” from down the hall. Confirming he’d been caught. Why didn’t Steve sound pissed?

There was the distinct click of a cap being opened. Still frozen, Eddie couldn’t believe his ears when he heard Steve start up again, jerking himself off slower now, the sounds slicker, wetter. He… he knew Eddie was listening, could easily guess why Eddie had fucking whined like that, and he was still…

God. Fuck. Oh fuck that was hot. And terrifying. How the hell was this even happening!?

Steve keened, loudly, and Eddie cursed as his hips bucked helplessly into the hand still wrapped around his aching cock. This was insane, absolutely nuts; Eddie had never even thought of something like this despite his expansive and wildly horny imagination. But he followed suit and started fucking into his fist, fast and filthy, past the point of caring that Steve could hear the bed creaking slightly with his movements.

And then Steve did it again. “Fuck, Eddie,” he moaned. Deliberately. Eddie couldn’t hold back the needy cry that rose from his throat, muffled as he bit his lip against the growing pleasure sparking along his nerves. He was gonna come, quickly, felt it barreling closer like a freight train. Steve wasn’t holding back his sounds anymore either, every gasp and groan unconcealed, stroking his cock without any fucking shame.

Eddie was shaking, panting hard, losing his rhythm. Thoughtlessly he started to beg, “Please, please please please.”

“Shit, yeah, do it, c’mon Eddie,” Steve urged, “gonna come too, oh shit!”

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes. Every muscle in Eddie’s body seized as he came, whining so fucking loud as he spilled over his fingers, cum splattering his shirt and soaking in warm and sticky, cock pulsing hard when he heard Steve cry out, a satisfied, guttural thing. Gasping for breath, Eddie went limp on the bed, his mind empty of all thought except for the way Steve moaned his name, how he sounded when he came.

There was no more movement from Steve’s room. Eddie could hear him in there, his breathing evening out along with his heartbeat, but he didn’t get up.

Was he waiting for Eddie? There was no way he’d go over there himself. He was still processing the everything that just happened. What if Steve had still been affected by the bite, and now that he’d gotten it out of his system he regretted literally jacking off with Eddie? More or less.

Eddie’s anxieties swirled through his mind until morning. Steve didn’t leave his room once.

#bee if you see this i'm so sorry i forgot to credit you until now i am a whole ass #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #vamp!eddie #werewolf steve harrington #stranger things #steddiebang #steddiebang23 #steddie big bang #steddie big bang 2023 #hideous thing sbb #sav scrawls stuff

[14dyh]

17 from the new list? hange getting rejected

Get Over Her | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x gn!reader Summary: You helped Hange get over their rejection. Word count: 1.0k A/N: sorry anon i can't write about y/n themself rejecting hange so this happened :"")

It would have been impossible for you to miss it when Hange acts strangely– even for themselves. Being roommates for over a year, you've known how they take their coffee differently in the morning, never miss checking on Science Daily to tell you something fascinating, or how their footsteps sound when they're trying not to wake you up at night. 

You know Hange. 

Their pain wouldn't pass over your eyes and the way they ruminate in an excruciating manner that you're starting to feel the headache for them. It began with the rejection that happened weeks ago. Hange just came home, throwing over the flowers they failed to give in an empty bin and refused to say anything other than they got rejected, that's all, just kinda unfortunate this time, right? You knew better and recognized right away how the rejection slowly deteriorates them from the inside, even if they're trying to laugh it off by dousing those flowers with an organic-based chemical that speeds up the composting process (as Hange happily announced to you). At some point, you had to try and rip them away from that cruel cycle of never admitting their pain. Sometimes you would spend hours in the arcade, pull them along the quiet garden on the riverside to watch ducks, or watch plays and movies until you both pass out on the couch. From those moments, you managed to glimpse the sparkle in their eyes again which they lost a day later after seeing her. 

You want to shake Hange into reality and yell at them to get over her. But how can you manage to do such a thing when she looks like everything Hange had hoped for? 

She would pass by the hallway and everyone's attention would be stirred. Her grace and fragrance, or how she managed to stand out like a fascinating flower among a field of others. She was what Hange hoped to be the perfect opposite of their ideal paradox. But now they couldn't stand or act like themself whenever in the same room as her or not until they decided to space out and let their ideas absorb them. There were times that they would remain silent in school, but you knew that the sound of their thoughts was getting louder and louder to bear.

You were both in your dorm, studying in the dead of the night when they asked, "Hey Y/N? Do I sound annoying?" And it sounded more like a question out of curiosity than self-deprecation. 

"Well, not really..." you responded. 

"Not really? What does that mean?"

"I mean, why would you ask me? If ever you're annoying, I'll be the first one to get used to it so don't think I would mind that anymore,” you explained, sitting up from your bed as you tried to meet their eyes. Hange’s gaze remained far away. 

"So maybe I do sound annoying..." they pondered loudly before turning to you and continuing. "Was it my voice?"

Hange continued on and on, asking and piecing together information on that topic.

And you were getting tired and hurt from the inside as they thought that maybe their voice was annoying, or their humor, or their hobbies. You nudged their swivel chair with your foot. 

"Hey, stop that now. Why don't we go out? Maybe a midnight stroll or a snack. Anything to stop you from that nonsense."

You pulled them out of those thoughts again, taking the streets at midnight to walk around and get something to eat. To talk about anything else other than their rejection because you know it would make them break. The night faded into a deep dark blue and it was 2 AM. You forgot how you both ended up on the couch, drinking away your thoughts as Hange laid their head on your shoulder. They rambled on about funny anecdotes and fascinating theories that would concern anyone, and then they quieted for a moment before saying, "You know... I grew the flowers I wanted to give to her."

Hange only smiled before finally turning to you, "Heh, I like the sound of that."

They said in a quiet voice as though raising it any higher would cause them to break down. 

Then they chuckled before saying, "Those flowers were a cross-hybrid. And when I showed her, she said it looked like a weird sack of balls and I said noooo, it wasn't quite like that. It's supposed to symbolize how the sun dips on the fabric of space..."

They went on drunkenly, arms around you now as they leaned closer as if any attempt they would make to move away would result in great discomfort.

"And I thought it was a cute metaphor to relate her to the sun but... she only laughed at me. Not in a way you would laugh in amusement with my ideas. Somehow, it sounded mocking."

And that hurt, Hange's voice broke, prompting the sobs that came after. 

You held them close, a portion of your heart aching as someone made them feel ashamed of all the things you love about them. What angered you the most was that the girl never rejected them outright, maybe to keep Hange in a way to use them or entertain herself. You don't deserve any of that, your mind protested. You thought of Hange as everything wonderful that happened in this world, as all the poetry and love in your heart screamed. 

"I made a mistake... And I'm correcting that..." they muttered on your shoulder, on the verge of falling asleep. They held you tighter, their tears dripping down your shirt before they relaxed on your body. For a moment, you tried to make sense of their words, maybe they regretted falling for that girl after all and realized how much they didn’t deserve such treatment. 

As they drifted to slumber, still clung to you, your eyes found the small plant growing on Hange’s table that reminded you of the nebula you always talk about with them.

#hange zoë #hange zoe #hanji zoë #hanji #hanji zoe #hange snk #hange x y/n #hange x reader #hange x you #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x you #hange zoe x y/n #hange aot #aot x you #hanji zoe x reader #hanji x reader #hanji x you #hanji x y/n #aot hanji #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #snk #14dyh-writes

[itskobold]

#poll #cmwge

[ellieisaflower]

Bad week ´ˎ˗

Main masterlist

୨୧ ┊Pairing: mamma!Wanda x gn!little!reader

୨୧ ┊Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Reader

୨୧ ┊Genre: fluff, comfort, Age regression (NOT KINK!!)

୨୧ ┊Summery: After a long week without Wanda being there because she was on a mission, reader comes home one day and is at their breaking point, thankfully Wanda was finally home to take care of and comfort her baby.

୨୧ ┊Warnings: mentions of yelling, little bit of cursing, crying, kinda angsty, Wanda calls reader petal

୨୧ ┊Word count: 652

3rd person pov <333

This week had already been worse than any bad days that you've had in ages. Everything seemed much harder and stressing to do, even simple stuff like brushing your teeth or putting on your pajamas.

Work had also been hell, because everyone seemed to be a lot meaner to you. For some reason they all yelled and you, and you didn't even know why.

The worst part is that mamma is out of state in Germany on mission. She's been away for nearly a week, and you have no idea when she was gonna be back.

It was hard to try and keep yourself calm and collected when mamma is away. There was no one there to help you when you cry or help you make food when you can't. There was no one around to snuggle you when you felt overwhelmed. It hurt so bad.

Today though, today was your breaking point. Today had been the worse day at work that you have ever had. People were being extremely rude, rider than anyone should even be to someone. They were yelling at you, screaming even, and when you got something wrong, they'd yell even more.

The hardest part was to keep your composter and not break down in the middle of it all. You had to keep all the feeling locked away until you got home.

As soon as you opened the door to you and Wanda's shared apartment, you threw your bags and stuff on the floor, and slammed the door close.

But you froze all of a sudden when something didn't seem right. There was a light on in the kitchen and it smelled like flowers. Before you could go and investigate it though, Wanda walked out of the kitchen with a concerned face.

She took one look at you and her face fell even deeper into concern. "Oh petal..." She whispered, opening her arms and bending down a bit, allowing you to run over to her and sneak into her embrace. 

"Ma-mma. . ." You whispered, voice breaking and a loud sob leaving you. "Sh, sh, sh. It's alright petal. Mamma's right here, mammas not going anywhere. I'm right here petal..." Her voice spoke melodies as rubbed your back with one hand, the other making it's way to under your legs.

"How about we go get you see juice and Mac 'n cheese? Sound good?" She asked, beginning to pick you up and carry you to the kitchen when you gave a small nod. 

She placed you on the counter, and stood Infront for you. "What happened while I was gone petal?" Wanda asked, picking up your cheeks in her palms and using her thumbs to wipe away your tears.

"Dey were mean to me, an called me mean names..." You whispered, sniffling slightly. "I'm so, so sorry petal. I can't imagine what that was like." she whispered back ,kissing you on the forehead before walking away for a moment.

When she came back, she was holding a bowl of Mac 'n cheese and a sippy cup. "C'mon, let's go sit on the couch and eat dinner and watch your favorite cartoons." She said, handing you your sippy. "Buh, wha abou da no eatin In da living woom wule?" you asked, looking at her in confusion. She put her finger on her chin and looked up, pretending to think, before looking back down at you.

"I'll make an exception just for today, alright, petal?" With that, she picked you up from the counted and carried you to the living room, where the TV was on your favorite channel.

She sat down on the couch with you still in her lap and she pled the blanket over the two of you before handing you your bowl of Mac 'n cheese.

The two of you sat on the couch for the rest of the evening watching your favorite show and cuddling.

Tags ´ˎ˗

#mommy wanda #mommy wanda x little reader #wanda x little reader #wanda mcu #wanda imagine #wanda my beloved #wanda x y/n #wanda x gn!reader #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #marvel mcu #marvel #marvel x little reader #little reader #agere #the avengers #wanda x male reader #wanda x fem!reader

[wooahaes]

falling (in love) with you

pairing: non-idol!jeongin x gn!reader

prompt: leaves

word count: 0.6k~

warnings: jeongin + reader falling in leaves, no injuries tho.

daisy’s notes: title pulled from can’t stop bc god..... i lov her. .......

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me!”

Jeongin pouted from his place in his front yard, leaning against the rake his mom had pushed into his hands that morning. The leaves were falling and he was the best candidate to do this bit of yard-work. The two of you had come to visit his family for a few days, and you’d offered to keep him company while he worked.

Except you meant that in the way of you sitting on his front steps and watching him work. Not in the sense that you’d help him bag up leaves for composting, or you’d maybe help him rake up leaves from half the yard and he’d handle the other half. You just decided to look cute and smile at him, his jacket draped over your lap because he was starting to sweat from the physical exertion.

“I said I’d supervise,” you said. “Not that I’d help.”

Jeongin pouted at you even more. “We’d be inside faster if you helped,” he said, going back to pulling the leaves into a pile.

You could hear him start to mumble something about how his little brother could do this. He’d old enough. He could rake leaves instead--why was he stuck with this work? His mom was probably making lunch for the all of you right now, he could have helped with that. You just suppressed a smile at your boyfriend’s not-very-quiet pouting.

“You’d probably get done faster if you stopped sulking,” you teased.

Jeongin turned to you, opening his mouth to say something as he started to make his way toward you. His foot slipped out from underneath him due to the slightly damp leaves underneath him, and you watched him fall into the pile he’d been accumulating. Immediately, you were on your feet and rushing over to him.

All you managed to say was a worried “Jeongin?!” before you slipped, landing into the leaves beside him on one stroke of good luck.

He turned his face to yours, brows furrowed and lips pressed together as he quickly sat up to look you over. You’d fallen pretty much face-first into the ground, too--turning your face by the only other good luck you had.

“Are you okay?” He said. “You didn’t have to come over here.” Jeongin turned your face, looking you over for any telltale signs of injury. No gashes or bruises forming so far...

“I’m fine,” you pulled his hands back. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. And then you watched him crack up a moment later, a smile spreading across his face. The two of you were sitting in his front yard, his rake discarded nearby, and you were both covered in leaves. He reached up, plucking one off of your jacket before tossing it away--and something about that made him laugh. His laugh was infectious and you found yourself laughing, too. 

“I love you,” he said after he quelled his giggles, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Even though the two of you had to stay out longer to redo all the word Jeongin had done (and that time you had helped him for part of the yard, just to get back into the warmth of his family’s home sooner), you were happy to spend the extra time with Jeongin. He’d collapse onto the couch with you soon enough, head drooping onto your shoulder as he promised you he’d eat lunch with you after a few minutes.

(And his mom interrupted that moment, saying that he could rest after he ate lunch to replenish his energy. At least he knew he was being looked after, both with you and his family around.)

general taglist: @twancingyunhao​

#wooahaes.fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #stray kids imagine #skz fics #stray kids fics #stray kids fluff #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #jeongin fluff #i.n fluff #i.n x reader #i.n x you #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin x you

[slasher-male-wife]

hii, im requesting again-maybe billy lenz, brahms heelshire, michael myers (og and rob zombie if possible?) with some headcanons for them getting into an argument with a male reader saying some mean things (or with michael kinda scaring the reader or cornering them), ignoring them for a few days, then the make up? either with direct apologies or coming back to the reader and little actions showing that their sorry? hurt/comfort kinda with some tooth rotting fluff at the end. thank you and have a wonderful day/night!

Of course I can. It's been so long since I've written for Brahms and I'm on a bit of a Michael kick so I'll happily do this for you. I also wrote for the Michaels first because Michael brain rot.

Slashers apologizing after a fight

Includes: (Og and RZ) Michael Myers, Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire

Warnings: Slashers being a bit mean, mentions of death, strong language, use of fag in Billy's section

Og Michael Myers

A few days ago you thought it would be a bit funny to try and scare Michael. You bought a mask and waited in the dark for him to get home. When he finally got there you jumped out at him which caused him to swing his knife at you and ended up cutting above your upper lip. Nothing majorly serious but it scared you quite bad. You couldn't tell if Michael felt sorry. He just stood there and tilted his head while you yell that you were just trying to mess around.

You haven't seen him since. You're trying to keep your mind off of it by carving a pumpkin. You sigh and you finish cutting the mouth. You put the last pieces of the discarted pumpkin rind in a bowl along with the guts and you leave your kitchen. You go out to your backyard and throw them in your compost bin. You take a good look at the woods behind your house. All the leaves are yellow and orange and a slight wind is shaking the branches. You think of Michael and how he's probably going to be gone for longer than he has before.

You go back inside and set the bowl down when you notice that your favorite candy bar is sitting halfway in the pumpkins mouth. You walk over and pick it up. You know that it has to be Michael. You walk to your living room and you find him sitting on your couch. He looks over to you and tilts his head again. You know this is as close of an apology as you're going to get from Michael.

"Thank you Michael. I forgive you." You say sitting down next to him. You open the candy bar and turn on the tv, resting your head on his shoulder.

RZ Michael Myers

Michael had gotten pretty badly hurt. A nasty cut on his leg that you had to clean and wrap. The entire time you were scolding him for being so careless about his safety. At one point he harshly grabbed you wrist. He got up and left before he hurt you any further. There's a bruise left behind from where he grabbed you. You know he never meant to hurt you. You're glad he knew when to leave so he didn't hurt you any further.

You're outside hanging up laundry. Michael has been gone for the last three days and you assume he'll be gone for a few more. You finish hanging up the clothes and turn to go back inside when you spot Michael waiting by the back door for you. You walk over and open the door.

"Welcome back Michael," You say plainly. You're not going to try and hold this against Michael because you know he's not going to apologize. The best thing you can do it just try to move on with life and forget it ever happened. You set your basket in the laundry room and come back to Michael in the kitchen. He's got his hand in his pocket. You raise a brow, "What do you have Michael?" You ask. You're pretty sure it can't be something to hurt you, but he's still Michael after all.

He pulls out a necklace and holds it out to you. You stare at it for a moment before you realize he's giving you a gift. You take it. It's a old looking silver, heart shaped locket. You flick it open and only find resedue from an old picture that was glued in it before. You look back up at Michael.

"This is for me?" You ask. He nods, "Thank you Michael. That's very sweet." You know this is his way of saying I'm sorry. Stealing something from a victim and giving it back to you. But in the end it's still something.

Billy Lenz

You made it a rule with Billy to make sure that if someone else was home and he wanted to see you he had to knock on the front door like everyone else. Well one day he must have forgot because you walk into the kitchen to find one of your fraternity brothers talking with Billy. Your mate asked how he got in here so you had to make up an excuse about how you left the back door unlocked for him you were coming down to meet him.

You had a long talk with him about being more careful in the house and not being so reckless. Billy got upset at this and started to talk about how he can't help it sometimes and he just has to see you. You two go back and forth for a good ten minutes before Billy says "Billy thinks you're being a stuck up fag right now." After that you told him to leave and for the past two days he's stayed in the attic. You've been crying a lot. His choice of words really cutting deep.

It's a Friday night and the other boys are gone at a football game or out at some parties going on. You're alone in the living room reading a book when the phone rings. You pick it up, "Hello?"

"It's Billy," he says, "Billy's sorry about what he said. Can he come see pretty boy?" He asks. You think for a moment.

"Yes you can come see me Billy. I'm in the living room." You hang up the phone and wait for him to come down the stairs. When you finally see him Billy quickly rushes over to you and basically tackles you into the couch.

"Billy's very sorry pretty boy," He says into your shoulder, "Can pretty boy forgive Billy?"

"Of course I can honey. Just don't talk to me like that again ok?"

"Ok." He replies. You two lay on the couch together for a good half hour while Billy recounts all he did those past two days without you. You know he's not always lucid when he's with you. Hearing him now you know he must have been pretty bad when he called you that. But he's apologized and now you can go back to loving your man.

Brahms Heelshire

A few days ago both you and Brahms were feeling horrible. He was complaining about everything and you've had enough. You loudly told him to just shut up. You expected him to say something rude right back to you and he did. The majority of his little rant was about how ungrateful you are and how you shouldn't talk to him like that. You yelled back at him about how you have to do everything around the house and how he can't do anything on his own. After a bit of this back and forth you began to cry. He told you to be a man and you told him that he's the one who should fucking grow up.

That was the last straw for him. He broke the glass he was holding with the force of his grip and left to go back into the walls. You were left crying and sweeping up glass on the kitchen floor. You're now in the study, looking over something to read. You feel a pair of eyes watching you. You turn around and find Brahms standing in the doorway. You both look at each other for a moment before he speaks.

"I'm sorry for yelling Y/n." He says in his "real" voice.

"Thank you Brahms. I hope you've learned your lesson." You turn back around and continue looking over the books. Brahms walks over to you and wraps his arms around you from behind.

"I really am sorry." He says again.

"I know that Brahms. Thank you for apologizing. I shouldn't have yelled either," There's another moment of silence between the two of you, "How about we read something together ok?" He nods.

"I'd very much like that."

#michael myers #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #rz myers x reader #billy lenz #billy lenz x you #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x y/n #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms my beloved #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[baddingtonbitch]

just saw an ad for eharmony where a guy got his gf to pop a massive zit on his back in front of the tv i can't do this anymore like am i crazy for wanting at the very least a temporary comb your hair and check your breath level of romantic formality like even just for fun? like real intimacy isn't always pretty but i prefer those deeper levels to be earned by changing seasons and the full bloom and decay of superficial fantasy. a waning honeymoon phase is great compost for true, imperfect romance. i don't want to fill out a fucking survey like a cheat code just to skip right past mystery and chance and discovery to get to unbuttoned, pally comfort with someone but it just feels like the bar keeps getting lower and convenience is god and wanting anything more than parallel subsistence, couch dates and ubereats is seen as some deluded stuck up pipedream. like if everything just keeps shrinking faster and faster into a world of his and hers disney+ profiles and shitting with the door open as a love language i'm gonna hoard every birthday, valentines day and anniversary target gift card and find out how many smart home toasters it will take to kill myself and take down the power grid at the same time

#p

[thehistoriangirl]

Hello! If you take requests then could you perhaps write Victor x Reader but the reader is like exhausted from work and Victor is too so they're kind of exhausted together? <:D

Love your writing btw!

Have a nice day/night :3

(Also sorry for asking anonymously, im a coward-)

Hi Anon! I'm sorry this one took so long ;-; and hey, don't worry about it ^^ I also get shy and send anon inbox more often than not :3 it's perfectly normal <33

I hope you like it, and that you also have a nice week! :D

Also, I finished editing this one and it ocurred to me one fic where they're going on a date for their anniversary, but at the end of the day they're too tired to go, so they spend the night at home. I'll write it somewhere in the future; that's probably more akin to what you were requesting (?) sorry about that 🤡🤡

In Those Slow Nights

Viktor x gn!Reader------1K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship| Domestic Fluff|

Taglist: @local-mr-frog

It was a scorching spring night, one of the first ones that pushed the cold of the winter away. Viktor didn't like them—just as he didn't like freezing winter journeys where it made his bones ache. Thing was, while cold coerced him into moving and making things despite the layers of clothes you insisted to cocoon him with, hot days dragged him into a still state where the only pleasing thing Viktor wished to do was to nap with the fan ceiling on, windows wide open.  

But he also wished to spend a romantic night with you. It had been so long since Viktor could cook you something more elaborate, something from his natal country, for example, a recipe of his mother or his grandmother. Even if you two used to snuggle on the couch reading in each other's arms, in spring and summer it wasn't that easy to do.

He couldn’t even remember the last time you two go out on a date, to wherever; it had never been important if you were in a fancy restaurant overlooking the city or a cozy café with scented candles lit at each table, even walking around the boulevards and sitting in the benches of the nearby parks and stargazing was enough.

The important thing was having you next to him, your hand in his.

Perhaps we can arrange something, he thought, waiting for the elevator to come to pick him up.

From the short walk between the lab and his apartment complex, Viktor opened the door with his brow covered in sweat, feeling the locks of hair sticking in the back of his neck. He took his shoes off, sighing at feeling the cold wooden floor as he roamed the kitchen taking a glass of cold water. 

The silence of the apartment confused him when the thirst had gone away. Weren’t you home yet? But it was already too late, almost 10 PM. Surely all research buildings in the Academy officially closed at 8 PM, unless some of the workers have explicit permission from the Dean to stay on Academic grounds after the curfew.

Inside the kitchen, Viktor saw some dishes put over the sink, soaking them in.  He was mildly hungry—when it was too hot outside his appetite seemed to subside alongside his low-energy input—so he took an apple and eat it as he leaned against the stove.

Any other day, you’d be laying on one of the sofas with a book on your lap, or some notebook as you scribbled away any pending work you had the next day. Though there was no one when he looked toward it from the breakfast bar, his view scanning the amorph figures of blankets and cushions thrown away without a care in the two couches surrounding a coffee table.

Frowning, Viktor threw the apple core into the compost bin. The living room was too hot to tempt him into sitting on the sofa and reading a little, maybe even putting the TV on as he fell asleep.

As he walked down the hallway, he discovered the door of the bedroom open, the fan ceiling on, filling the still ambiance with a low buzzing.

Viktor peeked inside to where he found you all stretch out over the bed, like a cat soaking in the sun. Hair covered half your face, but it seemed to help with the light coming from the street lamp; the worn-out fabric of your shirt rolled up showing a peek of the soft skin beneath, and shorts showing your legs as you had kicked the bedsheet away.

He smiled, tiptoeing until he reached the bathroom, where he showered with deliciously cold water, relishing in the way the fresh drops ran out his hair and down his bare shoulders as he quickly brushed his teeth.

The reflection of the mirror let him know that his slow blinks were a sign that he was about to fall asleep, probably even standing if he could.

Looking at the clock on the nightstand, Viktor concluded he had the shortest bath of the year, opening the door and almost instantly crawling to the bed, his body wriggling until his head hit the pillow.

“You’re here,” you muttered, one of your eyes barely cracked open as you peeked at him, his sleepy eyes opening wide for a couple of blinks.

“I’m sorry for waking you, my love,” Viktor mumbled, and you rolled a little closer, your hand extended over the mattress for him to take.

You had many different smiles; the shy one was the first one he had the delight to meet. But between his favorites, among the mischievous ones you gave him after kissing him for the first time, was your sleepy smile. There was something utterly adorable in the way your eyes closed, curved in a slow smile of their own as your mouth hummed happily, still not fully acknowledging what you were doing.

You tried to shrug. “It’s fine. I’m happy you’re home,” you said, and then, because you stretched. “Cuddle me?”

Viktor hummed, feeling himself starting to drift off to slumber. “Are you not going to kick me this time?”

Your giggle filled his ears, and he found himself smiling too. "Then take my hand at least." You wriggled your hand, fingers grazing his knuckles.

He took your hand, kissing it slightly as he snuggled it near his cheek. “Goodnight, my love. Dream of me, yes?” Viktor muttered, leaning closer to kiss the top of your head. “I certainly will dream of you.”

You squeezed his hand briefly, the sudden, scarce blows of wind moving your hair. “It’s a promise, then.” You smiled, eyes already close.

That night, Viktor dreamed of a myriad of different dates; of taking you for a walk along the port, of all those late evenings tucked at a table holding hands while drinking wine. But any tuck of guilt was numb by the feeling of your hand on his as you two simply lay on the bed.

Maybe in a couple of nights, you will be chatting away as you did on your first dates, where he dressed elegantly and feigned not to be too tired after a day tinkering in the lab to woo you as you deserved—as you still do, forever, surely—but for today, this was enough to make both of you happy. And that was all that mattered.

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader arcane #viktor arcane x you #arcane viktor x gn! reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor x you #viktor x gn reader #viktor fanfiction #viktor arcane #viktor arcane fanfic #arcane viktor #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane fanfic #arcane imagines #arcane fanfiction #arcane x gn reader #arcane x gender neutral reader #my thingies :)

[stainedglassandpigs]

Ruskaina pt 2

.

.

.

.

“Pururuuuurruu”

someone was calling

But my body felt like it had just been thrown into the sun then stomped on for good measure

the last thing I wanted was to have to be social so early in the day,

so in response I simply turned my body, the dem dem Mushi couldn’t bother me if I couldn’t hear it

so now I wasn’t facing the direction of the nose.

Peace please it shoudlnt be so hard to have a quiet moment.

“PURURUUURUUUURRRU”

No, I’m to tired I’m nawt getting up.

I refuse

Covering my ear with another pillow I try to get back to my rem sleep, my dream cable was real interesting before I was rudely awaken something about a boy and a beast but i couldn’t remember the rest anymore.

The ring was still there only now it sounded to be underwater, this I could easily work with so letting my mind ease its way back into sleepy mode was natural.

My breathing was slower and I started to forget why I was even awaken in one first place when it happened directly next to my head this time that little fu(ker had moved.

“PUUUUUUU RRRRRE UUUUURRRRUUUUURRUU”

“FINE” I yell jumping up and taking the phone from Athena’s massively interrupting self.

“HELLO!” I was rubbing my eye buggers away annoyed as hell laying back down in bed stubbornly closing my eyes.

“Isabell that’s no way to greet your wonderful mom”

Well great I jsut yelled at my mother for no reason. Today as alr looking to something special.

Wait .

Mom

Why was mom calling so early

Opening my eyes I looked around trying to gauge what time of day it was.

There was no sunlight coming from the window, just a deep twilight.

“Mom why you up so late, everything okay?”

Getting up from bed I move the phone piece and grab Athena I decided I might as well get a snack while I talk

“Yeah I just was bored and everyone’s asleep, I figured you’re always up so late. I don’t wake you did I pretty ?” I could hear her concern clearly, I missed our daily call today I was so busy with-

With… what did I do today

Strange.

My memory was so foggy.

“No mom you’re fine I was just straightening up a bit” lie.

“Oh okay that’s good, oh btw your monthly don’t die care package should be coming soon, so yk don’t die. “

“Ha thanks for the encouragement mom”

“You’re welcome” I could hear her laughing which brought a smile to my face. It was always nice to talk with mom being away was so lonely I missed my family and our daily calls kept me sane.

“How was your day mom ?” Opening my fridge looking around it, empty.

Didn’t… I…

Wasn’t I supposed to go out today, I thought I did.

Odd

“Your little brother started his first day of daycare today so we took loads of pictures, don’t worry we sent you some in the care package I know how you get about seeing pictures of everyone. Oh the gardens doing lovely that tip you gave about adding crushed bone is making the compost top shelf shit fr. And the Saffron plants have begun to pop above ground which your Stepdad is really excited for soon we’ll be able to send you some, we’ve been working womp womp Also the other- wompawa wa She said to me that- wa womp”

Mom just kept rambling as a searched the kitchen area for something to snack she was basically my podcast at this point.

The kitchen was so bare, I really should’ve gone out today but I was stuck with doing my… doing my ? Doing my what ?

What had I been doing all day

It was so hazy for some reason.

Never mind it I was to focused on my snack now, ig tea would be fine for now.

“And then Miss Jackson threw all the navy out the community garden it’s a shame to see how much they’ve changed from me and your father’s time. But anyways how was your day Isabell you’ve been real quite”

“My bad mom I was making tea my day was actually-“

“BANG CLACK!”

Jumping up I fell-off the couch this time all my sections were on over drive.

It was a dream, which ment I still needed to call mom.

The sun was now pouring into the house and I was actually awake this time and the sound I heard was real.

Getting up I look in the direction of where the sound came from only to find a man standing in my kitchen making ???

Something ?

A mess ???

Both unfortunately for me the person who cleans this shoddy abode

“Your supposed to be recovering unable to move what the hell are you doing up ???”

The man turned to me and smiled

“I got hungry” he said it so matter of factly like it made so much sense.

“But your wound ??!!!?!? It’s gonna tear with all this movement” Rushing over to him, mouth running a mile a minute talking about everything that could go wrong and how we was supposed to be recovering

The kitchen was a mess for sure but that was the least of my worry’s now, this man with a straw hat was about to start bleeding out in my house AGAIN.

It was bad enough the first time my nose still burned with the smell of his blood I was not looking to relive that.

Reaching him quickly I look at the bandages. So far it wasn’t soaked through with his bodily fluids thankfully.

“May I ?” Gesturing to his wound.

“Will you make me something to eat if I say yes”

Rolling my eyes deeply, I didn’t even know his name and I was already catering to the strange man so much.

“Omg yes now can I please check the stitches”

“Okay hehe, since you promised”

“I didn’t promise” I said as I began to reach for the wrap when he stepped away just before I could do anything.

“Hey !”

“PROMISE”

“OMFG FINE FINE I PROMISE NOW STAY STILL”

I tried again and yet again he stepped out the way.

“WHAT NOW” I regret so much.

“Pinky promise me first” his features had the most serious look on them since I met him. Mind you we had almost died and he was laughing through all of it.

Sighing I raise my pinky to him which lite his face up instantly. Eagerly he took hold of mine

“Say it”

“I pinky promise” I tried to let go but he held my pinky firmly.

“Tooooo”

I shoulda just minded my own business yesterday.

“To make you breakfast if you let me see you wound and make sure you okay, good?” I look up at him growing more than slightly annoyed.

“Okay! It’s a promise you can’t break it!!” He let go of my smallest phalange.

Attempting once more I raised my hands to remove the wrap heisting just before glancing up at him to make sure he wouldn’t move another time.

Immediately I was met with his big brown eyes staring at me as he smiled lightly.

I guess he was just as curious as me about the conditions of his wound.

Looking back at my hand I carefully began unwrapping the white cloth.

As it unraveled the white seemed unchanged until the very last two layers that covered the gauze which had turned an ugly red color.

Bracing myself for what I would see I peeled the last of the bandages off.

Looking at the wound immediately one thing came to mind.

“Devil fruit ?” I said looking up at him again.

“I the Gum-Gum fruit! Hey how did you know that !!?”

“Educated guess” I shrugged

Looking back at the wound I examine the wound that remained there after a night of his devil fruit working its magic. There was some redness paired with a dark scab and a few stitches pocking out. A far cry from the deep gash it used to be.

“Stay here for a second okay”

“Sure, what are you going to do tho ?” He said watching me as I moved about the cave.

“Dressing your stitches again because they’ll get dirty if I don’t, I really wanna avoid an infection. Wait.”

I stop mid digging through my medicine bag that was still by the bed because exhaustion over took me before I could put everything up.

Standing to my full height again I looked at him. The only part of his body that was clean was the area that I cleaned.

This mf needed a shower.

“What ?!” He quirked his bushy eyebrows

“When’s the last time you took a shower ?”

“A week ago”

“Go taking a damn shower lord how are you alive still. You need to go clean your ass”

“But you promised!” He crossed his arms and stood planted.

“I am doing exactly that, see” walking over to my back pack I grabbed it and began spreading all that I foraged out onto my table.

“I first need to clean everything I didn’t get to yesterday, well, because of you. Respectfully you changed my plans drastically” As I took every thing out it was like Christmas a bit I thought .

All the commotion from yesterday rattled my brain so much I completed forgot everything I collected.

He was still standing in the kitchen as I unpacked my bag I gave him a questioning look.

“I don’t know where the bathroom is.”

“Righhht” was all I managed out,

I was so ready for my morning calm I didn’t even bother telling him I just grabbed his hand and walked him to the bathroom.

Quickly I turned on the shower, taking out a towel and rag, and dumping it into his hand.

“Do you need some clothes?” Looking him up and down I accessed his attire.

Said atire being dirty blood stained jorts and a straw hat, the t shirt he once had on long discarded

“No need to answer actual, I’ll find you some. Take a shower I’ll leave the clothes right here” I pointed at a storage unit near the door.

“And you’ll be making breakfast right” He was looking straight into my eyes again, direct eye contact really was his thing huh

“Yes yes yes, now go clean yourself. And please be careful I don’t want you to pass out in the shower. You may heal quick but who knows what’s really going on inside there.”

Walking out the bathroom I closed the door and began looking for some clothes for the straw hat man.

Which reminded me I needed to ask him for his name.

Finding some close was easy enough, although I live on the island alone my brothers some times would visit and they always left clothes and crap here.

Setting the close on the storage unit I began tidying up even tho I was still pretty tired doing nothing would only make me over think about yesterday .

And besides the cave really was a mess, blood soaked rags and stuff thrown everywhere while I was in a panic, she desperately needed some tlc

Waking Thena and giving her a treat I request I track while I clean she graciously obliged me. Cleaning for the most part goes by fast only real hassle was cleaning and sanitizing everywhere with blood.

Once I had picked everything up to an alright level I put my medical back next to the just in case my guest indeed did need something else done.

I didn’t know what that man eats so I decided on something relatively simple.

Eggs, potatoes, with some random veggies. I was a little limited since I needed to prep all the new ingredients I got yesterday before I could use any of it. And I was certain he wouldn’t want to wait for food.

Turning the stove on I added some butter to a pan and let it heat up a bit while I chopped some onions and ramps since I used the last of the garlic and the new batch was still uncleaned and processed like I liked.

Throwing those in I went to the spice cabinet and took out all that I thought I would need for the meal, adding a bit of sea salt to begin with to help caramelize the ramps and onion together.

Moving onto the potatoes I thought of what I could do with them.

Would he like hash browns more ? Baked potatoes ? Fries ???? Potato stew on the side ?

Fuck it seasoned chopped potatoes would have to do.

Going to the sack of potatoes I kept in the pantry I took out 4 medium Rosara potatoes a favorite of mine personally.

Not even bothering to peal them I roughly chop em up and call it a day

Adding a ton of seasoning just like my mom taught me I throw them in the pan with the butter and onions.

As I cleaned my area up a bit as everything continued to cook I thought about the fight.

This random boy appearing from the sky laughing going toe to toe with one of the islands most formidable beast without flinching.

For a brief second there was this moment I remembered

When the light shone on him like a hug

And his stretched fists and kicks where coming down on the beast like something akin to hell fire that he…

Almost look sort of…

Like… a god.

A small laugh leaves my lips as I think about it all.

Refocusing on what I was doing I transition now to preparing some lions mane with carrots as the the main veggies, tossing them in some oil then seasoning and finally into the oven.

With the veggies in the oven all that was left were the eggs.

But I didn’t wanna use another pan and the potatoes needed a bit longer so I just but everything away that was not in use and took out some plates and such for us to eat on while I waited for a pan to clear up.

Using a fork I poked the potatoes through.

They still needed a bit more time, but I wanted to start the eggs so everything was done when he came out. Using an oven mitt I grab the veggies out and move em over a tad then dump the potatoes onto the tray and put in all back in to finish off nicely.

Using a bit more butter to coat the pan I add 3 eggs in on low heat mixing them into the pan so they would scramble. The process was a quick moving one because the eggs cooked so fast, I graded a bit of milk and splashed it into the end mixing the whole time. The eggs had basically formed by now so I added salt pepper and garlic to it.

And with that I was pretty much done, using my shoddly made oven mitts I took out the veggies and begin plating the food.

Should I put his plate next to mine ?

In front ?

Far away ?

Looking in the direction of the bathroom I wondered how much longer he would be.

In front, I decided

That way I can see his face when we eat.

For manners and stuff..

Placing all the plates and utensils I go to grab us something to drink.

In the cabinet I look at the tea options, Dandelion, Rose, Oolong, Lemon, Matcha, ginger all these options.

I usually had a cup of matcha in the morning but my brothers always said it tasted like grass cum.

So perhaps some Oolong, my family’s favorite.

Taking it out I eyeball enough for two cups and but a kettle to boil.

Bringing the sugar n cups to the table I just sat n waited.

Either the tea would be done or he would either way all I had to do was wait.

Athena was playing a jazz inspired tune now and focusing on that was what occupied my time as a waited.

Circling my thumbs together trying to focus on the music my thoughts unfortunately begin to drift back to last night.

Exactly what I had been trying to avoid.

I could vividly see it again.

The way he looked was just so haunting his chest barely able to rise and fall skin pale as a cloud on a rainy day.

It was like sun that once lit his body had been sucked out all because he tried to save me.

He was on deaths door because I was too busy digging for truffles to noticed a 5 ton beast rampaging towards me.

It was all my fault

As I knew alr being left alone with my thoughts was indeed taking a turn for the worst

Even tho I knew it helped no one for me to think like this the cogs in my brain still churned to push out every single thought that’s while purpose was to make me feel like a royal fuck up

Closing my eyes I make myself take deep breaths and think 2 positive things I did.

1. I got more us to one cave without dying

2. I made sure he didn’t die

The again he would even-

Before I could finish my thought the bathroom door swung open and the energetic young man can out…

Running

He was running to the table

“ thankyoufortheclothes!!! FOOD FOOD FOOD “

And just like that the room and my mind was quickly filled with his bright presence.

I smiled

As I watched him almost collide with the chair I thought to myself something I had been pushing back since I began my research on the island by myself.

Maybe I did want company.

.

.

.

.

Authors rambling time 🤩

I honestly couldn’t even tell you why I’m writing this story but it’s definitely fun to try and characterize Luffy. Using this as a learning experience bc I do wanna get into writing more. I know only 2 ppl and mice see this but I would love to hear the feedback for those who do !

#monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy/reader #straw hat luffy #luffy #x reader #time skip #one piece #op

[nicistrying]

Sat 9th March

Up and out early with Maggie this morning. She was just a happy pup on this walk!

Got changed atraight into my running gear when we got home, stretched and went out for a run.. and ran my first 10K in probably over a year!? I added a 2K loop at the start bc I knew I wanted to cover more distance (signed up for 25K in feb, 30K in march on Nike) then did my usual route and hit 9K just as I was almost home, so carried on a little bit to make it up to 10 bc I had nowhere else to be, Matt took the car to work so I couldn't run any errands today 😌 It was a really good run, settled into a nice pace for the most part although my legs were very heavy for that last kilometer. And to top it off, I FINALLY got to 5K in (only just) under 32 minutes! 10K was 1hr 4mins.

Repotted some of my plants with fresh compost when I got home to cool down, made a protein shake, showered and got my pjs back on 😍 I was supposed to do more cleaning but Mags was so sleepy I didn't want to disturb her. So I've had my leftover Thai food with extra veggies for lunch and cabbaged on the couch instead 😊 Need to get up and dressed soon though as we are meeting my mams and my sister and her boyfriend for dinner.

#fitblr #health blog #fitness blog #run #saturday #health #fitness #workout #active fitblr #running #10k #progress #nike run club #maggie