#If I go missing just know I probably deserve it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pb524830 · 2 days

Text

right where you left me

part: 2 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 2.7k c/w: mention of blood, language a/n: hey guyssss here is part two enjoy it i love you ALL!! live reactions in my inbox => ALWAYS welcome!

I wait a beat, processing. “What… did you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “Us?” I demand. “Who is us?”

Paige moves her hands between the two of us exasperatedly. “Bro. You and me. Us.”

“We haven’t been an us in three years, Bueckers.”

“I know that. I know that. I just-” She lets out a huge sigh. “I miss you, bro.”

I truly can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Not that I try. But still.

“What is funny?” She demands.

I bend over, bracing my hands on my knees. And I cackle.

“You miss me?!” I howl, clutching my sides. “Oh, that’s good. Now you miss me, okay.”

“Good to know you’re still a crazy bitch.”

“Good to know you’re still fucking stupid,” I shoot back, wiping at my eyes. Her eyes widen and I can feel a retort on the tip of her tongue, because despite everything - I know her. I cut her off before she can say a word.

“What did you think was gonna happen, Paige? You were gonna come knock on my door in the middle of the night like a fucking Taylor Swift song, and tell me you miss me, and then what? Huh? I was gonna- what, kiss you under the stars? Tell you you’re the love of my life and of course I’ll take you back?” I sneer.

She clicks her tongue irritatedly, not unaccustomed to my rants. “It’s not even like that, dude.”

My eyebrows raise again. “Oh? What is it like, then, Paige? Do tell,” I snark, crossing my arms.

“I just miss… I don’t know, being around you? Like, I hate how awkward things are between us now.”

“That’s your own damn fault.”

“Yes! Okay! It’s my fault, I get it, and I’m sorry-”

“Which part are you sorry for, Paige?” I demand. “The part where you convinced me to not only cheat on my girlfriend, but also break up with her to be with you? Or maybe it’s the part where you swore we’d be together and we’d make long distance work because, really, Michigan and Connecticut aren’t that far. No, maybe it was the part where you dumped me after I came out to my family for you because you wanted to fuck other people?” My voice is rising, and I’m stepping closer to her. We’re nearly chest to chest when I finish speaking

She searches my eyes. I don’t miss the way her gaze lingers on my lips, and suddenly there’s goosebumps all down my arms and I’m conscious of the tank top I’m wearing. “All of it. Everything. I’m sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to,” she says quietly.

I search her eyes back, my lip curling. “Cop out. Fucking cop out. You’re a coward. You were a coward then, and you’re a coward now. Go home, Paige.” I turn to walk away from her, but her hand lands in the crook of my elbow.

My knees nearly buckle. It had always been like this. Her touch had always had the power to make me crumble, and it shudders through me even now.

“Maya-” she starts.

I shake her off. “I said fuck off.”

***************

“It’s Juilliard.”

“Well, open it.”

“I can’t”

Paige sighs, coming to crouch down next to me at my desk, lacing her fingers with mine. “Mai. I’m right here. No matter what happens, it will be fine.” I scoff at her. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’ve been committed to your dream school for almost a year.” Her face softens, blue eyes trained on mine. “You’re fucking incredible, dude. Any school who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you. No matter what happens when you open that letter, you’re still a badass. It’ll be okay.”

I squeeze her hand, nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. You’re right,” I say, mostly trying to convince myself. Paige places a kiss against our clasped hands and I ignore the shudder it sends through me. It’s too domestic, too intimate, and this is probably a moment I should be sharing with my actual girlfriend. “Come on. You can do it.”

I login to my admissions portal, click to view my decision and shut my eyes tight, waiting for it to load.

I hear Paige breathe next to sharply, and I open my eyes, blinking.

Dear Ms. Jacobs,

We regret to inform you…

I can’t read the rest of it. My eyes blur with tears, and sob claws its way up my throat.

I wasn’t good enough. All that work, the sweat, the tears, the hours spent in the studio - fuck all of it, because I wasn’t good enough.

“Maya,” Paige whispers. My bottom lip quivers, and the tears slip down my face. They land on the back of Paige’s hand in my lap. “Maya, baby,” she tries again, and I shake my head. My breath shudders out, and the tears are falling faster and faster now. I shake my head more indignantly, slamming my laptop shut.

A sob forces itself out of my mouth, and I bring a shaking hand to my mouth. Then the tears are really falling, streaming down my face, my whole body shaking with sobs, and I’m collapsing out of my chair into Paige’s arms. I sink into her on the floor, letting her strength support me, because God knows I have none. Her arms are firm around me, and I cry and cry and cry into her shirt, the blue of it darkening with my tears.

She presses her lips to my hairline, whispering words of reassurance against my forehead.

And though my whole world is crashing down around me, Paige is there. My Paige.

So, really - how bad could it be?

**********

“Mom!”

“Yes, honey?”

“What the hell is Paige doing here again?”

“Oh, she said she’d take Matthew to the park to play some basketball. You know how much he used to love watching her play-”

“Oh, my God!” I exclaim, stomping out of the kitchen and throwing my arms up. When the hell did she even manage to do that?

I storm out of the house, to where Paige is waiting near her car. “You better not be using my little brother to get to me, you asshole,” I warn menacingly, poking a finger into her chest. She narrows her eyes at me, and it startles me a-fucking-gain just how blue they are. She’s in a white cropped tank and mid-length blue shorts that hang off of her hips. Slowly, she pulls my finger down, wrapping her hand around it.

“Chill, Jacobs. Not everything is about you,” she says. I glare at the snark in her tone. “Ew, Maya, go change if you’re gonna come with us,” I hear my brother Matthew’s voice from behind me, a pair of Kyries hanging from his hand. I turn around to gape at him, and Paige guffaws. “Excuse you? I will take those shoes right to the store and return them-”

“Yap, yap, yap,” my brother complains, and my mouth drops open further, Paige’s laughter increasing in volume behind me.

I turn around and smack her on the stomach. “Shut up,” I hiss.

“Get in the car, kid!” Paige calls.

“Now, hang on. Where the fuck are you taking him?” I demand.

Matthew grins, running up to us. “I’m telling Mom you cussed,” he says slyly.

I make a face at him. “You’re such a little shit.”

Paige’s eyes trace over my face. “You’re sister’s a little brat, huh?” She notes, and Matthew groans in agreement. My eyes shoot to hers in shock. Brat?

She smirks at me. “You all ready?” She asks Matthew, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “You’re not taking my brother anywhere without me,” I blurt out stubbornly. What the hell? I don’t care that much. “And you’re not coming anywhere with me looking like that. Maya, you look ugly,” my brother says bluntly. “Matthew,” I warn. His attitude has really gotten worse since I’d gone to school.

“Go change,” he whines, and I look down at my old pajama pants and sleep tank, then back up to Paige. Her eyes trail up my body the same way, jaw tensing, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Yeah,” she intones hoarsely. “Go change.”

I hold her gaze for a few more seconds, the heat of it addicting. When she jerks her chin back towards my house, I listen. I run inside, up to my room, changing my clothes quickly.

I run back out in an all blue workout set, a pair of leggings and tank top that are the same royal blue as Paige and my high school colors. I fling open the door to Paige’s car, hopping in. I gather my hair to clip it up into a bun but she doesn’t move. “Hello? Go?” I say sarcastically, looking at her curiously. Her eyes are trained on me already, and it makes my chest warm.

“You’re wearing that?” She asks quietly, her knuckles white as her fingers grip the steering wheel. I crinkle my nose at her. “Sorry, did you wanna pick out my outfit?”

“Do you actually just exist to make my life difficult?” She snaps.

“Just drive,” I say, rolling my eyes.

The car is quiet for the first five seconds of the drive.

Then Matthew pipes up. “You guys fight a lot.”

Paige laughs drily. “You have no idea.”

We reached the park Paige and I had stumbled into each other at last week. Paige opens her trunk, resting her hand against the trunk door up in the air as she surveys her trunk. “You should clean your car,” I say matter-of-factly. “And you should mind your own business,” she quips back, but there’s no malice to her tone. She picks a pair of shoes out of the pile building in her car, slipping out of her driving slides to lace them up.

“Matt, you got the ball?!” She calls back to my brother. He yelps in response, already running to the court.

That’s the other thing that really pissed me off about all of it. He used to worship her. It’s not like he had a dad to teach him all the things he was supposed to know. But ever since we were kids, Paige had been there.

When he was four, he scraped his knee, and she cleaned the blood up that trailed down his leg because she knew it made me squeamish. She’d cleaned it with alcohol, holding his hand through the sting, and kissed the bandage she’d placed on top of it.

When he was six, he picked up a basketball for the first time. Paige was his hero. He wanted to be just like her, and she’d spent hours with him and Drew teaching them all the fundamentals. He dragged me to her high school games, starry-eyed at watching his idol run up and down the court.

When he was eight, my mom couldn’t make it to his 3rd grade talent show. She had an emergency shift at work, and I still only had my permit. Paige had sped through perhaps three different stop signs trying to get me there on time, and she’d taken us out for milkshakes afterwards.

My jaw clenches at the memories.

I watch them together, watch her let him blatantly foul her over and over again, purposefully missing layups while he laughs that she’s going easy on him. A tear tracks down my face, and I wipe at it stubbornly.

“Hey, you good?” Paige pants, running up to me, her brows furrowed. I hope she hasn’t seen me crying. “What? Yeah. So good.” Matthew is close behind her, his water bottle in hand. I blink. “Damn. Y’all already done?”

Matthew frowns. “Are you dumb? It’s been an hour and a half.” I open my mouth to spit a retort back at him, when Paige interjects. “Hey, take it easy on your sister,” she chides, clapping him on the back. “Thank you,” I sniff. She grins at him slyly. “She’s already shit at basketball, no need to make her feel worse,” Paige smirks. I roll my eyes.

Matthew howls with laughter, high fiving her. She takes his head in the crook of her arm, ruffling his hair. “Ah, I missed you, kid,” she laughs. “Now, hang on,” I splutter. “I’m not that bad.” Paige quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Play me then.” I scoff. “No!”

Paige backs up, dribbling the ball between her legs, and starts clucking like a chicken.

“Oh, that’s really mature,” I say loudly, crossing my arms. She doesn’t stop, and my stupid little brother joins in. “Play me!” She calls over his noises. I roll my eyes again, and she laughs. “They gon’ get stuck up there!”

“Okay, check up,” I snap finally.

I’m not awful - I played as a kid and in high school before committing to dance full time - but I’m no Paige Bueckers. I meet her at the 3-point line, gesturing for the ball. She grins, her eyebrows raised. “You sure?” I flick my wrist, gesturing for the ball again. “Don’t get all pussy on me now, Bueckers,” I tease.

It’s natural. Too natural, too instinctual, to be going back and forth with her like this.

Paige tosses me the ball, and I toss it back to her, before it lands in my hands again. I back up, dribble it out, then make a quick drive to the basket. I lay it in easily, catching it under the net, and turning to frown at her. “You’re taking it easy on purpose,” I complain, thudding the ball into her chest. She grasps onto the ball, staring down at me, her eyes searching mine. “How do you know that?” She murmurs.

I shake my head, biting back a smile. I can’t tell if the rapid beating of my heart is from the drive or from the fact that she’s this close to me, smelling clean and fresh and so Paige. “Cut the shit. Play for real,” I tell her, dropping my hands from the ball. Neither of us move, the ball the only thing between us. Then she breaks the thread connecting us, dribbling back to the perimeter.

On her drive, I grasp at her shirt, and she yelps, completing the play anyway, the ball falling deftly through the net. “Foul!” She yells at me. “You have like seven inches on me, how the fuck else am I supposed to defend you?!” I demand. Paige stares at me. Then she cracks her neck, tongue in her cheek.

When she blocks my next shot viciously, I know she’s playing for real.

As much as I hate to admit it, she’s incredibly attractive when she’s so competitive. Possession after possession, she absolutely dominates the game. It doesn’t help that my idiot brother is cheering for her the whole time, spurring her confidence on. She knocks me to the ground on the last play, yelling triumphantly in my face as she stands over me, feet on either side of my body. Her body glistens with sweat, but her smile is fucking blinding. She leans down, her chain dangling in my face. “Still not shit, huh, Jacobs?”

I grab her shirt, pulling her to the floor, and her knees land on the concrete on either side of my torso so that she’s almost straddling my body. She lurches forward with the momentum, her hands on either side of my head. Her ponytail falls down, brushing my nose. “Shut up, Bueckers,” I mumble, but I’m smiling, my eyes moving between her lips and her eyes, my hand still fisted in her shirt.

“Are you guys gonna kiss?!” Matthew calls, breaking me out of my trance. I shove her off of me and she squawks, falling to the side. “Shut up, Matthew,” I grumble, stalking past my brother and smacking him on the back of the head. Paige is on her feet now, dusting off her hands. “So sensitive,” she says mockingly, eliciting a withering look from me. She sighs, turning to my brother and holding her hands out helplessly. “Can’t take a joke,” he says, shaking his head. Paige laughs loudly, looping an arm around his shoulder and walking with him to her car.

“How do milkshakes sound?” I hear her ask him.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #fic #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #paige bueckers x oc #fic talk

163 notes · View notes

codtrashsammy · 2 days

Text

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

#simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #sammys soft times #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny mactavish x reader

215 notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 8 hours

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 64

part 1 | part 63 | tumblr masterlist | ao3

cw: angst, big gooey feelings

—

When Steve gets back to the boathouse, Eddie’s shaking like a leaf; has to touch Steve like a blind man, pat his hands all over his face and down his arms and across his chest. “Know I’ve— got no right to a-ask this of you,” he says through chattering teeth, “but… would you—?”

…Goddammit.

“Get over here,” Steve says. He draws Eddie into him; squeezes as hard as he can, one arm around Eddie’s waist, the other cupping the back of his neck — skin to skin beneath a mess of matted hair.

He says nothing.

There are things he could say; probably should say right now — things like ‘you tried to kill me’ or ‘I almost let you,’ or ‘you just left without saying anything, Eddie, how could you do that?’ — but it feels like treating a wasp sting when someone else needs a tourniquet.

Eventually, the shivering stops.

Eddie pulls back with a bashful expression. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They move to sit down on the floor — side by side, shoulders touching, toes over the edge of the hole in the floorboards. The water moves like ink beneath them, and Eddie looks so beautiful it makes Steve want to die. His hands twitch at his sides, the small, lovesick part of him begging to know why they stopped touching; wants so desperately to press his fingers to the dark circles under Eddie’s eyes. To sink them into his hair and never let go again.

Even though Eddie doesn’t want that.

Even though he left.

Pain zips behind Steve’s eyelids like lightning, leaves the taste of copper on the back of his scorched tongue. He reaches up and pulls his hair — sharp at the root; needs the distraction. Can’t let himself think about his stupid heart right now.

Whatever, or whoever, this Vecna thing is, Steve knows it feeds on grief. Feasts on it; scents sadness in the water like a shark chasing blood. He can’t just swim into the ocean and cut himself for sport. Not unless he wants to end up like Chrissy.

Eddie opens his mouth and offers Steve another knife. “You can say it, you know.”

His tone is gentle; probing — eyes earnest, chin tucked.

“Say what?”

“Ohh, y’know.” Eddie puts his chin in his hand; clucks his tongue. “Whatever’s got you all, uh…” He furrows his brow and pokes his tongue into his cheek, licking back and forth over the smooth skin inside. “I can take it.”

Steve schools his expression. “What if I don’t want to say anything to you?” It’s quiet. Level. Less heat than he intended.

Eddie’s hand comes up to his heart. Chin dipping lower, psychic damage sincerity in his ridiculous Bambi eyes, he locks Steve into his gaze.

Holds him there.

Holds him; nearly makes him squirm.

“Then I’d say I deserve that, too.”

The faintest flicker of a smile; a spark of flint in a pitch black room.

Steve can’t help but catch the flame.

His lips land on Eddie’s with all the delicacy he can manage, hummingbird wings beating away inside his chest. The kiss is soft. Almost timid. Fucking perfect when Eddie starts kissing him back; just feels right; memory slotting into place after weeks of amnesia. Fervent noises, pressing harder, every movement like an oath, Steve pours himself into Eddie — gets his hands back under his hair, tangles his fingers behind his neck and nestles his thumbs in the hollows behind Eddie’s ears. Lets himself come home.

Eddie pulls back enough to whisper, “Jesus Christ, I missed you.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

They both feel it — the bubble bursting. The prolonged whine of a balloon deflating to the floor.

Steve slips from the embrace, hugging his arms around his legs, listening to their harsh breaths in the stale hush that follows.

Eddie mirrors his pose. Taps his fist against the top of his other hand, rings clacking. “Shit, Steve,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m— I’m so fucking sorry. For all of it. For everything.”

“It’s fine,” Steve lies.

It isn’t.

Nothing ever is, these days.

—

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

141 notes · View notes

monisahyo · 2 days

Note

Hiiii👋🏽

Idk if this is a good idea or not but I’m all about Natasha getting the love and life she deserves so could you write a fic about her and reader retiring from the Avengers and getting an apartment/house together. It’d be so cute to see Nat and Reader being domestic with each other and stuff.

Also, congratulations on starting your blog! I can’t wait to read your stories and stuff☺️

Summary: after your retirement, you just want to spend some time with your lovely girlfriend natasha.

Warnings: intended lowercase, fluff (a little bit if you squint your eyes)

A/N: omg thank you so much for this request. i hope i could somehow write what you had in your mind. also i'm sorry if this is a little bit short or not containing as much fluff as expected i'm just really bad at writing this stuff. i hope i can learn it fast tho!!

after signing the retirement papers, you were ready to go home. but first, you needed to do some things first.

picking up the last things from your desk and moving them into a box, you find a picture frame with a group photo of the avengers. all of them. seeing this your eyes are starting to fill with tears and memories of the good old days are flooding your brain. taking a napkin and wiping away the tears, you are ready to leave this part of your life behind and finally move in together with your girlfriend - natasha.

outside the avengers campis you turn around or the last time. "ahh shit, i'm gonna miss this place" and with these being your last words, your turn around and drive home to your apartment.

after a 20 minute drive you finally arrive at your destination. just being able to enter your home and knowing you won't have to fear for the love of you life is a relief.

twisting the keys and opening the door, you notice that the lights are switched off and there is no sign of life in your apartment. "honey! i'm home", after a few minutes and still no answer you start to get worried and roam around the living room looking for your girlfriend. suddenly you smell something. it smells like something is being cooked. you rush to the kitchen when you notice natasha standing at the counter. she is wearing headphones and probably listening to music so she isn't hearing you. sneaking up on her you put your hands on each side of her waist and get as close to her as you possibly can. you expected her flinching so you press a kiss on her cheek and take of her headphones.

"hey baby" you whisper in her ear. "geez, do you have to scare me like that!" she says putting the knife on the counter and turning around. now facing you, she puts her arms on your shoulders and presses light kisses onto your lips. "what have you been up to?" you ask, spying to her left and seeing a cutting board with various cut-up vegetables and a pot filled with cooked rice. "oh this, it's nothing. i thought i'd suprise my lovely girlfriend with a small dinner and to celebrate our retirement i even planed a surprise for you!" she says excited. "oh a surprise? but this is already enough" you say pointing at her and the half-way cooked meal. "and besides, i also have a gift for you" you whisper into her ear, picking her up and placing her onto the counter. you start kissing her soft, welcoming lips. you start making your way down to her neck and leaving small kisses and bites everywhere. as a response you only get a "mmmhh" from natasha, as she is too fixated on your hands on her waist slowly making their way under her shirt. "shit i missed you natty" you mutter whilst kissing her collarbone. "y/n we have to stop.. i have to finish the dinner.." she mutters whilst moving her fingers under your chin.

picking her up and moving to your newly shared bedroom, you softly lay her on your queen sized bed. "the food can wait darling. i need to spend some time with you." you mutter against her lips.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #reader x natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #black widow x reader #black widow #avengers #sapphic #wlw #lesbian #nmlnm #gxg

77 notes · View notes

wexhappyxfew · 2 days

Note

12 on Subtle Love for Judy and Rosie? Simply cannot get enough of them ❤️

JAMIE HEYYYY!!!! thank you so much first of all for dropping this in the askbox :) very very appreciated on my end + it's for judy and rosie, my two sweetbeans who deserve nothing but the best, so truly, thank you!! i was inspired by the intimacy of sharing in the quiet moments and in this case, this piece hit me a bit harder than others. we come to judy in a time where she's wrangling some of the loses that the group experiences, over and over. and she's trying to find some anchor to hang onto in this ferocious sea that continually knocks her down, over and over......and rosie happens to be that anchor :)

looking out for me

(a/n): for the judy x rosie girlies :') in the midst of finals season, but needed a break from biophysics for the brain and landed on a judy x rosie piece that i'd been playing around with for a few weeks and finally found a place to put it in! prompt is: "You can call (talk to me) me. Day or night. I'm there for you." (changed call to 'talk to me'). please enjoy these two and the intimacy of sharing! <3

The briefing room was probably the place she felt it most.

The loss. The amount of lives that had stepped through the doors and heard that final mission, not knowing it would their final mission in life.

With the lights not on and the sun barely risen outside, it was almost peaceful. When they weren't being told that recipe for a suicide mission.

It was weird knowing Annie Bradshaw wouldn't be walking through those doors today for the mission; along with Margie or Bessie or Kennedy.

Knowing that their lives were scattered somewhere in continental Europe if they hadn't all died.

If.

Judy had gotten her tears out - it was funny, being so accustomed to death day in and day out, she got used to the names being told around the base. She just didn't expect it to be their names.

Reaching up to brush at a stray tear, Judy schooled her features a bit better than she had previously that morning when she'd woken up and Viv had watched her breakdown all alone and build herself slowly back up. None of them really wanted to have to talk about it - the four of them that were missing - especially Francis. Francis seemed to feel it deep within her enough that she was numb. Numb to it all. Judy hurt for her. One day she'd find herself better able to understand these emotions, these feelings, all those unwanted thoughts in her brain. For now, she could only sit and let them grow. She heard the door open from somewhere behind her and slowly turned her head over her shoulder.

Rosie Rosenthal stepped into the briefing room, his gaze lingering around the place, only before settling on her there in the chair. Judy watched him from across the room, the pound of her heart causing all the blood to rush to her head and her eyes, and it took all her might to stay right there in the chair instead of launching across the room to beg him to hold her and put her back together.

To get rid of this ache, this ever-present constant in her life.

Every person going down in a flying coffin, MIA or dead.

But even he couldn't do that if she couldn't even do it for herself. No one could do, especially if you couldn't do it yourself.

Judy hadn't taken the time to realize he had crossed the room, in his slow approach and settled there on the seat beside her. She watched him for a quiet moment and licked her lips.

"Not hungry?" he asked her quietly, leaning forward against his knees and looking up at her with those big, worried eyes, "I noticed you weren't at breakfast." Judy watched him, before a stubborn tear rolled down her cheek, quickly wiping it away, her hands slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her ears, loud enough for any other sense to be drowned out. She stared at him and swallowed the cry in her throat and shook her head.

"Not really." Judy managed out quickly, before looking towards the window, trying to control her breathing rate and her pounding heart, "Just needed a place to be alone….for a bit." Her vision became slightly blurred by her tears and she felt her body aching to cry, to let it all out, to get rid of this feeling and become comfortably numb. But she couldn't do that. She had to keep it in.

She could tell Rosie was taking it in, her poor mumbles of words, mulling them over and thinking all at once. His face looked more strained than usual and he seemed so still, like some sort of statue. She blinked away her tears - over and over.

"You going to be okay for the mission today?" she heard Rosie ask quietly, and there was something in his voice that made her want to cry just a little bit more.

Ever since Rosie had asked for her to be the turret ball gunner for Rosie's Riveters, she had been trying her hardest, putting out with all she could, to do her best in his eyes. There was a certain level of gaining his trust inside the plane that she had already gained outside the plane. A trust that she could operate a gun and strike down what enemy planes she could.

And he knew she was hard on herself, everyone had known that.

And with Silver Bullets being out of commission and their previous crew splintered in various groups, into Operations and HQ and all over Europe, she was still trying to convince herself she could get back to that headspace she'd been in under Annie and Captain Faulkner.

Now with her third commanding pilot, the fear she'd lose him was overwhelming.

"I will." Judy said quietly, looking over at him, his own eyes meeting her red-rimmed ones and she nodded, "I promise you." Rosie watched her; she usually never saw this much of his concerned side of him. He was usually pretty good at hiding it, at least in front of the other men and especially in front of her.

But sometimes, she'd hop out of that ball turret, sweat marks streaked across her face, burn marks on her cheeks, her hands beat-red and shaking and she'd see something flash through Rosie Rosenthal's gaze that made her want to take his worry away in any way she possibly could.

That maybe she could do something that wouldn't worry him, that would reassure him and take that fear away. Because even if he didn't show it, his eyes and that far-off look were ever-present and she saw it, even when staring at each other from across the interrogation table.

Because he'd stare at her as she spoke - citing what she saw, how many chutes, the works - and she'd watch his jaw clench and those eyes turn dark, and he'd speak solemnly almost, and an undisturbed, coldly, calm demeanor and would be by her side when they were dismissed. And he'd ask her how she was and if she needed a sit down. And he'd always have that look. One she replayed over and over in her head.

Like it was the last time he'd be seeing her get out of that ball turret.

"Well," Rosie said quietly, reaching into his inner coat pocket, revealing a neatly folded, lumpy brown bag, "then I can't have my ball gunner going up on an empty stomach so. Eat." He held out the brown paper bag and she stared at him, unsure of the offering, before taking it into her grasp and adjusting herself to sit up a bit. She looked hesitantly at the bag before looking up at him.

Watching with those persistent eyes, she slowly opened up the bag and inside was two pieces of bread, along with a sausage rolled in napkins and an orange. Her stomach, admittedly, growled at the sight and smell of food and she heard Rosie chuckle from beside her.

"Go on," Rosie said softly, his voice thrumming against her ears in a pleasant way that she'd never complain about, "here." He pulled his canteen forward and handed it to her. "Water, too." Judy watched him, in slight amazement and then met his gaze.

"Thanks, Rosie," she said quietly, "you didn't have to-"

"Don't worry about it," he said casually, and then settled into the chair and looked to her, "food's more important than anything and…I don't mind sitting here with you to make sure you enjoy it." She smiled a bit wider at his words, before digging into the bag and pulling the orange from the contents of the bag and settling it in her palm. Staring at the orange, she began to feel her eyes fill with tears and Rosie seemed to notice, leaning forward and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," Judy managed out, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, a rather ugly sniffle leaving her nose as she nodded to the orange, "it's just….do you want half? I shared these with Bes all the time, so." Rosie held her gaze for a moment, before squeezing her shoulder warmly and nodding.

"Of course." he said, and Judy cracked out a smile towards him and sniffled again, "Big fan of oranges, ya know?" Judy let out a small laugh and she watched him grin, before she slowly began to peel the fruit, with Rosie's attentive gaze on her own downcast eyes and her slightly shaky fingertips.

"Oranges' your favorite?" Rosie asked her quietly, and Judy looked up, nodding.

“Back home, my brothers and sisters and I would always eat these. Ma made sure if we had anything, we had oranges," Judy said, a small chuckle leaving her lips, "Bes knew I loved them, so we'd usually share. All the time. And since…since she's not here, I wanted to share. With you." Rosie grinned at her, his eyes soft and lingering as he nodded. She smiled again before peeling away the rest of the bright orange outer surface. She looked up at him.

"Plus, it's rare when we get oranges in anyway, so….it's pretty special," she said, pulling the orange in half and then handing the first half to him, "for you." Rosie took the orange and smiled at her with a breathy, "Thanks." Taking a bite of the orange, that familiar and nostalgic taste flooded her mouth and she couldn't help but breathe a little easier just at that.

"Thank you, Rosie," Judy said, swallowing the orange and nodding to the bag, "it means a lot." Rosie gave her a worried smile, where it didn't quite reach his eyes and showed that maybe she had worried him more than she would ever know, but he nodded and looked to her fully.

"I know after the news, it hit you pretty hard." Rosie said, and she felt her throat tighten just at his words, the thought of what had happened, "And Judy….you know, you know you can talk to me. Day or night." Judy nodded and let a shaky smile cross her features.

"I'm there for you," he said softer this time, "you won't lose me that easy." That got a grin on Judy's face as she took another bite of the orange and met his gaze again, his baby blues watching her like it was the greatest sight to behold on base - when there were surely other things like the blue skies, or the setting sun, or the sight of one of those fortresses landing against the tarmac.

They didn't say much for the next few minutes, as they each enjoyed their halves of the orange, but Judy couldn't help but let her eyes linger on him for a moment after each bit of orange in her mouth. Watching how gently he had taken the orange from her, and how tender he still appeared now. How calm she felt sitting there next to him.

"You okay, Judy?" Blinking, she noticed that the orange was empty from her hands, and she was staring off into nothing important, and Rosie's hand was present on her shoulder. Judy met his gaze and then nodded, before covering her hand with her own.

"Yes," she said quickly, nodding again, "just, thank you Rosie. For everything. For looking out for me." Rosie smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, the tops of his cheeks dusting pink.

And he didn't have to say much - he just said, "Next time you get your hands on some oranges, come and find me."

Maybe oranges will be our new 'I got your back and you got mine'.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #judy rybinski #rosie rosenthal #judy x rosie #they #shared #oranges #(sobs in a corner)#ya know those quotes about sharing oranges? yeah that was basically my commentary on those in a moment of grieving and i just i-#mentally and emotionally charged by this so #dont mind me losing it in the tags AGAIN #yeah them #them them them #someone give them all the best and brightest things for their future plz #(cries)#HE NOTICES THINGS SHE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE ABOUT HERSELF !!!!!!! (he notices i scream)

30 notes · View notes

noideawhatshappenin · 6 hours

Text

I need to rant about a few things from Bad Batch so

SPOILERS AHEAD

I'm writing this based on memories right after my first watch because my emotions are overwhelming me and I need to rant about them to strangers on the Internet. They're also not in any chronological or logical order.

First off, Echo telling Emerie that he knew the Zillo was Omegas doing? Because he would have done the same?

Immaculate. Fives would be proud to see his brother still being up to dangerous shit. And even passing it along to his little sister/daughter.

On the same note, the Zillo breaks out and the boys outside immediately know it's not coincidence because of course it would be one of their genius madlads.

Crosshair: Was that Echo or Omega.

Wrecker and Hunter without missing a beat: Omega

Because of course it was her.

Then Crosshair saying Clone Force 99 died with Tech had me crying buckets. Baby really has lost all feeling of self worth and needs time to heal on Pabu. Poor boy. Probably feels hella responsible for his death, too, because he wasn't there to help them.

Next up, Hemlock's operatives? You cannot tell me that they're not reminiscent of the Clone Force 99 we saw in Clone Wars. Using debris as a shield, like the first plan we see them do? One fighting with knives, like Hunter? One having a rifle, like Crosshair? Hemlock saw the boys and said: damn I want that as well.

It also explains why many people (me included) hoped for the reveal of Tech being CX-2. They're meant to seem like the Batch.

Also I really hoped Scorch would somehow survive this, just because I'm currently replaying Commando and feel for my poor boy.

Then I think a lot of us remember the meme with the explosion? Absolutely adore, that it was Nala Se blowing the research and Rampart to pieces.

Don't get me wrong, Rampart was a great addition to the recent episodes and his screams had me dying with laughter, but he was an evil piece of shit till the end. He died as a selfish evil Empire guy instead of dying for redemption (like there is a tendency in Star Wars) or getting to live on without any change. He stayed an asshole, even if he was kinda funny in the end.

Now to get into some specifics about the ending and the fate for the boys.

The cut to black when one of the operatives threatened Crosshairs hand? I nearly shat myself, holy hell. What the actual fuck.

The constant pan to Wrecker being injured? I was fully expecting him to sacrifice himself in the end, very glad he didn't.

The scene in the rain on the bridge? Immaculate. The perfect climax to the show. Perfection.

Hemlock's threat being empty, because he needs Omega.

Crosshair still worried because, even if Hemlock won't shoot Omega, his trauma won't just go away and he cannot risk Omega getting hurt.

Omega realising Crosshairs struggle and helping out.

Hunter realising that Omega realised.

Crosshair getting the first hug.

And then we see them leave. Safely. Because it's over. Their fight is over. Bad Batch is over.

Seeing all the clones and children happy on Pabu was the kind of ending the show deserved.

I'd go so far as to call it the ending the show needed. Because the Bad Batch would never have stopped fighting, if there was still danger threatening one of their members. Omega wouldn't have stopped fighting if she had lost another one of her brothers or hadn't been able to free the other clones.

The only way for them to find peace in that world, was a happy end. And I think that's beautiful.

In fact, this leads right into my final thoughts on this. Omega leaving to fight for the rebellion is very on brand for her selfless nature. It's also why this has to happen in the future. The Bad Batch had done their duty. They had fought enough battles for their lifetime, which is why we don't see them joining the rebellion with her. Why it has to happen, when Omega is ready to leave on her own.

Then of course, I cried buckets for Tech's glasses on the dashboard. Because her following in his footsteps and becoming a pilot makes this story come full circle.

Sidenote, I'm pretty sure her hairstyle is, at the very least, inspired by Phee. And her flying is probably closer to Phee than Tech as well, because she is still a chaos child.

Perhaps we'll see more shows from this time. We're certainly still lacking important info.

How does Wolffe join his brothers?

Why are Gregor, Wolffe and Rex "retired" in Rebels?

What happens to Echo?

I imagine, Filoni will give us a Clone Rebellion show (possibly with a sadder ending than Bad Batch) to answer these questions.

Do I have a closing thought? Yes.

As nice as the final scene was, we were absolutely robbed of older Crosshair and Wrecker. ROBBED I SAY.

#tbb spoilers #tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb 3 #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb omega

27 notes · View notes

jimraisedmeup · 1 day

Text

TICK // 13.1 - i'm on fire

Rating: mature (angst, language, sexual content, virginity taking)

Word Count: 3000

A/N: *this chapter will contain graphic depictions of consensual sexual acts.

**longest chapter yet - 3k words

also... FORESHADOWING... pay attention bbys..

what do you guys think about the pace of this story?

technically, this story started right before Will went missing back in '83. it will eventually catch up with season 4 (1986).

also dirty things kick up after this because well, teenage relationships don't evolve to smut overnight. mehehe...

i plan on some time jumps coming soon, while also focusing on main events in the relationship. there won't be a ton of interaction with certain characters (Mike, Eleven, etc.) until then, because, well, in the show, Robin doesn't come along until season 3 and Eddie in season 4.

but let us not forget the arrival of *Billy* in 1984.

is there anything in particular you guys look forward to reading between '84 and '86? i'm genuinely curious ;-)

☾

February 15, 1984 - junior year

Your breathing was heavy, jagged and painful. How long had you been running?

Your muscles ached. Your vision blurred for a moment - upon catching your reflection in the dirty mirror, you could clearly see blood splattered across your face.

The blood… all of the blood… blood that was spat in your face.

You knew what you had done and you knew what you had to do. Nothing would be the same.

Floating in and out of consciousness, you let go.

☾

Hey little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone? Mhmm I got a bad desire Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

☾

You opened your eyes to darkness.

You shot up in the bed, panicking for a split second, before realizing where you were. Eddie Munson's bedroom.

After a few moments, your tired eyes adjusted to the shadowy surroundings. The bed itself was warm and soft, a woodsy smell enveloping you as you shifted. The fluorescent glow of streetlights emanated from a distance behind the curtained windows.

A neon-faced alarm clock on the dresser told you it was 2AM.

Memories flooded back of the night before. You still weren't sure of the consequences you'd face after spitting on Mr. Eulin. You knew that your father didn't care where you were, but you were sure that Robin would have noticed your absence.

Pangs of embarrassment ran across your heart as you remembered dumping all of your problems on Eddie. Especially after the many times you avoided him in the hallways - simply because you were a coward who didn't want to let anyone in.

He deserved better than that.

Looking around, you were shocked to see Eddie sleeping on the floor in a bundle of blankets. His breathing was even and barely audible.

You threw your own blankets off without a second thought. Perching on the edge of the bed and reaching your foot as far as it would go, you kicked the sleeping boy's shoulder.

He didn't stir. You huffed, and kicked him harder.

Probably harder than you meant to.

"What the fuck, Uncle Wayne! Let me sleep!" he mumbled into his pillow, swatting your foot away.

You scoffed, and whispered back to him, "Do I look like your uncle, dingus?"

Eddie looked up at you from his makeshift bed, rubbing his eyes. "Jesus Christ, I forgot you were here."

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Why did you kick me?"

"Because you're on the floor!" you said, exasperated.

Eddie's voice became slightly high pitched in irritation. "So?!"

"So," you paused. "You should be up here. With me."

He stared blankly at you. "I didn't know if you'd want me to. I didn't want you to just, like, wake up and have me in the bed with you."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you scooted yourself further into the bed, making room for him. "Just… stop fussing and get up here, will you?"

It didn't take his sleepy figure very long to emerge from the blankets on the floor. Your face heated up like an iron on a fire when you saw he wore only a t-shirt and boxer shorts. A distinct line of dark, curly hair trailed down past the said shorts. But instead of making some rude comment like you normally would, you stayed silent and watched him.

The minute Eddie was under the blankets, you could feel how warm he was, smelling the faint trace of his cologne.

You coughed. "Can I, um, use the restroom?"

"Hell no!” he joked. But he couldn't hold in his drowsy, deep chuckle. "I’m kidding. You know where the bathroom is."

You inched your way out, dropping your feet onto the cold floor at the foot of the bed. As you turned the handle of his bedroom door, Eddie called out.

"Hurry back, freak. I miss you already."

☾

Tell me now, baby, is he good to you? And can he do to you the things that I do? Oh no I can take you higher Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

☾

Staring into the bathroom mirror suddenly reminded you of the hazy dream you had just woken up from. Shivers ran down your spine. Touching your face, you saw no trace of blood splatter, but you could almost still feel it on your skin. The shocking feeling of the blood as it was coughed into your eyes.

"What the fuck," you breathed, slapping your own face slightly.

Shaking yourself out of it, you swiftly looked away from the mirror, premonitions aside. You made your way around the small bathroom, doing your business and washing your hands.

Stealthily, you used a little of the mouthwash that was on the counter and spit it into the running water. If Eddie was about to be that close to you in bed, you didn't want him to think your breath smelled.

You purposely avoided the mirror again as you shut off the light and re-entered Eddie's bedroom. Fiddling with the door handle, you locked it shut behind you.

"What time does your uncle get home?" you asked the half-asleep figure on the bed. He didn't answer right away, so you assumed he fell back to sleep.

His voice sounded surprisingly awake, though. "A little after six or so. Why?"

You awkwardly squirmed back into the bed, grateful for the warmth on your feet and legs. You settled yourself between Eddie and the wall.

"Just wondering."

Eddie looked over at you suspiciously, a smirk evident on his face even in the poorly lit room. "Do you plan on taking advantage of me, Miss Buckley? Is that why you wanted me in the bed? Such clandestine behavior for a girl like you."

His mischievous grin was contagious. Just like everything else about him.

Picking at your nails, you feigned innocence. "What kind of girl do you think I am, Mr. Munson?"

You chose your words carefully, almost recreating the conversation you had that long ago September day, right before he gave you the tattoo on your hip.

He took the bait, realizing what you were doing.

"Hmm… I dunno. Eldest Buckley daughter. French Club. Good grades," Eddie responded, then he gasped dramatically. "...but didn't I see her leave with that scary Munson boy in his van after detention? On Valentine's Day, of all days? How scandalous."

You were cracking up laughing at this point. Eddie continued, this time in a higher-pitched voice, reminiscent of a gossiping housewife from the '50's.

"Betty, I can't even imagine what her parents might think. I heard she has a tattoo now. I bet her and that Hellfire Cult boy went off to make whoopee in the woods somewhere. If she knew any better, she could just sit on her vibrating washing machine without needing no man!"

"You did not just say 'make whoopee'!"

You were almost doubled over in laughter, and so was Eddie, breaking out of the corny character voice.

"Indeed I did, missy. I think I deserve an Oscar for that performance."

You leaned closer to him. "I think you deserve a lot. Everything. All day, everyday."

Peering over at you in the bed, Eddie examined you in close proximity. You could tell that he was pondering over your words.

"Is that why you used mouthwash when you went to the bathroom?" he questioned seriously, traces of his previous silly behavior fading away.

You rolled onto your back, looking away with an unsteady chuckle.

"No idea what you're talking about." But really, you did, and he was dead on the money. His honest gaze gave you goosebumps suddenly.

"You know, it's kinda dark in here, but I can see your nipples through my Black Sabbath t-shirt."

You gasped, pulling the blankets up to your neck with another laugh. "Eddie!"

He laughed too, but it sounded a little nervous. A moment of thoughtful silence passed between them.

Eddie sat up and ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Look, I'm going to kiss you in about ten seconds."

Your breath caught in your throat, but said nothing. If you were honest with yourself, you couldn't think of a single thing you wanted more.

"And if you don't want me to, then reject me now," he explained, looking over at you. "And I'll fuck off, I'll go back to the floor. No questions asked. But I think you locked that door for a reason."

The boy with the large brown eyes moved closer to you, almost hovering above you. His hand reached under your blanket.

"Can I touch you?" he asked, his voice rough, almost desperate.

You shifted, somehow managing to get closer to him. You grabbed his warm hand under the sheets and squeezed it.

"It's been more than ten seconds, Eddie."

He let out a small laugh. "Well, you know I've always been terrible with my timing."

So you kissed him first.

Leaning up, you eagerly pressed your lips to his, one hand on the back of his neck to kiss him harder. You began to guide his hand underneath the tattered shirt you wore.

He pulled his mouth away for a second. "Okay, am I dreaming, Buckley? Are you sure about this?"

You sighed, head dropping back onto the pillow. "I asked to stay the night. I locked the bedroom door. I'm in your bed. This is borderline premeditated murder."

"I just want to know that you want this as much as I do," he said simply, fiddling with the edge of your shirt, as if he was picking a lock.

You touched his face, his pale skin almost glowing in the darkness, his brown eyes were pools of onyx.

"I want you, Eddie."

Something snapped in him, like opening floodgates. He maneuvered himself above you, kissing you like his life depended on it.

You pushed the blankets aside. "C'mere."

No hesitation remaining, Eddie moved his body between your legs. He kissed down your neck and placed his grip on your waist underneath the shirt, his shirt, that you wore. The shivers on your spine turned into a scorching fire, a fever taking over like a werewolf afflicted by a full moon.

He lifted your shirt up. You raised your arms to assist him, but instead of completely removing it, Eddie stopped the shirt right at your eyes. Your arms were gently trapped above you and your vision was obscured.

The slightly chilly air of his bedroom wasn't lost on your exposed skin. You felt him pause, and you could almost feel his eyes rake over your now bared chest.

You gasped when you felt his mouth on you, between your breasts and then underneath them. Nervousness fluttered through you. You had never been this exposed to anyone before - something in you said it was a wicked act.

And then a voice in the back of your head whispered, you'll be nothing but wicked the rest of your life.

All of the times you had felt ashamed for touching yourself in the middle of the night, all of the times you heard it was a sin. The raging battle within yourself for wondering why something that felt so natural could be considered wrong.

You couldn't find a single thing wrong with these hands that dragged across your skin. The grip on your hip bones. The lips that grazed your neck, biting softly. The fingertips that lingered at the edge of your shorts.

How could it be wrong when it was done with nothing but trust and respect?

You were panting at this point, writhing underneath Eddie, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying teasing you. He kept his own hips held away from you as his hands explored, teasing.

The exploration was subtle, though, somehow both caressing and rough. Eddie touched the spots of bare skin behind your armpits, inside of your knees, next to your belly button. He nibbled at the seam of your underwear.

And then he placed a heated, messy kiss to your lips, nuzzling your jaw with his head, like he was unsure for a moment.

His breath on your collarbone made you twitch. Using your free legs to your advantage, you enveloped them around him, dragging his hips roughly towards you. And then you realized what he was holding back; you could clearly feel the throbbing hardness between his legs through your shorts.

A thin sheen of sweat was creeping up on your neck, your own wetness beginning to come through the thin fabric of the shorts. Or was it Eddie? You didn't know, and frankly, didn't care.

You never felt more alive, more unabashedly human, in your entire life.

☾

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby Edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley Through the middle of my skull

☾

Almost consumed in this state of euphoria, Eddie felt anxiety knocking on the door of his consciousness.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice shaky and coarse.

He still nudged his head on your neck, in a pathetic attempt to keep his composure. The contact of his dick against the heat between your legs, with only a couple layers of way too thin fabric separating you, was almost too much to handle. His virginity was waiting in the wings.

You laid shamelessly before him. He had never seen anything more alluring.

Your skin was hot, hotter than the devil's house cat. Your legs seemed to have a mind of their own as you clumsily guided his hips to yours, like a magnet. Enough of seeing your hard nipples through every single shirt you wore - you bared them to him now as if they were an offering, his for the taking.

You let out a breathy laugh, light and airy. "Yes. Why? Do I not look okay?" You could easily pull the shirt off your eyes, off your restricted arms, but you remained in the same position he put you in.

"You… you're the most exquisite thing I've ever laid eyes on."

☾

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire

☾

You considered your virginity for a moment - but just a moment. A very unoriginal three-hours-late Valentine's Day present, you bestowed it upon Eddie Munson.

Tenderly, Eddie removed the shirt from your eyes, your arms.

"I'll have to get you some handcuffs for Christmas, huh?" you joked. He didn’t have a reply.

The freedom of your hands led to more sinful acts. You took advantage of finally being able to touch him, yanking his shirt off in one quick motion. The soft smile on his face was irresistible as he tossed his shirt to the floor.

Pressing his bare chest to yours was comforting in a whole new sense - he consumed everything about you. Nervousness and inexperience took over; you were insecure about reaching a hand towards his manhood unprovoked.

Everything was uncoordinated and awkward. Eddie moved off the bed, stretching to grab something from a drawer in his dresser. You heard shuffling and then the foreign sound of music beginning to play from the stereo sitting atop the dresser.

"Springsteen? Really?" you remarked from your place on the bed, now completely naked underneath his quilted blankets.

Eddie scoffed. "It's the radio, thank you very much."

Unbeknownst to you, “I’m On Fire” was something that would grow to haunt the both of you for years. At the time, though, you were only grateful for the music to drown out any of your sounds.

Nerves electric like a live wire, you welcomed him back into the bed, beneath the blankets. He laid beside you for several seconds. You heard the sound of a foil wrapper tearing.

Finally gathering the courage to ask him the most dreaded question, you just needed to know.

"Have you done this before?" you whispered.

His answer was quick, shaky, and brutally honest. "No. But wish me luck, yeah?"

And those were the last words spoken between you that night. Relief washed over you, knowing that you were both equally nervous, equally embarrassed at this point.

Eddie returned to you, chest to chest, and he rested one forearm behind your head for support. You weren't sure when he removed his boxers, but you could feel that he was naked now, braced right at your entrance. The warmth of his most private areas against yours made you feel less vulnerable.

Which made you pull his face down to you, kissing his cheek. You kissed his jaw, his lips, his eyelids, running a hand through his brown hair. It tangled for a second. His hair was getting so long since you first met him.

…but you were impatient.

You opted to not say the harsh words out loud - let's get this over with - you knew well enough about human anatomy that this would most likely be uncomfortable the first time around.

So you reached between your two bodies and guided him into you. His hips reacted benevolently, pushing forward slowly. Fire erupted into you - quickly, invasive. He emitted a gasp into your shoulder, pausing suddenly, but then he began to move again with a steady pace.

The pain was harsh but finished sooner than you thought, along with Eddie himself.

Why? Does he want his virginity back?

You would never regret it, not even for a second.

☾

Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

☾

(song lyrics credit: "I'm On Fire" by Bruce Springsteen)

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

taglist: @siriuslysmoking@emesis-nemisis@ishouldclean@thegirlblogstuff@insert-geeky-things-here@melonmonstereater@well-be-okay-dear-valentine@mewchiili@maridevial @sp1dyb0y1008 @totallynani @the-historical-biscuit2468 @borhapgirlforlife19 @amandaauroraelli @daggerdear @nvrendfangirl @lausnotverybright @salvinaa @psychotickoda @hiimerinhime @heyyallitsnaomi @trixyvixx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

17 notes · View notes

gigglesis · 6 months

Text

Folded some friends like laundry today, felt good checking that off my impromptu to do list.

#If I go missing just know I probably deserve it #Got my fill of being called mean insane and crazy so I just be good for a moment #This is why I wasnt made a ler fr fr because I would wreak more havoc than I already do #apparently I'm being threatened revenge and to be put in my place?#too bad im invincible #nighty night #💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾#might delete later #this be about tickling

7 notes · View notes

uselessnbee · 5 months

Text

what i wish people would also explore more when it comes to Percy is the other side of his feelings about his mom about family and his childhood but this fandom is too afraid to paint Sally even in the slightest bad light (even if it's not bad just acknowledging her flaws because she's a human being and not perfect) that no one will touch on that subject. like yes Sally is the best mom but she also isn't and that's the thing! She isn't perfect! but she tried her best but her best still got Percy hurt and it isn't her fault at all but that's the tragedy of it. i want Percy's feelings about this explored. how he grew up with a loving mom but an abusive step father. how his step father would humiliate him and call him stupid but then his mom soothed him and told him he's not the things Gabe calls him. how Gabe would hurt him and Sally would be there to make him happy and loved but at the same time she stayed with him. i want Percy's feelings explored about how he knows his mother loves him but her absence still hurt him. she would work so much to have money to raise him she did that for him but at the same time it meant Percy was left alone or with Gabe. Sally gave up so much for him, she sent him away to protect him but at the same time he was sent away from his mom. she's the only parent he has because his father is absent and Gabe is not actually a parental figure at all but she's also often absent in his life too and that must have left him with such mixed feelings because it's not all black and white! Sally's love protected him but also hurt him. Percy loves his mom so so so much but there's also this deep-seated bitterness and hurt and anger he never let himself feel and then the guilt for having those feelings because his mom loves him he knows that and she gave up so much for him and she married a monster that abused her to protect him, he knows that but it doesn't make it hurt any less. the mess his emotions are because he knows his mom suffered for him and did it from her love for him but he still desperately wishes she never married that monster that he wouldn't have to have the childhood he had with him that he wouldn't have to live with the trauma he was left with. this all is exactly what makes their relationship so fascinating and also heartbreaking.

or the idea of Percy having weird mixed feelings after Estelle is born because that's his little sister and he loves her with his whole heart and would do anything for her and wants only the best for her but there's also this little jealous monster deep down that wonders why she gets to have a loving mom and a loving dad and a happy normal life but he never got that. why does she deserve it but not him? why couldn't he have that too? doesn't he deserve that too? he was just a child too so why why why??? and then the guilt of feeling that way too it makes me want to scream. emotions are fucking messy and they can be really ugly and they can make you hate yourself and there's no way Percy's feelings aren't a mess when it comes to this and i want to see it explored so badly!

and with Sally too! her feelings about Percy because she did so much and tried her best but sometimes unfortunately your best isn't good enough and it still got her beloved son hurt and she hates it and feels so guilty but she just has to live with that but she can't help to wish it was different. that their lives would be different. better. normal. she can't help but to wish she didn't have to do the things she's done, didn't have to suffer so much just to protect her child. can't help to wish she didn't have to worry so much, didn't have to be so scared about Percy, didn't have to be terrified that one day he won't come back home to her, that she won't be able to hold her son anymore because he will be gone, she just wishes he didn't have to suffer so much, she just wishes and wishes and wishes

and i just wish people weren't so afraid to explore this because it's so heartwrenching and yes if you want something do it yourself but unfortunately i cannot write nor am i able to handle this topic in a way it deserves so i am left only with rambling about it on here thank you

#i am not trying to victim blame or anything i love Sally and she did her best and didn't deserve any of the crap life gave her #but there's just something so tragic about the fact that she married a vile man and suffered abuse to protect her son #just for her decision to hurt him anyways just in a different way but the only other option would probably be Percy ending up dead #so she can't really truly regret it but she just wishes those weren't their only options #that she didn't have to do this just so that her child could stay alive #thinking about it makes me go feral #they had no choice but to suffer there was no way for their lives to be without this much hurt and trauma and it's terrible #and they didn't deserve it but there was so much love too #but the horrible thing is that that love just wasn't enough to save them from all that pain and i need to be sedated bye #percy jackson #sally jackson #pjo #hoo #percy and sally #percy jackon and the olympians #whatever you do don't think about a six years old lonely Percy sitting in a corner waiting for his mom to come back home from work #and he knows she loves him but he misses her so much when she spends so much time in work and that hurts #don't think about a ten years old Percy being sent away to a boarding school and he knows his mom loves him #but what if she's sending him away because he's just too much? or not enough? and what if she doesn't want him anymore?#and he knows that's not true but what if?#i'm thinking it #okay i think that's enough

100 notes · View notes

bonefall · 9 months

Note

Did you man beam Drizzle? If so, why not just pair up Rustle with Cranberry instead? I get for the amazing ship name but I'm curious about the choice /gen

I totally forgot Drizzle's original gender, but also, I really don't want to overthink it. I'm so tired of overthinking it. I wanted CranberryDrizzle funny ship name and it was getting exhausting to plan out where every pairing in several hundred cats would be getting their kits from

Rustle is going to die at some point after having two QR kittens, and Cranberrydrizzle is going to have 2 important litters (Sunstrike and Emberfoot in the first, Fernstripe in the second). I have done an exhausting amount of work (weeks of planning and hours of work at a time, scouring the wiki and facebook screenshots, redrawing tangles, reading through suggestions, writing out full posts of changes and creating new groups with their own histories) untangling broken fragments of family trees and like... I'm tired. No more shuffling. I deserve Funny Ship Name. is this too much to ask

Boy Drizzle is just the easiest answer. I'd like for Drizzle to just be transfem but I was also told to avoid cats being trans just to have kits, which is ALSO frustrating me at this point, I don't like this weight of "perfect representation" that's being put on me when I'M not even perfect representation as a living human queer.

Do I let Drizzle be transfem and "break a rule," or change them to a boy and "lose" a lesbian pairing? It feels gross to me to have fallen into a mindset where I'm treating queer relationships like quotas or rigid rulesets

I feel like if I 'get something wrong' (like forget the gender of a Missing Kit or a side character, or handwave 'where did these kits come from' with 'trans/queen's rights' without considering a real secret surrogate) I'm going to get smacked upside the head and be forced to hyperfocus on one small part of a massive project when I already have a million other things to work on.

So unfortunately the most honest answer I can probably give is that im tired. I'm really tired. Overthinking minor details before making every single tumblr post is draining me. I forgot the missing kit's original author-assigned gender and didn't scroll to the bottom of Onestar's wiki page to check it before posting. I like the ship name. Cranberrysplash somehow gets pregnant twice, but I was told to avoid trans bioparents, yet doing that is making things even harder after I had to do weeks of work to make a good tree in the first place

I'll figure out Drizzlefall's gender when they become relevant in some context

#i dont want cranberryrustle i want cranberrydrizzle #for my own sanity I am probably going to start straightup deleting asks and replies about accidental misgenderings of missing kits #i cannot keep the gender and names of 600+ characters straight 100% of the time #Especially when they were only named in authorial statements #i deserve funny ship name. i just. i deserve funny ship name #do i not bleed enough to deserve funny ship name #i don't think I can work with this ''minimize trans bioparents'' rule. It's done nothing but cause me frustration and make burnout set in #redtail is a man and he gave birth. get over it. im sick of feeling guilty over my own hobby project #for characters like sedge where it's a plot point it will stay but I CANT keep working with it in mind #Hazeltail is unkilled. She is trans. She is taking Mousewhisker's place in ThunderClan so he can go to riverclan #If canon gives mouse kittens then they will be hazeltail's. trans people fuck and have kids. deal with it #and you know what? in a world with countries that will fucking sterilize you if you want to legally transition #maybe it *should* be more normalized.#tw transphobia #btw anon it's clear you're being genuine so im not mad at you #vent a long time coming I think #bone babble

61 notes · View notes