#having to deal with self-sabotage is never easy

[keeksandgigz]

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

[theanimeroom]

Tbh I think that Barou, who literally forces himself to train every day with both a conditioning drill and a technique drill (multiple I think? Idk) would be able to last the month if you tried teasing him

BUT BAROU LOSING WITHOUT ANY (intentional) TEASING BC HIS ASS IS JUST SO WHIPPED???? Idk actually. Thoughts?

HMMMMM SO MANY THOUGHTS HOLD ON

NFSW UNDER THE CUT | MINORS DNI

DECEMBER 1ST, 2023 - 3:17PM

NNN CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

if there's one thing about barou shouei, it's that this man's self-control is impeccable. he was a man of great mental and physical strength, and if there was one thing that he would never let himself do, it's lose. it didn't matter what situation was at hand, he was going to come out on top, no matter what.

getting through the challenge was rather easy for the man, mostly because you were a copy and paste of him. that was his favorite thing about you, knowing that you seemingly shared the shame brain and therefore had many of the same thought processes.

the moment you found out that barou had been roped into no nut november, you knew that you would be participating also. the two of you were a package deal, so if he was going to suffer through the month, then you would be good and restrain yourself.

now, you weren't exactly like your boyfriend, so when the tension started to build up in you, it was a bit harder for you to manage. he distracted himself with strenuous workouts and soccer games, but the more he did that, the harder it was for you to control yourself. his body looked like it was sculpted to match that of a greek god, shining in the sunlight as he sprinted shirtless across the soccer fields. how were you supposed to survive that?

despite all of this, you still didn't dare bother your boyfriend, knowing that regardless of whether he won or lost, if you tried to sabotage him there would be dire repercussions because of it.

by the time the last week of november had come around, you had decided to push your limits a bit.

you were sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest as your leg tapped against the floor of the car. your body was nearly buzzing at this point from want, your delicious boyfriend sitting next to you with his hand on your thigh not helping your mindset in the slightest. barou was managing just fine, at least that's how it appeared compared to you.

his eyes remained on the road, one hand grasping the steering wheel while the other was rubbing shapes into your thigh. his thumb was moving dangerously close to the inside of your thigh, the muscle tightening as you tried not to react. when barou still didn't seem to notice, you started to wiggle in your seat in hopes that his hand would slide closer to where you were now aching for him.

your gaze flitted to the side, staring at your boyfriend who was gnawing lightly on the skin of his lower lip, thumb still tracing circular motions on your upper thigh. he didn't look distressed at all, more so eerily calm as your not-so-subtle movements started to catch up to you.

your clothing had been a nuisance to you more than anything else since the knot in your stomach started to make itself known to you, but at the moment, it was giving you a great deal of help. the fabric of your shorts had hit you in the right spot, brushing your sensitive clit in the most delicious way. the moment a heavy sigh slipped past your lips, you could feel the heat coming from the man beside you.

peering back over at him you noticed the way he seemed to be a bit more tense, jaw locked and fingers turning white against the steering wheel. he didn't dare turn his head though, only huffing out a breath as he continued to watch the road ahead of you.

he was aware of what you were doing, but he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of reacting to it. he could easily admit that you held out much longer than he thought you would have, but that doesn't mean that it gives you a free pass to be a brat. he was going to let you do what you wanted, not caring whether you were leaking and creaming in the seat of his car or not. he was going to win the challenge either way, with or without you.

but you just looked so fucking good grinding down in the seat, it had it almost seething when he felt a tent rising in the confines of his jeans. to say he was pissed off was a severe understatement, he'd been doing so well, yet you just had to come around and push his buttons. it was only when your sly fingers wrapped around his wrist, attempting to guide his fingers down to where you were soaking through your underwear that he decided to pull the plug on your little game. unluckily for you, a red light had impeded barou's ability to concentrate, the momentary pause in movement was just enough for the man to turn his head around, snatching his hand from your dirty grasp.

a gasp escaped you when his fingers and thumb pressed roughly into your cheeks, squeezing them together as he forced you to look him in the eye. your gaze was wide as he stared you down, dangerous and filled with something akin to primal lust.

"are you done?" his voice started to hit baritone levels, a curt nod leaving the now angry man humming quietly. the interaction only made you crave him more, your gaze flickering between his eyes and lips in hopes of him giving you what you needed. instead, you whined quietly when barou's fingers loosened their grip, thumb coming around to press at your bottom lip. you didn't think twice before wrapping your lips around the digit, moaning softly when the pad pressed heavily against your tongue. your eyes fluttered closed for a second, but the moment was short-lived as the man focused your attention once more. "good. now, you're going to sit there, and you're not going to move a muscle until we get back home, is that understood?"

when you nodded your head again, he watched you for another few seconds before deciding that you'd understood him well enough, finally letting you go just as the light turned green again.

now, what you did forget, was the fact that once you cross barou shouei, there will be consequences.

"i'm sorry! fuck i'm so sorry!" your voice was raw and cracking under the pressure of your boyfriend, who was using you like a rag doll. your face was pressed into the sheets barely able to breathe as barou shoved you back down, this being the third time you've spoken out of turn since you started.

"didn't i tell you to shut. the fuck. up?" he grunted, punctuating his words with deep thrusts. they didn't aid in his request for silence, but he'd rather hear you crying for him than another apology. "weren't sorry when you were trying to whore yourself out in my passenger seat, now were you?"

knowing better than to leave him without an answer at all, you shook your head into the mattress. a rough smack to your ass left you wailing into the covers, ass red and stinging from the constant abuse barou was inflicting upon it. "this what you wanted? wanted me to split you on my cock princess?"

shaking your head once again in confirmation, there was another sickening slap to your ass before his movements pitched up, hips slamming against your backside as your voice came out in tandem. barou held his balance with one foot against the mattress, the knee on the other leg digging into the space beside yours as you held your pretty little ass in the air for him.

the sight was one to behold, lower lips puckering and begging for his cock to fill it, to breed it. peering down at the way you clenched around him, desperate moans being muffled into the bed as his own grunts started to become more audible.

a rather tight squeeze from your cunt and barou was almost doubling over, balls tightening and bottoming out, stilling as he forced himself not to come in you quite yet.

the raven-haired male leaned down, your back and his front colliding with his heavy breath flowing into your ear. you were damn near brain-dead, moaning softly and pushing back against the male as he moved your damp hair away from your face. you whimpered as his breath fanned against the shell of your ear. "hmm, since we did so good this month... why don't we try to do no nut december also?"

all in all, never participate in no nut november with barou.

don't plagiarize, it's not nice <3

© theanimeroom

#no nut november challenge! #blue lock smut #blue lock #barou smut #barou #barou shouei #barou shouei smut #anime smut #barou x reader #barou shoei x reader #blue lock barou

[mykoreanlove]

You're sick

The number you have dialed is not in service. Please call again later.

What the actual fuck? Jackson took another puff of his cigarette before reaching for his drink again. She blocked me? She fucking blocked me?! He took another sip of the brown liquor, not even feeling the burn in this throat anymore. The only thing he felt was anger. His eyes were glued to the screen, still unable to process what has happened. How could you block me? I’m Jackson Wang from China for fuck’s sake. He took another long sip sadly accepting the fact that even his fame couldn’t guarantee him a shot at love.

You’re sick. Those were your final words to him. He replayed you saying that hundreds of times. You had that painful look in your reddened eyes, tears straining your flushed cheeks, breath stuck in your throat as you let go of him. Jackson spit out the nastiest things as his ego was taking a blow right there. He watched you pack your stuff and leave his apartment, leaving him for good.

At least you didn’t cheat on him. He smirked devilishly thinking that this was some kind of progress since the girl before you fooled him for weeks on end. But if he was honest with himself it didn’t feel like progress at all. It felt like heartbreak, like suffering, like a never-ending loneliness that has crept into his bones. At this point in his life those feelings felt like a part of him. You were right, he thought to himself, I am sick.

Jackson poured himself another glass as he was remembering the first few weeks he shared with you. He liked the excitement of becoming yours - being glued to his phone eagerly anticipating your texts became normal, having someone to share the highs and lows of his days with felt so natural and you giving him all of your attention made him feel so important.

He adored the passion you elicited in him – staying up most nights to explore your body thrilled him, being the one fucking you brainless turned him on endlessly and cuddling you to sleep while stealing sweet kisses made him domestic.

He loved forming a true connection with you - opening up about his struggles was easy since you’ve always been so empathetic, holding you in his arms under the stars while planning the future seemed logical and falling in love was inevitable, especially for someone as love-addicted as Jackson.

This sweet feeling of love took over his whole being which made him noticeably happier. Jackson finally felt like he was appreciated for who he was as a man and not for being an artist. He didn’t even care that he had to slow down his career, so that he could spend more time with you. He didn’t care about music sales, brand deals or future career options – all he cared about was you.

Until he didn’t.

His mind got pestered with doubts, anxiety clouding his every thought. What if this was too good to be true? What if you left him in the end? What if relationships weren’t just his thing? Could he really neglect his career for you? After all, his career would never wake up and abandon him one day…

Jackson felt himself slipping into old patterns. This was no longer the confident man that you fell for but a coward that shied away from love and gave into fear. Unable to stop his inner demons, he gave into them, turning into a self-sabotaging monster once again. Better hurting you than getting hurt himself, right?

He gulped down the remains of the liquor and let out a desperate sigh. Why did I do this? Why am I so stupid? He ran his hand through his blonde hair, tugging on it as if self-harm would ease his self-inflected pain. He thought about the downfall of your relationship: Joyful calls turned into silence, sweet acts of love turned into egocentric ignorance and soulful connection turned into manipulation. This was no longer a blooming relationship; this was him having his way with you. He controlled you by giving you love if he needed it and tossed you aside if you came too close to him. Jackson often wondered how long you’d play this game with him, how much it took to break you. Turns out that fucking his dancer in front of you did the trick. Crying and arguing got replaced with your silence – this was you being done with him. This was him being left with his sickness – once again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7fanfic #kpop smut #jackson wang #got7 x reader #got7 imagines #jackson wang smut #jackson wang imagines #jackson wang scenarios #jackson wang x reader #creative writing #got7 jackson #team wang #mykoreanlove #jackson wang fluff #jackson wang icons #got7 smut #got7smut #jackson x reader

[milkywaydrabbles]

Prompt 4 with Alucard. 🥺🥺🥺 i want him to relax in my arms

A/N: Sweet boy deserves everything good in this world cries ;; I hope you like this drabble, mwuaahhh

"I just want you to relax in my arms" x Alucard

“Sweetheart? What are you doing out here?” Alucard turned to fully face you, standing there with furrowed brows and concern written all on your face. “I’m here to get you. You’ve been at this for hours, Adrian.” The task in question was simply chopping wood in preparation for the winter. You’re right, he has been doing this for a few hours. But it’s so easy for him! He’s practically ripping through the logs (after he’s cut down the trees, stripped them of their branches, cut them into shorter lengths...) It wasn’t a big deal, he was simply doing his part for the village. The dhampir smoothed his hair away from his face and laid down the last (for now) log before heading over to you. “Has it already been that long? Hm...guess I’ve lost track of time.” Your hand reached over to cup his cheek, which he happily nuzzled into. He turned, to kiss your palm as you continued to huff over him. “You’ve done more than enough for today, pretty boy.” You teased, hand dropping to his and tugging lightly. “Now come inside, you’re covered in moss and dirt.”

-

After his much needed bath, and a delicious dinner, Alucard laid between your legs on the sofa, reading some book or other about physiology to continue in his mother’s footsteps of modern science and medicine. You, on the other hand, only ran your fingers through his hair, tenderly scratching at his scalp. The night was young, and yet this is all you wanted to do for the rest of it. Just have the love of your life in your arms, thinking of nothing and no one else, like nothing else mattered. Well, in your eyes, nothing else did matter. Adrian was your everything, and you poured your love into everything you did for him, in hopes he never forgot. 

Loving him was easy, and so worth it. The beginning was difficult for him, he couldn’t fathom having someone truly loving him like you do, not asking anything in return. You just poured your all into him, helping him grow, helping him heal. "Why are you with me?” He used to ask you. And you’d smile, cock your head to the side, and always reply with the same: “Because I love you more than life itself. And loving you is easy. This is exactly where I want to be.” You’d normally stun him so much for Adrian to even rebuttal. Other nights, when he’d wake you out of your sleep from his night terrors, hyperventilating and breaking into cold sweats, he’d push again. Almost as if wanting to self sabotage, because he couldn’t have someone as sweet as you in his life. “Why are you with me?” He’d start, panicked. “Because--” “No, why are you with me? Why do you love me? How could you love a monster like me?” 

Those nights...they were difficult. Not because it was difficult loving him on those nights. But because you couldn’t possibly convey into words why you loved him so much. Loving him felt like fire, crackling in the hearth. It felt like a much needed rainstorm, dousing the lands and finally ending a drought. Loving him felt like electricity buzzing through your bones, sparks flying from your fingertips every time you touched him. 

Loving him felt like everything good you could ever think of. 

So you used to tell him so. “You feel like home.”

And that was enough for him.

Alucard started to get up from his comfortable position before you held him back. “Where are you going, love?” you whispered, kissing the crown of his head. He sighed, nuzzling back into your chest, “I need to do my rounds in the village, sweetheart.”

“Why don’t you just stay tonight?” 

He paused.

“You’re not the only one going on rounds. You don’t need to do it tonight. Please? Just once.” 

He chuckled, looking up at you. “What’s gotten into you today?”

You smiled, kissing his forehead.

“I just want you to relax in my arms.” 

Because he deserved it. Because he deserved all the love in the world.

Because he was your home.

#milk writes #alucard #adrian tepes #alucard x reader #castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017) #milk flufftober

[caapsiizzereads]

I lvoe how a majority of the jamie tartt fic readers/writers are swifties, so i was wondering if you wanted to write a fic based on labyrinth? One of them has a tumultuous relationship with romance and doesn’t know how to react to a good partner and the possibility of falling in love again but ultimately ending up embracing it. Love your fics!

I ALWAYS want to write a fic based on a Taylor song. This one is for all of my self-sabotaging girlies. Also, anon, congrats and thank you for being my first request! Hope you like this🫶

You never bring the guys that you’re dating to your friend gatherings, but this is a special occasion. It’s your best friend’s boyfriend’s birthday this weekend, and he’s a huge Richmond fan, and you know you will get some major brownie points if you bring Jamie with you. Well, also, Erin insisted that you have to bring him “while he’s still here.”

God, this is embarrassing. You and Jamie met less than a month ago and have only been on a few dates.

“…You totally don’t have to–”

“No, no, sure! I’ll come! I love meeting fans,” he grins cockily.

“I regret this already,” you sigh.

—

“He seems nice,” Erin says when you get the chance to talk alone.

You shrug. “I guess he is.”

Jamie meets your eyes across the room and smiles at you.

“I think he really likes you,” she gives you a suggestive look.

You roll your eyes. “We’ve been, like, on three dates.”

“It leaves him with what, two more?” she jokes. She knows how it goes for you. You go out with a guy a few times, have a good time, and then dump him before it can turn into something else.

—

You’re on your way from the party when you notice Jamie sparing you careful glances, like he has something on his mind but second-guesses saying it.

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to Matt, and he, uh, mentioned a guy named Owen,” he starts cautiously. You sigh loudly. “You can totally tell me to fuck off, it’s none of my business…”

“It’s fine. You can ask if you want. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything.”

“So, what’s the story there?”

“We met when I was in my third year of uni, two years later, we got married, lived supposedly happily for three more years, until he cheated on me.” You say it all so casually, like you’re just reciting some story you’ve told many times before. “And then had the fucking audacity to say that I had changed too much. But what really happened was that I was making more money than him, and he couldn’t fucking deal with it.” Okay, now you sound petty. “Anyways, fuck him.” The resentful tone of your voice lets Jamie know that this was as much as you are willing to talk about it. You leave out the part where you really loved the guy, and you haven’t been in even a remotely committed relationship ever since.

—

You don’t really care much about Jamie knowing about your shitshow of a marriage, it’s not like it matters anyway. If anything, maybe he won’t be as surprised or disappointed when you inevitably cut him off. You like him: he’s cute, he’s funny, he’s pretty, and you enjoy your time together. You’ve never had any complaints about the quality of the time that you provide for your dates either, so by the end of the day, it’s a fair trade.

Except that Jamie doesn’t seem to get the hint at all. He keeps asking you out and somehow every time manages to make you say yes. He keeps finding new ways to make you laugh, keeps remembering all the little things he gets to learn about you, keeps finding his way into your embrace. It’s so easy to be around Jamie that your attempts to say no become more and more inauthentic.

So here you are, coming back from your seventh date in as many weeks. That’s the record amount of time you’ve kept a guy around in the past two years.

“The weather is nice, let’s take a walk,” you mock. “Let’s take a walk my ass!” You’re grumbling as you and Jamie make it inside your house soaking wet from the pouring rain outside.

“How was I supposed to know?!” He tries to defend himself.

“By the sound of the fucking thunder!” You throw a towel at him.

“I thought we were gonna make it in time!” He takes off his sweatshirt and starts drying himself. “You could’ve talked me out of it!”

“Oh, so that’s my fault?” You’re not really that mad, more like just annoyed, but if Jamie wants to argue, you can argue. He’s grinning at you. “The fuck are you smiling about?”

“I’m sorry!” He raises his hands defensively. “But you’re, like, really hot when you’re mad.”

This fucker. And he’s standing there half naked and wet. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying this.” You close the distance between you and smash your lips on his.

You keep pushing him backwards until his knees meet the bed and he plops down on it, looking up at you with his eyes dazed. You take a second to appreciate the view, and it gives you this weird feeling inside.

Uh-oh, you’re fallin' in love

—

It’s all fine, all good. You have it under control. You are not catching feelings for Jamie Tartt.

Even when you do, and it scares the shit out of you.

Jamie has been a constant presence in your life for almost three months now. And he’s always so patient, and considerate, and attentive. He starts asking you more questions, wants to really get to know you, emotional baggage and everything, and it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. He never asks of you anything more than you can give, never makes you feel like you’re too much or not enough.

You’re lying on your couch with Jamie on top of you, slotted between your legs with his head on your chest. You’re absent-mindedly running your fingers through his hair while you’re watching a movie. Predictably, forty minutes into the movie, he’s dead asleep. You know that he’s been very tired this season, with all the travel and extra matches and practices that playing in the Champions League requires. Honestly, you were surprised that he can make as much time for you as he does, considering all of that.

You let him stay like this, trying not to move your body too much, until the end credits roll and half of your body goes numb. You gently shake him awake, and he looks adorably sleepish. You tell him that you should move it to bed because it’s late anyway. He furrows his brows for a moment in surprise. He’s never stayed over like this before, only if you were having sex. He’s definitely not going to complain, though. He makes his way to your bedroom, and by the time you’re out of the shower, he’s already asleep again. Or at least half-asleep, because when you get in bed next to him, he still snuggles closer to you.

You lie awake for another hour.

In the morning, you wake up first and, quickly disentangling yourself from Jamie, get out of bed.

Jamie notices that you’re acting weird: your smile is tense and you keep looking away, but he doesn’t comment on it. Eventually, he gives you a goodbye kiss and leaves for practice. The moment you close the door behind him and he’s a safe distance away, you let out a loud groan.

Oh no, you’re fallin' in love again

—

You’ve been ignoring Jamie’s calls for two weeks now. There hasn’t been a single one in two days, though, so maybe he just finally gave up. You can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, but what right do you have? It was your choice. You’ve been wrapped in your cynicism for so long that you no longer know how to just let yourself be happy again. You tell yourself that you’re better off, and probably so is Jamie.

Your doorbell rings, and when you open the door, you don't know whether you’re relieved or uneasy to see Jamie standing at your doorstep.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You don’t pick up your phone.”

“Yeah, I…” You don’t actually have any logical explanation for yourself.

“You don’t need to explain.” He collects himself. “I’ve been trying to give you space. But I think it’s becoming too much space for me.”

“Jamie–“

“No, wait. Let me say something. And if you still want me to leave, then I will.” The remorseful look on your face was probably enough of a giveaway of what you were about to say. Well, here goes nothing. You nod at him to continue. “I am in love with you. And I don’t care that you think you’re a mess or whatever. I mean, so am I, but you don’t seem to mind either. You’re fucking amazing. And I will tell you that every day, if you want. No, I will tell you that every day, whether you want it or not. Just let me stay.”

The following silent seconds might be the longest in Jamie’s life, but then you pull him in and kiss him breathless, and it was absolutely worth the wait.

You’ve been lying awake for a few minutes now, thinking back to the previous night. You’re facing away from Jamie, but chances are he’s still asleep, you still have time to flee. You don’t want to, though.

As if reading your thoughts, Jamie speaks up. “I know you’re awake.” Here goes your escape plan. He softly runs his fingers along your back. “Stay with me.” He places a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him. You’ve seen Jamie in the morning many times, but it was never like this. He’s never looked so vulnerable and unsure. You don’t want him to look like this. You gently brush your fingers against his cheek, and he leans into your hand before taking it in his and kissing your knuckles.

It’s been so long since you’ve really felt something for the person next to you, since you’ve let yourself feel something for the person next to you. You forgot how nice it is, how good it feels. That it doesn’t always have to end in hurt. Maybe if Jamie can offer you his heart like this, then you can trust him with yours too. You want to. This realization feels like letting out a breath you have been holding for years.

“Where would I go? We’re in my bed,” you smile, and Jamie huffs a laugh of relief. Alright, then, let’s give it a shot. You lean in and kiss him.

Oh, you’re fallin' in love

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fic

[suneeater]

jealousy

feat. simeon, diavolo

✎a/n: diavolo is shockingly easy to write for? very happy to finally have an entry for him on the masterlist aaaa

✰warnings: none enjoy!

✉: that jealousy post mentioning simeon and diavolo 👀 now im curious.

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧

Simeon is the quiet jealous type. Out of all of the Obey Me characters, he has the strongest moral compass and in turn, the strongest guilty conscience. He can’t stand being jealous; he doesn’t know how to handle the mixed feeling of anger and insecurity, and to act out based on his own unpleasant emotions would be so very un-angel-like of him

So when he’s jealous, Simeon can sometimes retreat into himself and bottle it up. He doesn’t tend to do this in other situations, so it’s pretty noticeable when he’s jealous. He is a lot less talkative, less affectionate, and clearly trying to work through something internally

It never works though – everything has to come out eventually, whether for better or worse. Simeon almost becomes a little bit petty after holding in his jealousy for a while, especially if the situation is ongoing. If there is someone in your life consistently taking your attention away from him and threatening his status as your one and only, then there is going to be a price to pay. While he is able to carry on and smile to this person’s face, he is quietly sabotaging them in subtle ways

In moments where he doesn’t know how to restrain himself any longer, Simeon tries to snatch you away so that he can save face, and also his pride. The moment that he can see that someone is clearly bothering you or has overstayed their welcome, he’s whisking you away to safety without a moment’s notice. Since he’s so well composed, you often can’t even tell that he isn’t being genuine when you takes your wrist to lead you to something he is just dying to show you

When in the moment, you can tell Simeon is jealous by the way he suddenly becomes jittery and eager to leave the scene with you. His smile falters, and his expression turns, and he can’t seem to keep both feet still. He can’t take his eyes off you, either, and it’s almost as if it’s taking every but of his inner strength to keep from pulling you close to him

These are more subtle movements that allow him to remain composed to the public, but knowing Simeon so intimately, it’s clear to see that something is up. He’s prideful though, and embarrassed, so it takes a great deal of coaxing from him to ever admit that he was jealous. The way he sees things, if he is really secure in your relationship then he should have no reason to worry, and he never wants to blame you, so it’s a feeling that he shoves deep inside. No matter what his consciousness tells him though, he can’t but feel envious when he sees other people stealing your time and attention

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨

Diavolo is by far the most straightforward in his jealousy. Unlike Simeon, Diavolo is more confident in his feelings and can pinpoint his exact emotions without much deliberation. He’s completely willing to admit to you when he is jealous; not only does he have nothing to hide, but he wants to communicate with you and prevent things like this from happening again. Come on, you don’t want him to be stuck feeling so jealous and helpless, right?

He’s the demon prince, so he’s fully expected to remain collected and composed in almost every imaginable situation. It is very rare for Diavolo to lose his temper, and it’s something you may very well never see. It’s all a facade, though. While he may be able to continue being his outwardly jovial and expressive self, it doesn’t change how he feels on the inside

Diavolo when jealous is controlling. It’s in his blood to lead and command, and there is hardly any exception. He wants to steer the situation into one that benefits him the most, and he does so with a laugh. He’s fiercely intimidating – he exudes power and dominance, and he’s so confident that you can’t help but believe that there’s no way he won’t come out on top, no matter the situation. To his enemies, his laugh can be terrifying

When he’s jealous, he’s going to tell you straight up. Sometimes it’s verbally, and other times it’s through physical cues. He’ll never ask you to stop doing something or interacting with someone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to stop the other party’s involvement on their end. Intimidation is a breeze for Diavolo; he doesn’t even have to do anything out of pocket or make a threat to leave someone shaking in fear, and my god does he abuse this

Anyone stealing your attention from him can expect Diavolo to join the conversation in seemingly good spirits, only to feel him glaring wide eyed daggers at them for far too long for comfort. It’s crazy how he can convey displeasure through and otherwise lively and full expression

Diavolo communicates his jealousy in the moment to you through physical touches that aren’t out of character for him, but are slightly different enough to let you know something’s up. While gently holding hands, or having his arm wrapped around your waist may look very casual and natural for a couple as established as you are, you can tell from his sudden need to be close to you that he’s feeling envious

find the same scenario for:

solomon

#obey me x reader #simeon obey me #diavolo obey me #diavolo x reader #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #diavolo x mc #simeon hc #diavolo hc #simeon x yn #simeon x you #diavolo x yn #diavolo x you #jo #suneeater

[avidreadersandemergingwriters]

Creating in Spite of Self-Doubt

It’s the saboteur within and it can torpedo our dreams.

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Every writer I know, including myself, has anxiety and self-doubt about their creative efforts. When I went into it further, I found that it’s the curse of the creative classes.

The Gifts of Creative People

Creative people see possibilities, value complexity and have the gift of innovation. They can bend their glorious imaginations to envisioning new things or ideas. Often sitting a little (or a lot) outside of the mainstream, they have a different lens through which they experience the world. At their best, creatives see possibility everywhere and enjoy experimenting with concepts and perspectives. What they love most is bringing those ideas into form, whether it’s a book, a painting, a poem or an entrepreneurial venture.

The downside? The gift of a rich and profuse imagination holds within it a curse.

Every Creative Person Has Self-Doubt

It takes a big imagination to come up with all the reasons why our work isn’t good enough and why it shouldn’t be released into the world. Some common themes run through all self-doubt scenarios:

1.     Confusing the value of our contribution and our infinite self-worth as a person.

Overidentifying with how an idea or creation might be received can cause us to supress the creation for fear of judgement, criticism or ridicule.

2.     Interpreting any feedback as criticism.

To avoid any possible negative feedback, we get to the final stage of bringing something to life and then hide or quit.

3.     We feel defeated when our creations don’t match our visions.

No matter how bright and sparkly our ideas are as they frolic in our brains, bringing them into form irrevocably changes them. It’s easy to feel frustrated and deflated when our creations don’t fulfill our visions.

4.     Comparing ourselves to others

It’s oh-so-easy to slide into idealizing the lives of others doing what we want to do and tip over into comparison, envy and resentment. Feeling like a loser is very common. At times we feel like our noses are pressed up against the window with the desired object forever out of reach.

Sneaky Ways Self-Doubt Sabotages Us.

1.     We find safety in the possibility of creating without actually delivering.

It’s known as Shiny Object Syndrome. We feel overwhelmed with ideas; find it impossible to choose, bouncing from project to project never completing anything. This leads to invidious comparisons with our original vision and the output of others.

2.     We juggle too many projects at once.

In the vain attempt to act on multiple ideas at once, we fail to align our projects with our desired outcomes. We dissipate our energy across too many projects. The result is we wear ourselves out before anything is completed. Therefore, we save ourselves from having to release anything out into the cruel world. You are likely to feel depleted when there isn’t a clear alignment to what you really want. Honouring the ebb and flow of our personal energy is a big deal for creatives.

3.     Our Inner Critic runs amok.

This is the helpful little voice we hear that tells us nothing we produce is good enough. This voice is a complete jerk.

It is scornful.  “Who are you to thrust such paltry ideas on an unsuspecting public?”

It mentions (often) our terrible limitations, our hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right. If we let it, it can bring us to our knees.

4.     Falling for the carrot on the stick.

We find ourselves saying things like, “If I ever get ______, then I’ll____________. E.g. “If I ever get published, then I’ll call myself a writer.” “If my painting is accepted by this gallery, then I’ll call myself a painter.” “If my business hits a million dollars in sales, then I’ll feel I’ve made it.”

“But until that day, you’d jolly well better not call yourself a _______,” says the Inner Critic.

The Bad News

Self-doubt never goes away. It rises and recedes and sometimes lies dormant for blissful periods of time. But it always comes back! Nothing we ever gain or accomplish will erase that doubt entirely. It goes back to the same brain that can imagine wonderful creations can also imagine why they can and have gone wrong.

But when self-doubt has our confidence swirling down the drain, we can be prepared.

Defences Against Self-Doubt

 Sas Petherick, Self-doubt Researcher + Coach + Podcaster suggests, “Go on a comparison diet and remove any people or apps that become your default shadow comfort when you get stuck.” She also offers the following practices:

Start a 30-day project and do something easy and creative each day, just for fun.

Begin a conversation with your inner-creator - the part of you that leads from curiosity, innovation and inspiration. What does your creator-self want for you?

Explore the question, “What does being ‘creatively courageous’ mean to you? In what ways do you wish you were more courageous?”

To her sage advice, I would add:

Accept you’re going to have self-doubt. 

You’re never going to get rid of it completely. That doesn’t make you damaged or peculiar or deficient. You have self-doubt because you a creative person.

Accept the self-doubt and decide to create it anyway. Don’t listen to the doubt that tells you to quit.

Accept that not everyone is going to love your work

Criticism is just someone else’s opinion. Even people who are experts in their fields are sometimes wrong. It is up to you to choose whether to believe some of it, none of it, or all of it. Their criticism (or what you interpret as criticism) is only about the creative output. It has nothing to do with your worth as a person.

The hard truth is that we never really know what someone else is thinking nor can we control it. It’s what you think that counts.

Give yourself permission ‘fail forward’. 

Yes, this means what you create may be “all wrong.” Learn from it.

If you keep going, you will improve—even when creating crap. Tell yourself, “It’s okay if I suck right now. I will figure it out and it will get better.”

Stand up to your Inner Critic.

You don’t need to pay attention to the insidious voice within you that creates pain, or makes you feel less competent, smart or able.

Just because the Critic tells you something that does not make it true.

Look for three things that make what the Critic is saying false. Give your Critic a name. This immediately distances the Critic from “me”. So, for example, my Inner Critic is called Delilah. This helps me to see her pronouncements as an external point of view and not as true statements.

Write Your Manifesto

This is a declaration of your promise to honour your creativity and to engage in it no matter what. Make a fancy poster, print it off and stick it up where you can see it while you work

It might look something like this:

·      I will _______ when I don’t feel like it.

·      I will _______ when it hurts.

·      I believe I can ________, even if I don’t always get it right.

·      People want to ______ what I create. I know because I want to _________ it, too.

·      It’s okay if I fail right now. I will figure it out and get better.

·      I will not stop _________.

If you hang on to these four steps, you’ll make it through.

Believe in your ability to create.

Believe that being a creator is worth the fight.

Know the episode of doubt will pass, and it will also return. Doesn’t mean you have to let it win.

Do NOT listen to the doubt and stop creating. Creating garbage is far, far better than not creating at all; bad practice is better than no practice.

 REMEMBER: When we try we might fail, when we succumb to self-doubt, we doom ourselves to failure.

#writing #amwriting #writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers and poets #creative inspiration #creative writing #creativity #writing inspiration #inspiration

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 ║ Chapter 11 - And When Her Halo Broke, She Carved the Two Halves into Horns

| ENDLESS NIGHT | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader, Ellie Williams x platonic!fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 6.7k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: sensitive material warning (marked with banner)

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: You and Joel are more alike than either of you might even know, but you know enough to be sure it’s not a connection you’re willing to give up on easily. Joel makes a concerted effort to make amends, and you have to decide if you’ll let him.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ "𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚢𝚊𝚠𝚙 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍." ─ Wᴀʟᴛ Wʜɪᴛᴍᴀɴ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

Joel wasn’t sure how to make amends. The two of you were lost in this strange liminal space where you were gracious enough to let him help you in the few ways that he could. He’d apologized, sure, but it wasn’t outside of whatever whirlwind you were in the midst of. His sorries didn’t feel like they counted, and he knew it was because they didn’t. Not yet. He needed to think of something to say, some way to express how much of an idiot he was. Something for you to continue letting him take care of you in some small way.

He stilled for a moment when your face scrunched and crumpled. A small whine left your lips. He pulled you in closer to him. He breathed in your scent and told himself it was just to comfort you and not just an excuse for his self-satisfaction to indulge in you being so close. He’d rarely had moments where he could be so still with you. Where he could take you in, take care of you, hold you. Your expression smoothed out as you settled into a peaceful slumber again.

If he messed this up, there would be no other chances. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to earn another one from you after he’d acted so awful. Maybe no other choice when you were drowning and needed a hand to keep you above the waves. The moment you weren’t gasping for a breath of reprieve from the things haunting you, that was it. He wouldn’t have an excuse to hold you. He wouldn’t have a reason to seek you out and whisper sweet things to you. You wouldn’t need him. You hadn’t ever needed him. A small part of you might want him, but you didn’t need him. He tried to shake the truth that more often than not he was feeling that he needed you.

If he ruined this with you… he could already feel his chest caving in at the thought. He didn’t know why he self-sabotaged things that he wanted so badly. Some form of survival and preservation of himself: you can’t lose what you don’t have.

And outside of himself there was Ellie to think about. She’d grown attached to you because of course she had. How could she not? You had done nothing except be kind and helpful – and overbearing – ever since they’d arrived. You and Ellie chatting mindlessly was something he could listen to until the sun burned out. The way you drew easy conversation from someone as wounded and scared as Ellie, despite the tough front she put up, was enough to make you special. But of course, there was so much more to you. There always was, he was coming to learn. He’d time and again never given you the credit you deserved.

You were easy to talk to whenever you weren’t at each other’s throats. The more Joel had sat with it, the more he realized that what drove him up the wall with you was how similar the two of you were. You handled things in different ways, yes, but at your core there was that bit of ego and overprotective nature, the kind that riddled you with regret and grief when you failed. Especially when you failed someone you loved. He’d done a shit job for decades at dealing with his own grief.

Ellie had helped in ways he would never stop being grateful for. A tinge of embarrassment clouded Joel’s cheeks when he thought just for a moment if it would be possible that he could be that for you, be the person who cuts through it all and gives you a place to rest your sorrow until you’re strength comes back and you’re ready to pick it up and carry it again.

Joel didn’t know how to do that, though. He was quick to anger, something he was afraid would never change, and he was awful at communicating anything beyond impersonal snippets. He needed to show you, somehow, that he meant it. He meant it when he said he cared for you. He meant it when he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. He meant it when he said he’s got you.

Joel tilts his head down to watch you as you sleep. You’re curled into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if you can’t get close enough. Your brow furrows at the same time your fists clench tighter around the fabric. You mutter something in your sleep. It sounds pointed even through the slur of unconsciousness.

He presses small kisses against your forehead, and it soothes you back into a restful state. You’ve been asleep for hours. Joel feels fairly certain you’d sleep for many more if he let you. He extricates himself from your hold and walks stiffly to the kitchen. Remaining unmoved for so many consecutive hours had done a number on his joints.

He checks the clock on your stove to confirm what he already suspected. You’ve been asleep for quite a while - just under six hours. The bag of tea he’d hastily grabbed at the shop lay lopsided on the counter where he’d lobbed it earlier. He can’t remember what Will had said was in it or how he was supposed to prepare it. At the time he was distracted with thoughts of finding you and making sure you weren’t thinking of doing something stupid.

A light knock on the door pulled him from his musings. He hurried up the hallway and opened the front door.

“Joel? What the fuck are you doing here?” Ellie laughs under her breath.

Joel shushes her and pulls her inside. He closed the door and jerked his head towards the sealed double doors leading to where you’re still fast asleep, or so he hopes.

“She’s sleepin’, so keep it down, will ya?” he huffs under his breath.

Ellie’s curious expression morphs into a smug, giddy grin. The sides of her cheeks are pulled in between her back teeth as she does a poor job of hiding her gloating smile. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mutters as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

Ellie follows in step, her expression never wavering. “So, you finally fixing whatever weird shit you did to fuck up the friendship you had going?” Her exaggerated tone on the word “friendship” was impossible to miss.

“I’m tryna make sure she’s alright,” he defends himself stiffly.

Ellie smirks and sways on the spot, her energy palpable at Joel’s obvious self-consciousness.

“Hm, that’s real nice of you, Joel. Didn’t know you were such a softie,” she needles. 

Joel levels an exasperated scowl in her direction as he tries to put together what he needs to make you some tea. He grumbles under his breath, expressing his distaste of Ellie’s teasing.

“So, is she alright?” Her tone wavers into something more serious for a moment before she shifts into the safer territory of sarcasm. “Doing better now that you’re here?” She waggles her eyebrows theatrically at him.

Joel ignores the attempts to deflect the extent of her concern with detached humor. It’s something he’s all too familiar with and has been trying to do better about.

“She’ll be alright. We just gotta keep tryna help her where we can,” he says thoughtfully. Ellie nods and averts her gaze. “I think m’gonna stay here with her for a little longer if that’s alright with you?”

Ellie shrugs as though she expected no different. “Yeah, of course. I can keep myself out of trouble for a few hours.” She traipses through the kitchen, heading towards the front door. “At least I think I can. No promises, though,” she adds with a childish giggle.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mutters with a smile tugging at his lips.

He starts the water in the kettle you already have on the stove and walks Ellie out. She gives a short wave and glances at the window where your bed lies beyond the panes. She turns without another word and heads home.

The kettle is slowly coming to a boil in the kitchen while Joel readies a cup and a strainer to separate the tea leaves from the mug. He searches your cabinets, which turn up pitifully empty. He considers for a moment if you might need some things picked up or if you’d let him do that for you. Maybe he could just put Ellie up to it so you wouldn’t argue.

He removes the kettle from the burner and turns it off before the steam can start whistling and wake you. He sets the kettle to the side for a moment while checking if your fridge is in the same state as your cabinets. He doesn’t get very far into his inspection when he hears you stirring from your sleep. He closes the fridge to make it easier to hear, leaning his head the direction of your door.

You sound restless, maybe. Upset? Something not quite as it should be, he can tell that much. He walks towards the hallway leading to your room and hears the unmistakable sound of crying. He pushes the door open and can’t tell if you’re awake or not. By the time he nears the edge of the bed, it’s clear that you’re in the midst of some sort of nightmare.

You’re muttering “don’t look” over and over in the garbled, thick voice of sleep. Joel isn’t sure if you’re talking to yourself or to someone in your dream. Either way, you’re visibly distressed at the turn of events happening in your mind. Joel hears it then. Your sister’s name tumbles with frantic pain from your lips.

Caroline. You’re telling Caroline not to look.

Joel senses he’s failed to deliver on his promise of making sure you slept peacefully, that he’d stay with you and keep you safe - even from your own mind if that’s what you needed. He decides to wake you before he lets you down any further than he already has.

The outline of a middle aged woman and a young girl ebb between silhouette and fleeting focus of features. It was the mother and daughter you and Caroline traveled with for a few months.The dense thicket of trees forms around the four of you. A fire cracks and pops, water making the stones hiss on contact. The conversation slows and turns to getting rest for the long day ahead of you in the morning.

The scene shifts like smoke rising from the extinguished campfire the four of you had sat around hours earlier. Your knife glimmers in a stray line of moonlight as it presses against the young girl’s throat. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I will do this if I have to,” you growl at the mother, shifting your knife slightly.

The girl is crying in your captive hold, shaking and begging you to please not hurt her or her mom. She’s a young teen, but her voice shakes with the fear of a much smaller, helpless child.

“They told me they’d let us go. I’m sorry. They told me all the routes we’ve been taking. They were watching us the past two days. I’m sorry,” the woman sobs.

“Let who go?” you demand.

“Me and Cassie,” she cries, eyes glancing back to your knife at the mention of her daughter’s name.

“If you gave us over to them?” you bark. She nods frantically, begging for you to understand she didn’t have any other choice. She couldn’t surrender her daughter to the horrors that awaited her at the hand of the slavers. She had to make this deal to save her daughter.

It was fucked up, but you understood why she would ultimately choose her daughter. It still wasn’t an excuse for why she’d willingly deliver you and Caroline to the same fate she couldn’t bear to let her daughter endure.

And, worst of all, she didn’t realize that she had been fooled twice over. Fooled into betraying you and Caroline, agreeing to lead you both into the slavers’ trap just a few hours from now. Fooled again for ever thinking they would actually let her and Cassie go after their end of the deal was done. Cassie was far too young and untouched to just let them go without a hitch.

Her desperation to protect her daughter had clouded her judgment. It was a nauseating but brilliant move on the slavers’ part to have her help incapacitate the strongest fighters in the group, which would make easy work of capturing the mother and daughter immediately after you and Caroline were confined. She had sentenced every last one of you to a life of horrors that would make you wish a clicker would just come and put you out of your misery.

You had caught wind of the plan, listening as Cassie absorbed all the hushed, hurried whispers her mother gave once she thought you and Caroline had fallen asleep. But you had stayed up, unable to shake the feeling that there was an unsettling change in the mother. Little motions of extra security, arms around Cassie more than usual, small glances at the edge of the trees as though she was expecting to see someone there waiting in the shadows.

Everyone had their bad days where the stress wore you down a little too much, your nerves frayed and exposed, putting you even more on edge than usual. But this was different. Something wasn’t right. The dread and anguish churned your insides as you eavesdropped. You could hear Cassie’s faltering agreements to stick close to her mother’s side the next morning and to keep her jackknife ready if it needed to be used. Cassie typically kept a small walking stick with her at all times, not often engaging in combat. The three of you instinctively protected her, and she was more helpful during a fight if she could just scramble to safety somewhere until it was over. The dark cloud twists the scene until it morphs into a clearer rendering, a close up of your knife edging into Cassie’s skin.

“We are going our separate ways. Right now,” you growl. “I’m not going to wait around until morning just so you can figure out another way to send us all to our own personal hell.”

You shove Cassie to the ground towards her mother as you dash to Caroline. She looks at you, the question in her eyes you don’t want to answer. A flash of sadness when she understands the conclusion of your silent conversation. A small nod to let you know she’s ready.

You turn to the other pair. Cassie is fumbling with her backpack, shoving as much of her things into it as quickly as she can.

“And one more thing before we go,” you snarl, approaching the mother slowly. Cassie continues frantically packing. “If you had just told us the truth, I could’ve done something to get us out of it. I could’ve figured something out. And, I wouldn’t have to do this right now.”

The mother realizes the meaning in your words mere seconds before your knife is lodged in her windpipe. A hollow scream gurgles from her as you twist the knife and rip it from her bleeding, torn flesh. She grasps helplessly at your feet, trying to stop the inevitable, but you’re already making your way over to her daughter.

Cassie’s head jerks up at the commotion, her face contorting into a silent scream. She stumbles and trips over nothing, her horror propelling her away from the scene of her brutalized mother. You hear Caroline crying somewhere behind you, ransacking the pair’s supplies to take for your own, holding up her part of the silent agreement. You force down the tears welling in your eyes as you reach for your small hatchet.

Cassie had scrambled off the ground, stumbling into a sprint.

“Don’t look, Caroline,” you order in a choke.

You know you don’t have to tell her not to watch. You know she’s already forcing her line of sight away from the evolving bloodbath in front of her. You wish you could do the same. You rear back, launching the hatchet across the opening with precise aim. A dull slogging sound hits the air as the bit of your hatchet lays claim to the flesh between Cassie’s shoulder blades. She slumps instantly to the ground, coughing and writhing, still trying to escape your advancing footsteps.

“Don’t look, Caroline,” you warn again, hot tears escaping.

You bend down and jerk the hatchet from Cassie’s back, refusing to let your mind register the resigned, helpless wail of pain coming from her when you reclaim your weapon from her bungled flesh.

“Don’t look, Caroline,” you cry again, grasping each end of the wooden handle and tucking it under Cassie’s neck.

Caroline’s shaky, sharp inhales and ragged exhales are the background soundtrack to this atrocity. You repeat your warnings to Caroline to please not watch - please not be a witness to what you are having to do in order to save the both of you. Please understand there wasn’t another way to let them go and spare their lives while also keeping your own safe. Cassie hadn’t done anything wrong, but letting her escape and try to survive on her own would just be more cruel than killing her right now.

Your tears fall onto your knee, squarely placed in the wound you just inflicted, as you keep the young girl grounded beneath your weight and pull the handle towards you. Her nails are scratching into your arms as she struggles, stripes of blood starting to pool where she has made enough contact. The clawing finally subsides as Cassie’s body slowly goes limp underneath you.

“Please don’t look, Caroline.”

“Hey.”

“Don’t look. Don’t look.”

“Hey. Wake up, honey.”

“I didn’t want to. I had to. I’m sorry. Don’t look.”

You are awoken to the stern call of your name. Your eyes snap open, adjusting to the low yellow light of the room you’re in. Joel’s face unblurs in front of you. His hands are on either side of your arms, a firm but gentle hold. Your face feels wet and sticky. Joel says your name again softly.

“Hey, right here. I need you to look right here,” he commands softly.

Your adrenaline is shot, a wave of something trying to shut down.

“Look at me,” he instructs, and you comply. The corners of his mouth are firmly downturned. His brow scrunched. His eyes almost look sad. “I don’t know where you jus’ were, but you’re here with me now,” he explains slowly.

Your senses begin aligning with the room around you. A slight chill in the air hits your damp face, but some blankets tangled in your legs provide a little warmth.

Joel’s hands provide warmth.

“Woulda been here sooner, but I was in the kitchen fixin’ somethin’ up. Been asleep a while.” You blink slowly. You hear the stove creaking as it heats up. Or maybe it’s cooling down. It’s dark outside your window. What time was it? How long had you been sleeping? How long had Joel stayed in bed with you? 

You’re struck by how empty it feels without him in it, next to you and holding you. You sit up and shakily crawl towards him. You grab him closer to you with your arms around his neck.

“Gonna be okay. I promise,” he murmurs into your ear. You stare blankly ahead at the wall behind Joel’s head. You give an empty nod and pull back. Your hollow stare meets his uncertain expression.

“You should get up. Your knees are going to be killing you,” you rasp weakly.

You scoot yourself up into a sitting position. Joel grunts as he shifts off his knees and onto the bed next to you. Your hands are folded in your lap, your unfixed stare straight ahead never wavering. Joel leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his thighs and lacing his fingers together. You sit in silence for a few moments, the stove creaking occasionally.

“Punched this jackass in a makeshift bar one time,” Joel starts, clearing his throat. The statement is unexpected to say the least. You aren’t sure why Joel is sharing a bar fight story, but you don’t have it in you to linger on it.

“Firefly joint. Not the best place to spend your night, but it helped decent jobs crop up a whole lot more if you talked it up with the right people.”

You watch Joel’s profile as he speaks. There’s something soft there, open. Like he’s not hiding himself away or keeping a guard up. His usually closed off face is now a flow of expression, a roadmap of the thoughts and memories flooding his mind. It draws you in just seeing him like this.

“Anyway, this real booksmart, street stupid type guy that couldn’t hold his liquor for shit wouldn’t stop talkin’ to me about the ‘science of loss,’ whatever the fuck that’s supposed’ta mean. Just wanted to hear himself talk ‘n sound smart about his take on the end of the world and humanity and all that bullshit.” Joel exhales a sharp laugh through his nose at the memory.

“Started gettin’ all emotional talkin’ about his Firefly buddy that caught a clicker to the head. Wouldn’t shut up about how hard it is to lose somebody. Only let him go on as much as I did ‘cause he had it in good with a guy I wanted to trade with. Anyway, he got tired of me not havin’ a public waterworks with him. Started sayin’ I didn’t have a heart or some shit. Got up to leave the lecture when he pushed me. Knocked his ass out cold right then and there.” As amusing as it was to hear Joel give you a play-by-play highlight reel of his best “I beat somebody up in a bar once” hits, you’re lost on what you’re supposed to do with this information. You sit silently, waiting for him to speak again. Joel glances at you, sensing he isn’t doing a great job at explaining why this should matter to you. He shifts his body fully in your direction and clears his throat again. “Point is,” he continues. “The walk home had me thinkin’ about some of the stuff he said. Most of it complete bullshit, obviously, but he did say somethin’ that stuck with me and I didn’t figure out why for a long time.” He pauses, checking to see if he still has your attention. You nod your head up once as if to signal tell me what it was. “He kept sayin’ this one thing. ‘Grief isn’t linear.’ Musta said it a dozen times at least. Sounded so odd at the time. I think that’s what made it stick, initially.” 

Joel rubs his hands together, either in thought or out of nervous habit at sharing private thoughts and memories. His eyes shift back to you.

“Sounded stupid, though. Well, did to me at first, at least. But at some point it made sense. Fit in with my life. Things I’ve been through–” he sucks in a deep breath, unsettled at what he’s about to say, perhaps “– people I’ve lost….”

His gaze drops from yours for a moment. You can tell this is difficult to talk about, even if he hasn’t said anything particularly revealing. Still, for him it was sharing more than was in his comfort zone.

“And, I know with.. Caroline,” he says with a hesitance, unsure if it might set you off, “How hard that must’ve been. Hell, I about lost my mind when I first came out this way lookin’ for Tommy. Got to a certain point I was scared he was gone forever. Had to fuckin’ lean against somethin’ just to catch my breath, I got so fuckin’ afraid of losin’ somebody else.”

You nod thoughtfully. It was comforting that Joel could understand how devastating it might be to lose your younger sibling, somebody you’re supposed to take care of and protect. Joel was lucky, though. He hadn’t lost Tommy.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, shoving your drying tears off your cheeks.

“You hafta,” Joel says, suddenly stern. Your eyes shoot back up to meet his. His palm settles against your thigh, hot and grounding. “If you don’t, it’s gonna eat you up alive."

For a fleeting second, you don’t think just giving up would be so bad. It would be easier, at least. As if he could read your thoughts, Joel interrupts your defeatist musings.

“And it ain’t easier to just bury it. Take it from a dumbass who knows,” he huffs with a humorless laugh. “You can let it make you as numb as it possibly can, and you can still feel every fuckin’ thing.”

You let the words sink into your brain.

Looking back, you really believed that you’d settled this heartbreak. You thought you’d walked that difficult tightrope of grief and made it to the other side, miraculously unscathed. But you weren’t being honest with yourself. The box of Caroline’s belongings, the few you’d taken from her dead body, sat sealed up in a closet upstairs. You’d crowded yourself into the smallest area possible in your home, protecting yourself from the haunting artifact of your greatest failure. Shoving the memory of your sister into a dark alcove, someplace you’d never have to even cross because you avoided those areas of your own house. Like a coward.

“It’s never gonna go away, is it?” you choke out in a hush. “M’not gonna lie to you, sweetheart, and tell you it vanishes one day. Doesn’t ever go away, but it can sure as hell get better.”

You hold back tears for the thousandth time today.

“What if you’re scared to go back?” you ask quietly, staring straight ahead again.

Joel pauses for a moment before leaning closer to you, his weight sinking his hand into the mattress underneath you.

“Can’t speak for everybody, but . .  in my case . . having somebody to hold your hand along the way helps.”

His fingers twitch beside your leg, but he doesn’t move his hand. You slowly unfold your hands from your lap and slide one on top of Joel’s. You awkwardly grab at his fingers, holding his pinky and ring finger with all of yours. His thumb brushes against your palm.

Part of you wants to wrap yourself in his arms and let him shroud you in comfort. The other half of you wants to scream and run away.

“Ellie’s probably wondering where you are,” you point out.

“She knows where I am,” he answers calmly.

“You don’t need to get back home?” you ask, partly an actual question but mostly a plea from your escapee side for him to leave.

“Not right this minute, no,” he replies flatly, not acknowledging your silent request to be left to your own devices. “We’re gonna sit here for a little while, okay?” he says. His thumb is circling grounding energy into you. You give a weak nod and whisper, “Okay.”

He lays back down, straightening the blankets as he pulls you next to him underneath them. You circle your arm under his and cup your hand over his shoulder, pulling him closer. You hook a leg over his hip and tuck your head under his chin. Joel’s arms wrap you into him, and the small kneading motion on your back from before resumes. 

You don’t care right now that you’re mad at him. You don’t care how angry and hurt he made you. You don’t care that there’s a million things you need to get off your chest and scream at him.

RIght now, you need him. You need this side of him. Not the harsh, spiteful Joel. The Joel that sweeps you up when you’re freefalling. The Joel that shelters you from your own mind when it gets the better of you. The Joel that stays with you every step of your harrowing trek. The Joel that makes you want to hold him close to you like this until the world stops spinning and the sun goes out.

He lets you sit in silence for what seems like hours, giving you the sanctuary and permission to navigate your wounds without interruption. The reemerging darkness didn’t feel like it was clawing its way forward anymore, and you knew it wouldn’t drag you under if Joel’s hand was in yours, ready to pull you up if you needed him to.

It had been several days since Joel had held you against him, safe and warm in your bed. The sleep had afforded you the ability to explain to Joel that you hadn’t formulated any plans to hurt yourself, how the herb mixture needed to be consumed with care but wasn’t anything that would seriously harm you, and how you were mostly just exhausted more than anything else. You skipped the detail where you felt a crippling sense of loneliness, but he’d probably already picked up on that anyway. Joel had a funny way of seeming to know just what you were thinking these days, what your reactions and reflections were. Like he had a cheat sheet of all your moves.

Your schedule had gotten off course with all the recent turmoil and missed days, and you were home before Ellie got out of school only to pick back up in the afternoon to catch up with odds and ends. Joel had taken to walking Ellie over to your house when she got out of school if he wasn’t on patrol or working at the site.

He didn’t attempt to invite himself in, and you felt unsure about asking him to join you for the short tea break. You didn’t know how to act around him, let alone with Ellie in the midst of it all. You wanted to keep a clear head where she was concerned. You’d done enough to unsettle her. She didn’t need any more of that nonsense.

When you heard a knock at the door, you didn’t think anything of it. You had two cups already out and ready to be filled for you and Ellie. When the door swung open to reveal Joel by himself, you were surprised.

“Is everything okay? Is Ellie okay? Where is she?” you ask, the octave of your voice climbing with each new question.

Joel smiled softly and held a hand up to put a stop to your fretting. “Relax. S’just me today. Wanted to talk to you, if that’s alright.”

Your shoulders relax when you hear that Ellie is okay. You nod and motion for Joel to come inside. His looming shape feels like an eclipse of comfort when he follows you closely on the way back to the kitchen. Your spine just about melts when his hand brushes against the small of your back as he crosses behind you at the counter.

“Made you a cup of tea, I guess,” you laugh gently. You slide the cup towards him, and you don’t miss the way his nose scrunches in distaste. “Or not,” you snort, lifting a brow in amusement.

“Nah, s’alright. I’ll have it. No need to waste it,” he mutters. He continues to give the cup a dubious look.

“You’re such a snob. And over hot bean water, no less,” you scoff with no real venom in your words.

“Guess I am,” he muses with a wry smile.

You clear your throat and take a sip of your tea. You jerk your head towards the table, and Joel follows you to sit. Your eyes open wider when he settles into the chair next to yours instead of across from you.

You take another sip of your tea and look at Joel’s mug expectantly. He shoots you a weary frown but raises it to his lips.

“Can’t believe people like this shit,” he grumbles with a scrunched mouth and brow.

You laugh under your breath and roll your eyes. “You’re impossible,” you mutter.

“Funny you should say that. Sorta what I came to talk to you about,” he admits.

“Joel, you already apologized,” you start. You wave a dismissive hand at him. “And you’ve done plenty to make up for it, okay? Let’s just drop it.”

“That’s not gonna work for me,” he argues. His hand curves around yours where it hugs your mug. Your lips part at the simple but charged contact.

“I fucked up. I said some shit I had no business sayin’.”

You shake your head in quick jerks. “Joel, just drop it. We both know that even if you were an asshole about it, you weren’t exactly saying anything that wasn’t true. It’s not even–”

“Don’t matter what’s the truth if you’re just sayin’ somethin’ to hurt somebody,” he interrupts. “And I was. I was tryna hurt you. And when I did what I meant to do, it didn’t make me feel any better. Made me feel like shit that I treated you like that. Ellie woulda had me strung up if she knew half the shit I said to you.” He takes a deep breath and sits back in his chair.

“I let you down. Messed up a trust I hadn’t even fully earned yet. A trust I don’t deserve. I let Ellie down, too. She likes you. Looks up to you, I think.” He sniffs a laugh. “Don’t tell her I told ya that, though.”

You chew at your lip watching him speak with you in such a raw way. There’s none of that gruff, volatile Joel here in front of you.

“I kept rackin’ my  brain, tryna think of how I could make you understand how sorry I am,” he says, turning his head to look at you.

Had he always had such big, brown eyes? Were they always so wide open and warm? You feel yourself instinctively leaning towards him as he speaks.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I mean that. I meant it when I said it before, too. But I’m also tryna come up with my own ways to show you I mean it, that I ... care about you,” he finishes quietly.

You slowly nod, taking in all this raw expression from him.

“And, uh, I do have somethin’ I was thinkin’ about. I’m sure you know about the trip some of the patrol groups are makin’ out to Teton in the next coupla days.”

You nod. You’re aware of the scouting trip a small patrol group was preparing to go on. Heading to Teton to further assess supply chains and resources. Tommy was heading it up.

“Tommy usually goes on those types of things, but he’d just be a distracted ball of nerves bein’ away from Maria right now. It’s a few days, but it’s still far enough that he’d be a mess. No sense in sendin’ him if he’s gonna be like that. I need to do somethin’ to get Maria to warm up to me a bit more, anyway,” he chuckles darkly.

You shoot him a wry smile. “Sister-in-law still not a fan of you, huh?”

He rubs one of his eyes wearily and shrugs. “Somethin’ like that.”

“So, what? I’m stop number two on your kiss and makeup tour today then?” you deadpan.

Joel’s eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes so quickly you almost missed it. “Mmm, not exactly.”

“I mean… what would I even be doing? Doesn’t sound like much of a favor to be honest,” you point out.

“She’s stayin’ with Tommy, but it would make me feel a hell of a lot better knowin’ you were checkin’ in on her, too.”

Joel’s gaze was fixed on you, looking for any sort of change in your expression. His mug of tea sat forgotten as he turned to face you and rest his arm on the back of your chair and his other hand on your thigh.

“You sure you aren’t worried about me being alone with Ellie? Not scared I’m going to have some breakdown again or something?” you huff in a humorless laugh. You drop your gaze. You felt ashamed for putting Ellie through all your personal bullshit. “Can’t imagine seeing how I’ve been  lately would make you believe I’m the person to trust with her.”

“Hey,” he says softly, cupping a hand against your cheek and turning your face to look at him. “You’re good for Ellie. You’re good for–good for both of us.”

“You mean that?” you whisper.

Joel nods. “I do. I really do.”

Your hands leave your mug in a flash and cradle Joel’s face as you crash your lips onto his. He drags you effortlessly from the seat of your chair, and you clamber onto his lap. His mouth and hands are everywhere on you. He groans into your mouth when your hands start to travel across his body. Now that his lips and tongue meld together with your own, you aren’t quite sure why you haven’t already done this. This was so much easier than trying to find the right words to say or figure out the right way to express things.

“Fuck, why’d it take us so long to do this?” he pants against your mouth.

You laugh softly in agreement and drag his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Don’t know. Maybe we’re both just a pair of idiots,” you laugh.

“I know you sure as hell make my brain go fuckin’ stupid the second you’re around me,” he scoffs without any real indignation behind the words.

You pull back to look at him. His eyes soften when they find yours.

“I mean it,” he urges quietly. “I’ve been so stupid. Said stupid shit. Done stupid shit. None of it what you deserved.”

You silently nod in agreement. You hadn’t deserved any of the cruelty Joel had subjected you to. You hadn’t been feeling very hopeful that it was something he would ever recognize or acknowledge. The fact that he was now doing both make your heart do something very dangerous: hope.

“Can we stop buttin’ heads? And can you let me show you how I wish I’d acted in the first place?” he pleads with a tender conviction. 

“Only if you act, like, really pathetically sorry. Over the top remorse or I’m out,” you deadpan.

“Won’t hafta put on much of an act,” he mumbles. “Been a complete asshole.”

You hold his face between your hands again and offer a soft smile. “Let’s just call it a truce, alright? I’ll try to keep my assessments to a minimum, and you…”

“Can stop bein’ such a combative killjoy?” he suggests with a sheepish grin.

“Deal,” you breathe out a laugh.

You finish your tea in comfortable silence as you watch Joel eye his mug with distaste. Your heart flutters when he takes the used mugs to the sink and rinses them out for you. The simple act of domesticity, in your own home, felt right. The butterflies swarm in your stomach when he takes your hand in his while you walk him to your door.

You pause before reaching for the handle. He pulls you into his middle, wrapping his arms around you. Relief washes over you.

“Take care of Ellie while I’m gone. And take care of yourself, too.”

You nodded against his chest. “I will.”

“Because when I get back, I’m checkin’ on the both of you.”

“Okay,” you smile.

Joel ghosted a smattering of kisses across your forehead. His beard scratches and tickles the skin there. You nervously giggle and press your face into him. His palm covered a large expanse of your back where he rubbed calming circles, only stopping to run his fingers through the patch of strands that had come loose from your braid.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Be good for me, yeah?”

“Okay,” you reply. You try to ignore the building heat between your legs at his words.

“Need some more of this before I go, though,” he says as he dips down to bring his lips against yours.

He kisses you slower this time, more exacting in his discovery of this part of you he now has access to. When you both draw back to catch your breath, the image of your face lit up with giddy titillation is the memento he tucks away in his mind to conjure and treasure whenever he must be apart from you.

Thank you all for being so patient for this update! I had to rework several chapters after I decided to make a change to a certain part of the story, but we are back on track now.

Some random thoughts about this chapter: • This chapter sheds some light on why Joel's "lumberjack assassin" line a few chapters back didn't get a great reception. • It also gives us a little insight as to how the pair of them are more similar than they yet understand. They both did terrible things to survive, and in the name of protecting their younger sibling. Two sides of the same coin.

catch ya later, Puddles

#fic: endless night #enni #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #joel miller hbo

[that-bitch-kat3]

okay so a couple of days ago i went on what can only be described as the best date of my life. i went out with this guy (we were all surprised) and i feel like we just clicked you know? we have the same values, political beliefs (which isn’t easy i live in texas), humor, etc. idk we just talk for hours at a time and i never get bored. and like we have the same decor style?!? which doesn’t seem like a big deal but it’s weird that it’s the same. anyways i’m trying so hard not to self sabotage so wish me luck.

#be honest guys #am i gonna fuck this up? #i feel like i might #i hope not tho #i just fucking like him #kat talks #that-bitch-kat3

[ficsinhistory]

The weight of 2x05 - Pop

So, I'm watching The Bear again and watching the sixth episode of the second season is so, so difficult to the point of causing physical pain because it's the episode that makes clear that Carmy is self-sabotaging. Self-sabotaging because he still hasn't dealt with and resolved the trauma he still has, wanting to be a person he doesn't, self-sabotaging by getting into a relationship never wanted because that man definitely doesn't like Claire, and self-sabotaging specifically with Sydney (and the restaurant by extension).

See, there was no, no reason for him to be with Claire at that moment. Carmy knows how to drive. If he just wanted to help Nat, he'd drive to the post office and back to The Bear. But, he doesn't do that! Syd said they would talk after he got back and out of nowhere he calls Claire and spends the day away, which is unnecessary! You could argue that it would be because he wanted to set up a date and found a way but… the point is that he had already set up a date with Claire!

Transcript of episode 2x05 (POP): Carmy: Hey, hey. I, um, I know we were supposed to hang out later, but, um, I-I was wondering if you might want to take a drive to Winnetka with me instead.

And, do you know why he did that? Because this idiot knows, even if unconsciously, that something is going on. That there is something good happening. Something good with Syd happening. Carmy objectively knows that he likes spending time with Syd, that she is good for him, and that he has this admiration, kindness and softness always directed towards her. But, to be honest, he also knows on some level (even a shallow one) that it's not pure friendship. Carmy is an artist, a sensitive person, and even though he is emotionally stunted, he is not stupid… completely. But Syd and the whole idea of the restaurant that she, they created together, everything that this beautiful, intelligent woman represents, is new for him. It's different from anything he has ever experienced or witnessed in his life. Carmy has never dealt with such healthy situations and such a hopeful future. He has never fallen so much in love with someone he has so much in common. Someone who clearly respects him, admires him, helps him and makes him feel good and who, perhaps for the first time, he chose for himself.

He doesn't know how to deal, how to continue with so many unresolved situations that he still has and as doesn't have the courage to resolve yet, so he takes the easy way out. Carmy was born, raised and thrived in abusive situations. He was guided and raised his entire life by Mike as his biggest icon and reference, and he loved him despite everything that happened between them. The brother who Carmy still in mourning and has not resolved himself with his sudden departure, loss of fraternal relationship and this feeling that he has to honor and be proud. That's why Carmy tries to have a relationship with Claire, because that's what Mike wanted for him. It's the simplest path, where he doesn't change, where he doesn't need to make an effort because Claire does all this work for him and his brother would love them. No wonder Pop comes before Fishes. He follows what is familiar, what Mike would want, what he has been told is right. What was always repeated that would make him happy. Which manifests itself in the insistence of Fak and Richie since Mike died, and they were the closest to him and agreed with the older Berzatto's ideas. That's why he decides to basically run away from Syd when she goes after him to do something together. Like what happened in the episode when she wanted to discuss the menu and the cutlery, and he ducked the whole post office thing. And when Syd says, making it clear that she wouldn't let him get away with everything when he gets back, they would continue talking, Carmy calls Claire and finds a way to disappear for the entire day. And so Carmy takes a long, hard look at Fak before calling her.

That's why the episode ends by saying that Fak set everything up for Carmy after he returns to the restaurant and this dumbie decides that he's going to make the move to start this venture that Mike wanted him to try. Carmy never wanted Claire or this whole other persona he assumed, or at least tried to assume. But, he's too unresolved and a bit self-centered and cowardly to do anything about it, which ends up coming back to bite him and unfortunately Syd and the restaurant in the butt. And this ended up separating him from what he wanted and who he really wanted, with results bordering on disastrous. In S3 Carmy better sort herself out, because Syd can be patient, but she's already shown that she doesn't accept unhealthy situations forever. And then he may lose the things he once loved in life through no one's fault but himself.

#sydcarmy #the bear meta #the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #syd x carmy #anti claire bear #Seriously #I wanted to take Carmy by the shoulders and say: “baby we resolve our traumas in therapy #not abandoning our business partners for whom we had a lot of tesion and affinity #Syd is better than me #carmy is better gets better

[gingerylangylang1979]

Will Carmy become an addict?... Also, exactly what are his mental health (or other) issues?

This conversation is an offshoot of thoughts expressed here in conversation with @november-rising.

I'll start by saying I do not think Carmy is currently an addict or in recovery from an addiction. But, could Carmy become an addict like his dad (was he an addict or just a heavy abuser, we don't know) Mikey, and Donna? Maybe. Also, I hope nothing I write is offensive to anyone. If anyone thinks there is something I'm missing or misrepresenting please share and we can talk about it. I'm open to learning.

The statistic rates for people impacted by another person's addiction becoming an addict themselves is high. I myself had a drug addict mom and an alcoholic ex. I dabbled in drugs but never became an addict unless you count cigarettes and weed (no longer do either). How me and my brother didn't end up addicts despite our experimentation with hard substances is beyond me. All of the prerequisites were in place and I feel like we almost were tempting it like, come on, I know you want to take me, yet, neither of us ended up addicts.

Sometimes I felt it would make things easier. I think it was Lou Reed, maybe, who said something like addiction made life simple because then you only have one problem to deal with. I wish I only had one problem. I tried stuff as hard as coke, meth, and opium. I was a bartender and partied but never became an alcoholic. My brother went as far as trying heroin a few times. But neither of us became addicts. It's insane if you think about it.

Does that mean we didn't/do participate in fucked up self-destructive behavior? Hell no. Most of my life I have battled with trying to "be normal" all the while self sabotaging all along the way. But I never became an addict.

This is why it's so easy for me to see Carmy in all of his darkness and still see how he isn't necessarily someone doomed to become an addict. Nat didn't become one, me and my brother didn't become ones. I see a lot of us in Nat and Carmy. Carmy is way worse off than Nat, for sure. How, I dunno. And I would say I'm closer to Carmy in the melancholic creative way than my brother. So it's kind of a weird blessing that traumatized people who you would think would become addicts, don't, but it happens.

Could Carmy become one? I think if he continues to not address his issues with individual therapy, continues to blame himself, and just continues the same grind he wanted to escape, possibly. But I'm looking more to how Storer and Co. are telling the story as my signs more than Carmy's actual history. I guess I just don't see what the show would have to gain from Carmy becoming an addict. It would be a tragic ending. I'm not beyond them doing some tragic ending but I think it would just be kind of lame and what was the point if it ends with Carmy continuing the cycle and becoming an addict.

I see him and Nat as the second chance for the Berzattos. She is about to be a mom and hopefully will raise a child that doesn't have to witness any of the trauma she did. Carmy is trying to start over and I think as much as he is struggling now and it may get worse before better, I just see too many points of lightness for him to crawl towards/through. And I think this being so inspired by Storer's lived experience, I can't see him wanting it to end in doom and gloom. Chris and Coco are Carmy and Nat to me. They broke the curse. I think because of that he would want the show to reflect that.

Now, what the fuck is wrong with Carmy, in detail. I will start by saying we don't really know a diagnosis. I think common/possibly correct assumptions are a mix of anxiety, depression, and CPTSD. But I've also seen other ideas like maybe he is on the spectrum among other things. I'm not quick to say anything outside of the first three. He could be neurodivergent, but I guess what makes me not want to say that is because when people bring it up there is often this sentiment that it explains everything about him or that is takes precedent over his behavior being a reaction to his trauma. Two things can be true at the same time but I sometimes feel people apply neurodivergence in a way that dismisses how the average person would deal with a series of overlapping traumas.

The same way I see people assign Sydney as being neurodivergent and I'm like, or she could just be dealing with a lot of bullshit and trauma as a black woman? Because shit, I'm similar, does that mean I'm neurodivergent, too? Not to take away anyone who is neurodivergent and they relate to things they see in the characters. I'm just saying be careful to not dismiss common reactions to lived experience as such without more insight. Or sometimes people can be awkward or quirky without it being neurodivergence. Like sometimes it comes across as what we do know the characters have gone through isn't enough to justify what we see.

I will say I could see a case for Carmy having a learning disability. The evidence being his dislike for reading extensively and his very poor math skills. I think it was @eatandsleepwell who pointed out he only likes books with pictures. It's true. Most of his books are image heavy. And a lot of people are bad at math but he can't keep up with basic addition and subtraction (aka dyscalculia). But again, I think we are seeing evidence of this specific condition, not vague symptoms that could occur due to a number of things.

None of this is to say speculation or headcanons are not welcome. But to hard assign diagnosis is another thing.

#carmy berzatto #the bear fx #addiction #trauma

[zodiactalks]

These Zodiac Signs will DRIVE YOU CRAZY

Have you ever noticed that when to talk to a certain someone in your life, you often end up doubting yourself, feeling as though you’re crazy, don’t have it all together, or are just plain out of your mind? Fret not, it’s not you.

Some zodiac signs have the potential to put things on someone else’s head just to save themselves from everlasting guilt or shame. This is called gaslighting, and some zodiac signs are champions of gaslighting.

This can be in the form of disapproval, persistent doubt, twisting and turning reality into their own version of ‘facts’ that can drive any sane person, insane. They often get away with this as they have the confidence and courage to look into someone’s eyes, tell their version of ‘truth’ with such beaming conviction that can make anyone doubt their own mind.

Let’s find out if you’re dealing with a zodiac sign that can or is already driving you crazy -

#1. Gemini

A zodiac sign that is incapable of confronting and resolving issues, often finds the easy route by manipulation and gaslighting.

Gemini is truly someone who changes their opinions and views a mile a minute. This is exactly why they find it really difficult to stick to their words and end up doing something completely different than what they promise.

This often gets them into trouble and in order to dodge the bullet of accepting their mistake, they end up changing the entire dynamic into what works best for them by blaming someone else.

Gemini can be very moody and their emotions change every second, making them unpredictable and difficult to be around. People in their life often find themselves walking on eggshells and see Gemini as a missile that can go off at any second.

People with Gemini in their life often feel as though they’re losing their mind and end up having to self-doubt with Gemini’s manipulative moves.

#2. Scorpio

Scorpio is one of the most controlling zodiac signs who need complete authority in their hands, so they can plan, twist, and move things according to their liking.

They feel entitled to take control over your life and their jealous and insecure side often makes them sabotage their own relationships. They appear to be dominating and possess anger issues which often scares off their beloved ones.

Scorpio is overly possessive about their self-respect and loyalty from their partner so much so that they can create a huge deal even on a groundless feeling that their partners are cheating on them. Scorpio’s controlling nature can make even the sanest of people want to pull their own hair.

#3. Leo

Leo, the lion sure does get roaring which might just drive you crazy to the extent you’d rather walk away than be near the roaring lion. Leo is incapable of apologizing for their mistake and the word ‘sorry’ can’t be found in their dictionary.

In the quest for finding the upper hand, Leo will go to any extent and can manipulate their way into guilting you into things you never saw coming.

Leo is always up in their head about things and cannot ever stick to their feelings, one minute you’re the world to them and the next you’re merely someone they knew from the past.

Their wrath is not everyone’s cup of tea and their fire energy cannot be always dealt with. They have a nagging side that can come to the surface quite often and can repel you as they might have an endless list of complaints about you or hand you a to-do list to work on yourself.

Leo’s pride, sulking nature, and wrath are something that can make their loved ones feel crazy for loving a Leo.

#4. Virgo

Talk about perfection! Perfection at the cost of sanity, though. Virgo is known for their orderly ways that make them well, Virgo. Their obsessive need to keep everything and everyone in check can be immensely controlling to the point that they often forget to let loose and have fun.

This trait of being perfect, something the Virgo believes people should look up to, often ends up being a characteristic that the people in their life find pretty annoying. Virgo being an idealist cannot take criticism and is known to hold grudges for eternity.

Virgo is also known to be a runner from conversations and confrontations. They are known to dwell in their hideaway if they ever have to have a deep conversation about their feelings.

It takes a lot to win the heart of a Virgo but very little for them to lose interest in you. This unpredictable nature can make Virgos one of the most complicated zodiacs that will drive you crazy and make you drive your car far away from them.

#Zodiac #Zodiac Signs #ZodiacFacts #astrology #astrology signs #Aquarius #Aries #Cancer #Capricorn #leo #libra #Sagittarius #Pisces #taurus #scorpio #Gemini #virgo

[themculibrary]

Matt Murdock/Karen Page (Karedevil) Masterlist

5 Times Karen Gave Matt His Drink Back and the 1 Time She Didn’t (ao3) - randomfandommusings6 T, 8k

Summary: Exactly what the title says: a 5+1 Karedevil fic.

A New Year's Eve to Remember (ao3) - josiesbar T, 3k

Summary: Foggy convinces Karen and Matt to come to the Nelson New Year's Eve Party.

Bated Breath (ao3) - karedeviltrash M, 46k

Summary: A step forward is suddenly interrupted by an unfortunate event.

Breakable Heaven (ao3) - irelandhoneybee T, 3k

Summary: Matt has been so busy he hasn't realized he's been neglecting Karen, who never expected to be discussing her sexual frustrations with Foggy, who will more than likely need a stiff drink after dealing with these idiots.

By your side (ao3) - Stephics T, 4k

Summary: Karen needs to travel urgently to her hometown (Vermont). Foggy is unable to accompany her, so she has to go with Matt as her last resort. How will things turn out?

Carry Your Heart (ao3) - irelandhoneybee T, 12k

Summary: Foggy and Marci are getting married. Matt and Karen are both members of the wedding party and find themselves growing closer and closer

Checkmate (ao3) - LilyEllison M, 27k

Summary: Investigative reporter Karen Page is annoyed when she’s assigned a fluff piece about a new company that claims to do DNA matchmaking. She thinks the technology sounds like bullshit, and she plans an exposé so customers won’t get scammed. All she has to do is prove some guy named Matt Murdock isn’t her soulmate. Easy, right?

coulda, shoulda, woulda (ao3) - LilyEllison T, 5k

Summary: Prompt from LadyMaigrey: "Matt asking Karen out for the first date post-S3. It could have gone like this / It should have gone like this / But it actually happened like this."

Deep into the Abyss (ao3) - LittleDidTheyKnow E, 35k

Summary: Matt Murdock tries to put his life back together after the series of poor decisions he made during the Punisher trial and his conflict with the Hand. Just when he thinks he's repaired what's been broken, his worst fear is realized.

He finds himself back on the road to self-sabotage and must decide if he can live with the pain he's experienced and find a way to move on, or spiral into a life of solitude.

deja vu (ao3) - LilyEllison M, 11k

Summary: When the fledgling Devil of Hell’s Kitchen meets a local bookshop owner, sparks fly. But what happens when you fall for someone while wearing a mask?

AU. Roughly corresponds to just before Season 1 in show time (for Matt, at least). Written for the Daredevil Exchange 2022 New Year Fanweek, Day 1: The City.

Don’t go where I can’t find you (ao3) - Persehfone G, 800

Summary: Karen didn’t know how many blocks she ran in the rain, but by the time she reached Matt’s apartment she was soaked wet and out of breath

New Beginnings (ao3) - josiesbar T, 13k

Summary: This takes place shortly after season 3. Nelson, Murdock, and Page begin their new law firm. Karen struggles with her feelings for Matt and guilt over past events.

No One in the Streets (ao3) - Meinhiding G, 1k

Summary: Matt and Karen's life during NYC's lockdown.

Objections (ao3) - LilyEllison T, 7k

Summary: Now that they’ve got Nelson, Murdock and Page up and running, Karen is determined to just be friends with Matt. That's the responsible, grown-up business owner thing to do. But if everyone could please stop hitting on him right in front of her, that would be great. (Not that she cares, of course. It’s just ... well, maybe she cares.)

Plus One (ao3) - Meinhiding G, 6k

Summary: Foggy helps Matt reading him his emails. He takes the opportunity to develop a plan to make Karedevil happen.

Starting Over (ao3) - josiesbar T, 10k

Summary: Karen has been trying to deal with all the loss in her life and keep Fisk from getting out of prison, but everything changes when she finds out Matt is alive.

The Closing Curtain (ao3) - Meinhiding E, 3k

Summary: Karen and Matt keep dreaming about being together but they do nothing about it. Foggy is getting tired of their show and gives them a boost.

The Thanksgiving Set-Up (ao3) - Eva_Swan T, 5k

Summary: Foggy, Marci and Maggie had a brilliant idea. Matt and Karen were too stubborn to admit their feelings to each other, so they would set them up with other people... to bring them together. This Thanksgiving would be the best. (Post season 3)

we'll have the same dream (ao3) - clarineta T, 4k

Summary: "And it was nice outside, a nice winter evening, and when he suggested a walk instead of a cab, she didn’t say no. He held his hand against the small of her back as they got out into the street, always finding little ways to touch her, hold her arm, touch her shoulder. She would never complain."

Karen and Matt take a long late night Christmas walk.

"You could come up, if you'd like..." (ao3) - Pikkulef M, 7k

Summary: Litterally, what would have happened if Matt had not been a damn coward and had trusted Karen.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #matt murdock #karen page #karedevil #karedevil masterlist #masterlists #f/m

[alyjojo]

October ⚖️ 2023 Monthly - Aquarius

Whole of your energy: 8 Swords rev

You’re needing to release yourself from something you’ve felt trapped in, or habits you keep yourself trapped in. There’s a particular message about you not caring enough about your health, and rest especially. Not getting enough sleep. Justice shows the need for balance in your life, and cutting away the excess that isn’t working for you, so that you can head down a new path with The Fool. The whole reading is saying you need to take care of yourself now, building up your Strength, so that you can have the necessary energy & be ready for something amazing that’s coming in later ⭐️

What’s going on in October:

4 Cups:

It could be a romantic relationship they’re talking about, or it could be several with 3 Cups here as well. Friends, lovers, family, you are neither here nor there with whether people come into your life, or leave it. There is a Knight of Wands energy with this, you could also be the one that’s very in and out with other people in your world. It’s possible that in love, one foot is always out of the door, you never really come in, have a seat, buy a dog, build a fence…you interact from the door 🚪 Just in case you have to walk right back out again. Non-committal behavior. That can apply to friends too. If that’s NOT you, then Justice can be showing these sorts of disconnected “connections” needing to be cut off and removed from your life. Or you need to stop, because it’s not doing you any favors.

4 Swords:

Clarified by 6 Wands, and a whole book of cards expressing your negative perceptions and expectations of everything that *should* be positive. You’re needing to heal the expectation that everything is going to go wrong, you’re always going to be disappointed, “nothing lasts forever”. In your meditation, it opened at the top of a mountain, on a long & winding staircase, in a freakin blizzard. There were coats nearby and the stairs were well salted, I was like “well, that‘s thoughtful” 😆 You were all the way at the bottom a ways in the distance, in a bubble with a table, chairs, tea and sunshine, perfectly happy & oblivious to this insane blizzard. You were happy to let me in & chat, it just wasn’t easy. In the preshuffle, 6 Cups rev kept showing up - healing the past. Or having healed. That is probably what all of this is talking about, and what that is will be different for everyone. Negative perceptions that need to go. Pessimistic views about your life, the people in it, and where you’re headed. You have to heal this because 6 Wands - *winning* is the point, the purpose, what you need to want, think, feel, and believe ⭐️ There’s no reason you can’t, except that you expect to fail. And you need more sleep. And a green smoothie. And a walk. Like every day.

Strength:

This is building the necessary Strength required - health wise, and also showing that you hold back from family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, do you even talk to your fish? 10 Pentacles shows what you have that you hold yourself back from. Or what you could have but push away. That’s a whole family unit, support, people celebrating with you, friends. The Tower & Wheel of Fortune show necessary, karmic, or destined…still unexpected disasters having happened in your world that’s caused this whole behavioral habit of holding yourself back in the first place. Could be a trauma response, 4 Swords can refer to mental health too and that seems to be what we’re dealing with here. 6 Wands can be recognition, how you operate with other people needs to be examined so you can realize how you keep yourself from what you want. 8 Swords upright is self-sabotage, and you’re needing to release that for your own good. There’s a brand new cycle waiting on you.

3 Cups:

This is a celebration with others, could be a party of some kind, a holiday, a reunion with some people maybe you’ve had conflicts with, or you just feel conflicted about how to operate with some of the people around you. You want to move forward and plan on giving what you can to the situation, but also don’t know how much of yourself you should give. It’s a constant conflict, one foot in and one foot out, or do you hold on tightly to something that’s maybe not so great for you, or doesn’t reciprocate your efforts. Again, balance is needed, it’s not an all or nothing sort of situation, not everyone is the same. Some people are not good for you, bye. Others deserve everything you’ve got and they reciprocate, it’s just figuring out who is what. I get your intentions are good, and any celebrations or parties you’re involved in should go well, despite your reservations.

The Star:

Your energy, it’s the light in the dark after The Tower has fallen, the inspiration to head down a new path with The Fool, also partly your energy, and its moving towards your dreams, or you being able to see & experience them being realized, your authentic path. Your constant indecision is being healed. Queen of Swords & 10 Cups is showing you with a happy ending, happy family, happy friends, a happy life. None of this has to do with other people, it’s you. You can speak your honest truth to others safely, and you should. Your happiness all comes when you heal the past, trauma responses, deeply ingrained behaviors, non-committal tendencies & fear. 6 Cups rev comes out officially here to end the reading. You’ve already healed, there are just some lingering behaviors or beliefs maybe you don’t initially realize need to go. Releasing those that aren’t aligned with what you want or where you’re heading, wherever that applies. I’m getting you hold back from things that make you happy. It’s just fear. Let it go ❄️

8888 here shows actions needing to be taken to release yourself from this “holding back” unsure energy so that you can move towards what’s meant for you.

6666 here shows The Lovers/Connections that are successful, supportive, and have an equal exchange of giving and receiving in your life are what helps you release any old bs, this is the goal to head towards, the “risk” to take. If they make it through the storm, celebrate it with them, and some tea 🫖

Signs you may be dealing with:

Every sign is here, heavy air 💯

Oracles: ✨

34 Stuck

You may be stuck because you are overly attached to a method or piece.

21 Truth

An honest desire to know and speak the truth produces beneficial results.

23 Forgiveness 😌

It has been said forgiveness is the greatest gift we can give ourselves - forgiveness of others, but also forgiveness of self. We are the most critical and judgmental of ourselves. This inner critic does so much more harm than criticism that comes from others. Forgive yourself for trusting others and getting hurt, for not knowing, for not seeing, for not believing. You are human and you are growing and learning. Human perfection is rooted in imperfection. This card indicates the need for forgiveness in the situation asked about.

We enter into October as:

Righteous Raspberry 💅🏽:

“I have the same high standards for myself as I do for others.”

This is a message to lighten up! Notice your present attitude towards others. Perhaps you’re being too hard on yourself, and others as well. Allow others to be as they are. Supporting others around you creates allies. Watch your expectations, you could be setting yourself up for disappointment. You cannot be satisfied if you expect others to live up to standards you can’t even live up to. Besides, others are not you. Do it wrong, mess it up, have flaws. Trying to make the world perfect will only exhaust and alienate. Allow things to simple be. Look for what’s right in your world.

What is to be learned in October:

Electric Blue Moon 🌚:

“If I don’t take care of it, it’ll never happen.”

It is not time to force an issue. If something feels important to you, you may be jumping the gun. If you are impatient, you may block something wonderful from coming to you. Now is not the time for a rushed decision, even if you think you’ve given something “plenty” of time, give it more. You have made your needs known to Spirit, now leave it alone. If you try to force a situation, you may bind yourself to something you could come to know as a hinderance. Allow right action to happen in its own time.

Blue may be a lucky color 💙

#aquarius #aquarius tarot reading #monthly tarot reading #October 2023 #astrology #tarot #tarotblr

[invested-in-your-future]

No one cares about pathetic losers like you still whining about how Adam wasn't the real hero of the story and how Team RWBY didn't learn to obey men like Ironwood. Get a life, loser.

I know this is just a silly insult ask but:

I literally don't care about Adam lmao. Dude deserves to get murked. The issue with the writing around him though is just how much it diminishes Blake's actual trauma, denies her right to have a proper arc of overcoming her past and woobifies Adam into a Team Rocket villain the story making a false assertion that people like him are essentially easy to deal with and not even remotely dangerous. Basically the endgame the show actually delivered for him? Perfect. Couldn't happen to a worse guy. The issue is journey there being outright missing. We end Volume 3 establishing that he is reprehensible, awful and dangerous, but the bigger issue is the show treating the whole Faunus subplot as kind of an after-thought it wants to wrap up as fast as it can. So we start Volume 4 with him basically being written as Game of Thrones final season character - conveniently making all the self-sabotage decisions possible. And thus Blake never gets to properly and fully take back her life and agency from the people that wronged her. By trivializing abusive monsters like him, the show essentially trivializes both Blake and Yang's right to regain control of their lives. Yang never actually gets to face her trauma. Blake and Yang never actually get a character progression of dealing with Blake leaving at the end of V3 or their shared trauma during Fall of Beacon or the complex nature of their emotions. THAT'S the issue.

I literally don't care about Ironwood LMAO. Dude has been written as paranoid authoritarian strongman from day one. He might have a modicum of good intentions but he's not a good guy. As Atlas situation goes out of control he was ALWAYS going to be a problem. The issue here however is that its a good idea but bad execution. Literally everything surrounding Salem's giant floaty JRPG fortress of DOOM was silly. The OUTCOME of Ironwood doing something reprehensible and awful is PERFECT. The journey there yet again is kind of not there as the show tried to juggle multiple things at once, offscreening half of it. Because again, you can absolutely do entirety of Atlas stuff without Salem's merry band of evil EVER being involved. Atlas stuff is already going out of control because of Fall of Beacon. But instead of writing an arc about a militaristic kingdom and it's paranoid general spiraling out of control, the story introduces multiple redundant subplots making everything feel like kind of afterthought.

TLDR: Even if I were to literally rewrite entirety of the show with COMPLETELY different story progression and lore, Adam would STILL get his and Ironwood would STILL end up being on the wrong side of history.

#RWBY #really don't get that ASK LMAO #Here's me the totally total defender of Adam of all characters #as proven by walls of text about how that character is extremely toxic #or literally half my tumblr being walls of text angry when writers try to redeem that character stereotype #LOL #LMAO #RWDE

[dualityvn]

Takes a very very deep breath, before covering my entire head and body with the blanket as a makeshift cocoon.

(Dear God, let this be a testament to what I'll put myself through for this one man.)

"...Tenebris, do you even realize how horrifyingly close I am to having a breakdown right now?

I'm literally wearing very few layers of clothing, in your guys' bed nevertheless, and just woke up to you witnessing me in that state. Which is embarrassing, and mortifying if you take into consideration I do have a problem with nudity and especially towards people that I'm not currently dating, perceiving me in said partly nudity. Dear God, seeing you in the near future will be very embarrassing.

Normally, you know, I would just live through this embarrassment and carry on as normally as I could.

But, if that wasn't scary enough and I haven't heard enough horror cases where in similar situations some very unsavory stuff happen. You, a literal being that can break a human like a pretzel, go ahead and threaten me... While I, may I remind you, am already having a literal panic attack. This is probably the scariest situation I'll ever find myself in and I'm very tempted to throw whatever heavy object is next to me, and call you so many names. I would be very justified to do any of these actions, because please excuse my language in advance. What the absolute fuck???

Don't even get me started on the nerve you have, to find this as a great opportunity to have such a serious talk. When you literally see me almost everyday in this house??? And you chose the one night where those questions of yours would have already been answered by what I had been planning for weeks. Weeks!

You wanted to know why my behavior keeps switching? Because as I promised, I'm trying my best to try to show Keith that I'm trying. Therapy has definitely helped me have those little sweet moments with him without anything going bad. But I have times where I revert back to the old mindset of self sabotaging and being emotionally unavailable. Why? Because it's easier to do so than have to face the fact that I'm experiencing feelings I never had for a guy. It's not always a nice experience, sometimes it hurts, and can suck so much. I feel so weak and vulnerable and I hate it. It's easier for me to lie and act like I don't have any feelings, it feels safer at times. And it's stupid, it's stupid because Keith is a wonderful guy and yes, he would never hurt me intentionally. But you can't shake those habits off. Fears are always stupid but they are not easy to deal with. Keith isn't the only one facing his demons, I too have had past experiences that made me like this.

Do you think I love not being able to hold the hand of the poor guy I'm trying to date? I would just break down if I did it. And yes, I know Keith would be very understanding. Yet what if he blamed himself or thought I was repulsed by him? I don't want him to be sad, I don't want to constantly be the cause of his sadness, damnit. Sure, I could tell him, and I was planning to actually. This was me trying to build up towards maybe you know, talking and then trying to do something small? So he wouldn't feel like I'm just constantly using excuses, or that I don't truly like him. I just can't help it. Sometimes this relationship tends to feel that it's going way too fast for me, way too intimately. Then I shut down and I fear that I accidentally hurt him. Whereas for others that stuff is so easy for them to do without a second thought. They don't have to second guess their actions and words, they don't have to think twice before even initiating a single touch.

And hell, I already had a similar conversation with Keith, I told him that I'll need more time before my words match my actual feelings. That in the future, I'll become someone deserving of him and who can love him without fear. For now, he's okay with me trying to express everything through the little everyday things I do for him. Though if Keith was feeling this insecure, I would have preferred to learn it from him. Unless, it was so serious that you had to get involved and tell me that maybe I should try harder because he was lying about being okay. Please god, don't let him actually feel this way, he doesn't deserve it.

I won't lie and say I'm not mad at you right now. I'm not that delusional to think you care about me trying, you don't even trust me. You're just waiting for me to slip up and say that you called it. You don't care whether this relationship will work out. Hell, you probably hope it won't and that Keith will end up finding someone better. And even though all my previous points still stand and you could have handled this so much better, I get that you're just looking out for him. He's practically a brother to you and you want only the best for him as well. So I don't even want an apology, and I'm sorry if I made it seem that I'm giving mixed signals. I can't promise I won't do it again, but I am slowly building towards a place of being able to be openly affectionate with Keith without feeling like I opened up too much...

Just, after you're done lecturing me, can I please talk to him? Please, Tenebris? I have a few questions to ask him and would prefer he knows at least the summary of this situation. The last thing I want is for him to feel I'm hiding stuff from him, because I know this situation will get brought up in the near future."

"Excuse me?! You're sitting in my bed, yelling at me for walking into my own room and finding you in it? Of course I'm questioning you! You're fucking weird to me! I don't get how humans work. All I know is you keep saying dumb awful stuff for no reason. And he doesn't even question you! Whatever, just put on however many clothes you need to make you not throw shit at me. You can talk to him after." - Tenebris, right before he marches out

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