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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months

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We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

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batbabydamian · 5 months

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question- do you mind doing fic recs? And if so, do you have any good fics centered around Dick and Damian's relationship? In particular anything that plays with their whole "I'm your brother but also your father/son but not but yes" thing they've got going on? If you see this thank you, you're doing the lord's work <3

anon if you’re still out there, thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy these! there’s MANY Dick&Damian fics i love so i tried to limit it to the “im your brother AND kinda your dad but not really” dynamic!!

3:16 by partingxshot

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

i think every Dick & Damian enthusiast has read this lol it may be ongoing but its latest chapter is left on a very satisfying end for an arc!!

an endless road to rediscover by littlearrows

In the months before Mar'i is born, Dick and Damian take a cross-country road trip together.

if you enjoyed the Dick and Damian tension from Nightwing (2016) #16-20 you might like this! :’) encouraging everyone to read those issues tbh

to be human by newsical

None of his Gotham acquaintances look upon his old life favorably — this, Damian knows. Was his life not noble before? Damian feels like a waterboarded gnat, swirling towards a drain. Gently, as though he has not ripped out Damian’s stomach with his teeth, Alfred says, “Attempting to take his father’s place won’t work, Master Richard…” Their voices peter out, and the last thing Damian can hear is Richard huff and say something that sounds like, “No shit,” and he is alone. Somewhere, a clock ticks. Damian pictures it melting. (Dick and Damian over the years.)

lovely dive into Damian’s personal growth and his relationship with Dick!! reading the poem that inspired the fic, especially again after finishing the fic is a nice touch!

Do You Feel the Way My Past Aches? by fishfingersandjellybabies

Bruce finds a wayward Damian asleep on his couch. Dick then find them both. An unexpected conversation ensues.

a tender Bruce perspective on the dynamic! “Bruce thought back to watching them work, Dick the master of the spotlight and Damian his perfect shadow.” THEM

When You're The One Who's Loved by fishfingersandjellybabies

Damian doesn’t understand why Dick is so upset. Tim does, though.

SO SOFTT ykw just go thru all of this writer's Dick & Damian fics they just exude love and warmth!!

Tea for Two by StormLeviosa

Their apartment is full of smiles now. It is because of Pennyworth, he is sure. Damian did not realise how much he'd missed Pennyworth until he came back. He slotted into their little family like the puzzle piece you do not know is missing. It was pleasant, having a grandfather he did not need to fear, and Pennyworth was all that and more.

part of a series, but easily read as a standalone. they’ve given up the vigilante life and DOMESTIC DICK & DAMIAN + ALFRED!! WHOLESOME!! i also enjoy the other Damian installments of the series, fun explorations of his interests/skills like violin!! and animals (going to vet school!!)

Pop-tarts and orange juice by Ididloveyou_once

‘Do you ever wish that Father had actually died?’ ‘Never.’ And despite the vehemence with which Richard says the word, Damian thinks that he might be lying. But only because he hates himself for the truth. Or: Bruce has been back from the dead for three months. Damian doesn’t know how to feel. He does know that he misses his da- Richard. They talk about it… Sort of.

"He wants to tell him that nothing compares to being Robin at his side. To being Damian at his side." WAILING

The Weight of Legacy by DawnsEternalLight

Damian didn’t think. He didn’t have to, protecting Richard was instinct by now. Darting forward right into the arc of Crane’s scythe as it aimed for his partner’s neck was as familiar to him as breathing, etched into his DNA. For if he lost Richard again, how could he continue to exist? The man was not only his firmest tie to Batman’s mantle, now that Father was home and clashing with Damian, but at some point during their partnership he had inexorably woven himself into Damian’s very being. Through training, and lessons, and quiet nights filled with ice cream. Patience and love–a thing Damian had not hoped to find here when he’d first set foot on American soil. To lose Richard would be akin to losing a limb. And so Damian acted as if that were true. He wove protection of his mentor, Batman, sibling, into every action he took and refused to accept failure as an option.

"We Both Know You're The Last of the Graysons" as a fic prompt is wild...that panel never fails to make me cry... also, another writer with an abundance of fantastic Dick & Damian fics!!

Emergency Contact by DawnsEternalLight

Damian: Apologies for the intrusion into your day, Richard. I need you to pick me up from the gallery trip early, it seems I have been stabbed. Dick blinked down at the message then read it again. And again. His brain not quite processing the words staring up at him, backlit by the phone.

this ventures bit more into parent Dick Grayson, as in Damian explicitly calling Dick his dad at the end but it's a fun fic!! that preview always cracks me up LOL

The Stowaway by LittleLadybugs

There's a cat in the penthouse. Fortunately, Alfred has yet to find out. Now to keep it that way. OR Dick tries his best to parent Damian. Damian tries his best, period. They’re both a bit clumsy, but they’ve got the spirit. There might be a cat Meow ᓚᘏᗢ 💙💚

smiling and laughing through this whole fic THEY ARE SO SILLY I LOVE THEM

as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia

Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I'm not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology.

basically them putting into words their own funky lil dynamic!!

Let The Right One In by whaleofatime

Hot on the trail of Deadshot threatening mayhem in Japan, Dick and Damian find themselves going undercover as a father-son duo on House Hunters International. Deadshot won't be the only source of chaos in Tokyo this summer, and Dick's only a little apologetic.

okok kinda cheating here since they’re just undercover as dad and son lol BUT it’s such a fun read of the duo on a Japan trip (mission)!

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask." — Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

cheating again bc plot not focused on Dick and Damian’s relationship, but it’s there! really enjoyed the characterizations and dynamics here!!

soft clocks by dustorange

Side effects of being revived by Lex Luthor may include amnesia, going undercover into a high-level espionage agency, not recognizing your family, fighting your family, and dealing with the emotional weight and guilt associated with encountering said family. Ask your doctor if being revived by Lex Luthor is right for you. (a.k.a. Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he's alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. Inspired by this post by bigskydreaming.)

lol sorry another not focused on their relationship but!! came and stayed for the plot, then the Dick & Damian moments KNOCKED ME OUTT!!

#anon #fic #i just realized i never made an ask tag sgdhfh #sorry this took so long ive been hella busy and combing thru almost 400 fics is a lot hahagsfshdj #someone ask me for Dick and Damian during their Batman and Robin days lol THE BLUEPRINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAHH #but then there’s more fics after that era…ask for those too idk HAHA #ask

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apricotbuncakes · 2 months

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"How does donating to your GoFundMe support your Top Surgery?"

I'm glad you asked about this -> gofundme and how it works!

But first: if you can't afford to donate, REBLOG THIS TO HELP IT REACH MORE PEOPLE. You can also repost it to other sites or share directly with those you know can help! This helps a lot because I'm unable to constantly reblog and share it, limiting my reach to external communities.

GoFundMe, in it's most basic explanation, is a collection service that tracks how much money a certain fund has been donated to and holds onto it for the individual/group/organization until they withdrawl (or 'cash out') the money.

GoFundMe takes a portion of what is donated to keep their own business running, but most of it still goes to the person you intended to donate to! This is also why surpassing a goal when on a crowdfunding service is extremely important. If I got exactly 10,000 in donations, I wouldn't have actually made all of that money because of the portion that is taken out.

That said, it is still incredibly helpful! Of the money that I can receive from the donations, I can put that towards so many different things!!

Due to legislation and otherwise hostile environments being created for trans people across the United States (in what is rightfully being called a genocide, but I digress) I'm choosing to go the 'out of pocket' route for top surgery, meaning I'm not relying on my insurance for the procedure. Insurance can take significantly longer, and they have a limited number of people in network (aka people who accept my insurance for payment) that can perform this. It can also limit 'cosmetic' aspects, even if those things are considered standard practice, like nipple crafts.

Basically, by paying 'out of pocket' I'm allowing myself a shorter wait time because im not having to fight with insurance, or sacrificing quality over coverage.

Is crowdfunding my only option to cover this? No! I'm saving up what I can, but I work an hourly-wage job that is considered under livable wage even though it's above the minimum. I'm scheduled to work 116 hours at a part time job for college students, just in the month of March. Because I'm disabled in several aspects, this is taking a significant toll on my physical well being. I am in a better position than other people because I'm living with one of my partner's family who provides transportation, rent (housing), electric, and water utilities, and in trade I help with food through Food Assistance, a portion of the car payment, and my portion of the phone bill. I'm also paying back the minimum monthly cost for my student loans (though I'm working to get that paused for the time being). But I'm still not making $1,000 a month after taxes and bills, which means that without spending extra money, I'm only saving a few hundred a month on my own for this goal.

All of that means that I'll need to look into financing options, what are essentially loans for medical procedures. That's where the crowdfunding comes in. While I am able to make monthly payments to cover this, depending on the plan, interest can start up in under a year. With a $10,000 surgery (that price includes the estimated costs for doctor visits, tests/scans, the procedure itself, aftercare supplies, money set aside for bills while I can't work during recovery, etc) waiting to pay all of that after the interest has started adding could take literal years, and I'd be pouring more money than I can afford into it. By crowdfunding however, I would be able to get the surgery and prior/post supplies and expenses paid for, and then pay for most (if not all) of the finances/loans I took out for it after.

Basically, in my circumstances, the crowdfunding is being raised to help me pay the loans I need for this procedure off, amongst other expenses related to the surgery.

"But why do you NEED top surgery?"

Without getting into the statistics, or even legislative parts of it (and what may try to stop me from getting it by proxy), I'll stick to the facts of my individual situation.

My breasts are a literal pain in my back, and with Fibromyalgia (a disability that causes chronic pain, even when 'nothing' is wrong, a poor explanation but one that is satisfactory for this discussion) it just makes it that much worse. My breasts are rather large and are causing me a great deal of struggle to even breath properly because of their weight.

Even if that wasn't the case though, they cause me significant gender dysphoria, meaning my body is distressing me because it doesn't match my perceived sense of self as a man (or masc) person. Socially, emotionally, and mentally, they limit my transition and health, so removing them is in my best interest (my therapist even agrees). Getting this surgery done ASAP is a priority for me because of this, as well as the aforementioned growing hostility for trans people, and Anti-Trans legislation that feeds into that.

"What else are you doing to raise money?"

I understand that some people are cautious to donate money to someone who may not bring doing tbeir on effort to save money themselves.

As I said before, I'm saving what I can with my disposable income (or money that does not go directly to bills and expenses). I'm not spending on frivolous things (for me, that's eating out, new clothes, trinkets, subscription services or otherwise unneeded items). Unneeded items do not include pet supplies, medication expenses, NEEDED clothing (like weather appropriate clothes for the season), hygiene products like deodorant and soap, and other items that are not bills but are still needed.

But I'm also going to start applying for grant/scholarship money for trans people, or money I don't have to pay back. This money (should I qualify AND receive it) will go directly towards my surgery expenses so I don't have to pay as much money back on loans.

There is a chance I won't receive any of them that I apply for, which is why my gofundme goal is the total cost still, so I'm not low balling myself and having to raise the goal later.

If you really want to, I'm also opening commissions (three slots total). Because I'm packing myself to the brim with my main job, I won't be able to complete them as quickly, though I will work on them as frequently as possible. Commissions have the benefit of the money going DIRECTLY to me, so gofundme doesn't get a cut of it.

Have any other questions? My ask box and DMs are open!!

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nonbinarydeity · 1 year

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HI!! i love your blog sm--like, it's AMAZING. you and remcycl333 really revolutionized LOA for me--and i really like that you and i are similar (neurodivergent, spiritual, nonbinary, etc)!! i have a couple burning questions and i think you could really help me understand myself better. FTR ive had a lot of successes with the LOA but now im working on some more stuff (career, body, etc). that i think i have some reluctance about.

me and the bestie (my subconscious) can talk to each other. what's confusing me lately, though, is that when i have these inner convos i seem to always show up as the "old" me. for example, my desired voice (#transmasc moment) is much lower but my current voice sounds higher... even though i KNOW i have a new voice, i still naturally "appear" with my old body and talk in my mind with that higher voice. i can't tell if this is my subconscious trying to tell me that i should persist until i naturally talk with a lower voice in my 4-D, or maybe i'm just so used to being "old" me that it's just a habit for now (e.g., seeing yourself mentally as a kid even though you're chronologically 35)?? like, if i'm in the state of the wish fulfilled shouldn't i naturally know that i have (in my mind) what i wanted already?

** if i visualize, i can hear my new voice UNTIL the scene ends but as soon as that's done, i'm back to thinking with my old voice until i 'remember' or remind myself that i have a new one...... it doesn't help that i have to hear my old voice all the time when i talk to my family. i think i do a good job of dismissing the 3-D though, it doesn't really sadden me.

2. i have so many desires i literally cannot keep track. i keep adding more every day bc i always find more stuff that i want and while that's great, i cannot for the life of me figure out what is the best way to manifest all of them at once. throwing everything under the umbrella of "(i am in the state of having)/i have my perfect life" seems like a good idea, but if i start to think of something else on top of it does it matter if i switch to ONLY affirming for that?? i feel like i'm in the kitchen cooking something on all four burners and i worry if i take my attention off of one "dish" it'll burn (disappear). like, they're all cooking at the same time so they'll all finish eventually... i don't want to get exhausted by being like "omg i just thought of having better mental health" -> manifesting that + "omg i just thought of getting rid of my joint pain" -> "omg i think i should manifest not having limiting beliefs" -> manifesting that and then so on and so on...

AGAIN THAKN YOU SO MUCH i owe you my life 😭

Okay, this is so sweet frr 💕 ty so much for the ask!!

Okay, so from what I can tell, you're having a problem with your inner Self at the moment. You can imagine having what you want, but as soon as you stop imagining purposefully, you revert back to the old, is that right? So for me, there's a couple things you could do!

Ask your subconscious mind what to do about it/ if it can help you! This may seem obvious, but it's there to help, so it really can be the best solution!!

Let go of the old story in your mind. Your mind is your ultimate dwelling place, it's where you are the creator! If you don't want to sound like your old voice in your mind, you don't have to! Sit for a moment and imagine your desired voice, and when you finish, remind yourself that that is YOUR voice, that is the voice that you have. It can take a little bit of reminding to get your mind on the same page as you, but the more you practice the easier it will get!! You're just in a transition phase on your mind right now, just keep imagining having it and feeling fulfilled by it. Also, don't put weight on it if you do slip back, just let it go freely and switch back, with no judgement or guilt. That voice has no power over you, you have the power 💕

As for having way too many desires, I know how you feel 😭😭 The biggest advice I can give for this is: change your dwelling state of being! When you imagine having what you want, you can imagine as many things as you want - either at the same time or one after the other. You have no limits in your imagination!

Your subconscious mind already knows each desire you have, so the only reason you're imagining is to feel the fulfillment of having it, not to get it. When you start feeling fulfilled naturally, and as you continue to fulfill each desire in your mind, you will start to notice all of your desires coming to you effortlessly!

You are in control of your Self, and as you imagine having what you want more, the idea of having it and the state of fulfillment that comes with it will become more natural! Remember that you already have your desires in the 4D, your subconscious gave it to you already! All you're doing is getting into and maintaining a state of fulfillment because it feels good, which will get you your desires by proxy 💕

#answered asks #master manifestor #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #living in the end #manifest

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scibot9000 · 4 months

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top albums of 2023 for me. i dont have spotify so i gotta do this manually.

rankings approximate except the top one. links and thoughts under the cut

greenhouse - arc,regn

ok this may sound silly but: in the 90s, necros (among others) were making some rad tracker music with a very very specific synth sound and overall vibe that i simply have not heard since. this hits that for me.

"露華" necros md tracker idm revived. "spur" feels like it's that tracker sound, removed from tracker limits.

"føn", my second fav track, feels far more Halley Labs, but still carries a hint of that turn-of-the-century tracker spirit.

the opening track, "eko", is SO choice though. fav.

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DJ Shadow - Action Adventure

kind of fascinated with this! it’s extremely 80s but not always. “You Played Me” is just an 80s hit. i keep coming back to it lol (idk “when” you’d place “Free For All” but its also a fav) how is “Fleeting Youth” so beautiful

im really excited to see DJ Shadow enter the 90s in 2035 or w/e

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PROGedia - Diõscuri

prog hip hop? 6????

yeah that opening track grabbed me and did not let go. holy hell what a banger.

the aoty status is mostly carried on that, but like. it left an impression damnit.

feels like brainfeeder.

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Liminal Warp - Nocturnal Edge 3

downside: anime VO, mixed kinda loud too...

upside: INTENSE.

I've had "Reina" on loop for ages. easy fav, but the rest of the tunes Don't Slack. still deeply fascinated by "yag si urowak". it's like breakcore 2 or smth.

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Skrillex - Quest for Fire

I was really scared when i saw the number of features here but uhh... nope this went hard.

and also i didnt notice at first but one of those features is Joker. like... purple music Joker. and it's the best damn track on the thing.

"Xena" second favorite. insane drum production there.

---

Oneohtrix Point Never - Again

This covers the mind-exploding fringes of sampledelica but fresher. Or, actually... maybe that's too reductive.

I remember chimeratio hyping up "Locrian Midwest" specifically, and... yeah I can tell why. That's very him-flavored. The timbral selection is top notch. That last sentence applies to every other moment in every other track, though.

"Plastic Antique" would have murdered me in 2013.

---

Patricia Taxxon - TECHDOG 1-7

Of course this would grab me.

I would've just thought it was a delightful romp if it stopped at TECHDOG 1, but damn did it keep going.

"TETCTEHECDCHOHDGDOGOG" was an instant fav, but as time goes on, I keep finding new favorites. I think the build from birds to walls in "OCOTOCODCTCETDTHDEDGEHEGHGHG" is my fav as of writing.

That said, something that struck me imemdiately, got the most replays from me this year, from TECHDOG7: "THTCTHTOTHTCTHDHCHOHCECOCDCOGODOEODGDEDGDEGEGEGEG"

Never has a song so viscerally teleported me to a specific scenario: being a child, alone in a room without knowing why. I can feel the dust in the air. Insanely good.

---

Blawan - Dismantled Into Juice

Man.

This one hit my DNA.

The title track, "Dismantled Into Juice" not only is my fav here but it's influenced how i think abt music.

AOTY. ...EPOTY?

#wrapped

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deer-knight · 1 year

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Hello &! This may be a bit odd, and no need to answer if you choose not to. I've been playing DnD for a while now, and I absolutely love my character. They are primarily a rogue, but I multi class as a ranger a well. Anyway, I guess I'm just curious if you know any ways to be a real life, modern rogue. In any and all senses really. Style, attitude, practices, mindset, anything. I'd like to get into better shape and be more acrobatic, but I have chronic pain that makes that difficult. I'm not sure what else to try. Thanks for any insight!!

- 🦊

hey anon! this is such a fun ask. i would class myself as a ranger as opposed to a rogue, but depending on the book you go by they can be pretty similar. since rangers are closer to my own experience, i'll speak to that. i have a suspicion this will be a fairly long response, so i'll put it all under the cut.

style: now, i style myself the way i do for a lot of reasons, but the big two are: it's functional for my year-round outdoor job and lifestyle, and i like it. lol. so it's a lot of workwear, durable materials like canvas and leather, and natural fiber like linen, cotton, and wool. dark green is my favorite color, so a lot (and i mean a LOT) of my wardrobe is green and brown and black. this also means everything i own already matches and i don't have to know anything about fashion (or making choices related to fashion). but, obviously those earth tones also aid the ranger vibes. also, i don't buy any clothing new (underwear exempt), and i do a lot of repair and mending when i wear through stuff, which happens all the time. support your local secondhand shops, and take good care of the stuff you have so it lasts as long as possible.

attitude/mindset: these are similar so i'll group them. this one's pretty simple i think. having respect for the earth, and being part of its preservation and conservation is really important. that also means being aware of and knowledgeable about the history of the land, indigenous people, plants, and animals, and practicing good stewardship where you live. (i mean, i think everyone should do this, but especially if you want to style yourself as a ranger). get to know your local flora/fauna. even in urban environments, obviously there are native plants and animals that still live there. practice kindness. patience. work hard, and know your limits. especially with chronic pain. it's great to feel accomplished, but don't sacrifice your health for it. be resourceful - use what you have.

practices/skills: i'm adding skills in here. because i think rangers are generally skilled in the realm of wilderness knowledge. fire skills, tracking skills, camping, foraging, etc etc. are all important things i think rangers should be at least familiar with. these are all skills that take a long time to develop though. practice and persistence and experience will yield results. hunting skills would be excellent, and not something i've had an opportunity to explore yet. but archery is something i've done for over a decade now. a very good ranger skill. in the end, i think modern rangers are folks who are close to the earth and care about keeping it safe. restoration, indigenous rights and sovereignty, and conservation are priorities in doing so. living in ways that limit our footprint. being resourceful and resilient. knowing the land we live on. having wilderness skills. i think these are the foundations.

im not sure if this is what you were looking for, but it's what i've got. cheers! &

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daemonhxckergrrl · 1 year

Note

re: your ask from greyr4t about win10: as you said in your answer its free, just needs a key for 'activation.' ime activating win10 has been worth it. like you mentioned, it isnt strictly necessary, one can make do fine in a somewhat limited capacity with the watermark in the corner forever (unless your monitor is an OLED then have fun with 100% guaranteed screen burn in lmao. or unless always seeing it enrages you disproportionately. as in my case). but having windows activated is honestly just nice, it makes many things easier and is more sustainable in the long run... worth the extremely minor hassle as like a QoL thing imo. you also brought up that its possible to circumvent microsoft (and its brazenly insane asking prices 🤬) & buy cheap keys online from third parties. i wanted to talk about how i did shit, hopefully it helps the original asker directly or at least comes in handy to know

so i bought my (shady bootleg, yes, but perfectly functional for years now) win10 activation key for even cheaper than what Synthia listed as a price point- iirc, under 5 bucks USD. (might be higher now w inflation, but id be surprised if its much more than around 10.) if things still work how they used to, you can do this on ebay. technically ebays policies dont allow it, so the accounts selling these keys come and go frequently due to getting shut down by ebay after popping up. thus, dont necessarily be put off if the seller hasnt existed for long, as often thats just how it goes (or it did. hopefully this sort of thing is still going strong🤞); do trust happy reviews. now, there are a few TYPES of activation keys– priced slightly different, nothing big– that correspond to different editions of windows 10. so basically its home edition, pro edition, and "pro for workstations". might be worth finding a brief summary of each to determine which edition best meets your needs. (there are more editions beyond the main trio, look into those too if you want, but the tldr on em is theyre for like niche markets w/ highly specific use cases.) fwiw, i got pro & am happy with it. another thing, from personal experience: may or may not be obvious but you're gonna wanna save a screenshot of your key somewhere safe and accessible. additionally though, label the screenshot somehow so you know what it is later, and if youre a disorganized scatterbrain like i am then put that in multiple places you can reliably access so if/when youre having trouble tracking it down you know where else to look; it came in handy for me to have access to it in places both online (cloud storage like google drive or dropbox for example, or even just saving the email copy of the ebay mssg in the designated folder in your email for the ones containing info you wanna save) & off (physical note on paper, stored in the files on one or more personal devices, etc). theres a huge chance youll need it again in the future– like say if you want to upgrade certain hardware– and likely more than once. final advice: highly recommend looking into comprehensive ways of "defanging" and/or "lobotomizing" windows, as they say. i.e., a tip that gets circulated is doing the initial setup for windows w your pc in airplane mode / ethernet unplugged so you dont have to make a microsoft account so they cant create a profile on you to collect your data to sell off & target ads at you (which is obvi totally reversible later if you decide the benefits of having an account outweigh the drawbacks). shit like that, plus the loads of guides out there– many here on tumblr itself– on extensive fucking around in various settings to disable bloatware / preserve privacy / other useful stuff, that can get pretty granular. i think ive even seen Synthia herself reblog posts like that here a couple times, maybe? perhaps try checking relevant-seeming tags from the tagging system in her pinned, or do a blog search for the term 'windows' and see what all there is to find

phew, anyway, jesus christ! sorry this got to be such a long writeup!!! some of this blog's aggregate of resources have been a big help to me, so i wanted to try to pay it forward a little <3 and, Synthia, if you wouldnt mind, tagging the original asker in your response to this anon so that greyr4t is more likely to see all this would be very much appreciated by me!! ty in advance!! thanks also for your careful curation of useful info on this blog, plus the helpful posts and guides youve written here for us yourself 👍🌈

hi anon ! thanks for writing all this up !! lots of great points here - hopefully they help you out @greyr4t ! the airplane mode one is real important too if you care about privacy (and the fact you can't choose to make a local account during installation unless you are disconnected from the internet is awful and yet another dark pattern-type tactic.

i'm glad my blog's been good for you <3 (though i do need to go through and make all the important stuff a bit easier to access at some point)

iirc there's some reblogs on general privacy stuff (probably under one of the REPO tags and like "net privacy" or similar) as well as my own firefox post, and maybe more will happen in the future when i get to them

#Anonymous #DATA_REQUESTS #for greyr4t

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youtubepoop2009 · 2 years

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Hi! I saw your YS remake designs and became very curious; does it have a full story? Introductions to the characters? Any fun facts? Sorry if this is weird but I love your designs !

hi anon! first off just wanna say thanks for the message! so my yansim "remake" does have a bit of story, though its not totally complete or anything. since im gonna drop a ton of lore stuff here im putting it under the cut

so to start off i changed the setting a bit from YS, while a high school setting has some pros (clubs, easier to research, uniforms so i dont have to design an outfit for everyone) the fact that this limited their age wasnt jiving with me, so most of the characters attend a yobikou, a type of school where students prepare to take university exams, many of them graduated from high school but failing the exams the first time. this setting has some benefits as well (justifiable low student count, school exams gives most characters a motivation). some of the characters are still high school students though. also i drew everyone with a school uniform but im not sure yobikos have that so i may get rid of that (still researching lol). also this takes place in the (real) city of shizuoka in japan (bc i dunno if i can make up a city in a place ive never lived in).

the yandere in question is miyako umehara, who's about 18-19 and pretty much failed her entrance exams on purpose to follow her high school crush. on the outside she seems pretty sociable and kind, but (1) does not like to be inconvenienced/things not going as she plans, (2) she can manipulate people pretty easily, and (3) only fears consequences when they "blow her cover". on top of that she's very sadistic, jealous, and possessive, but she can easily mask this.

as for the "senpai" (not sure if this term is appropriate for setting?), his name is hizashi amano and he's 19-20. hes actually quite smart but failed the entrance exam twice (because of weird circumstances i havent figured out yet lol) and is now worried that his parents are about to stop supporting him. he is not as able to mask him getting irritated easily toward other people so others have the impression he is rude, but he really isnt and is actually pretty empathetic.

i also made a male counterpart to miyako and a female counterpart to hizashi, so like in YS (sort of) you could have whatever couple. i call them counterparts bc i didnt make them exactly the same, they have some differences from the original. for their designs i was trying to go for a sort of night/day dichotomy?

the first "rival" (who is kinda supposed to be like a tutorial rival if this was a game) is hizashi's younger sister honoka amano, who is a 3rd year high school student (they can sometimes attend yobiko part time). she can be considered a rival because she is sabotaging her brother's chances at getting an s/o as revenge for something trivial probably. she's unkillable, it's probably best for miyako to get her on her side anyway.

The rest of the rivals are romantic:

momoka amari - former cooking club leader (and shes godlike at cooking), sweet caring onee-san type, unfazed by hizashi's brashness. not really the academic type, loses track of time and naps frequently.

masami kanze - aspiring actress, relates to hizashi in that she feels she is soon to lose her parents' support, uses a haughty and conceited persona to cover her insecure and fragile inner self, despite this she doesnt look down on other people and those close to her say shes actually pretty nice!

ameya kurogiri - socially awkward, shy, and low confidence exterior that melts away when talking about her interests - the occult, supernatural, and sometimes religion. has a tendency to stay home for many days in a row

minato iwatani - avid photographer, funny, gets along with others easily, but seldom serious at the right times, has a strong sense of justice. usually distractable but unmovable when fully focused (male rival bc we need that tbh)

nami tsumura - ball of energy, always expressive, mastered swimming but enthusiastic about many different sports, can never sit still, studying is very boring to her but she is trying to make an effort recently

azami mutou - grown up high school delinquent, still gets in fights often, doesnt usually follow rules, constantly looks pissed off, did not use to care about school but was recently instilled with a fear of the future, bullied in middle school

yua shimizu - nursing student, job shadowing local/school(?) nurse, so focused on studies she can seem absentminded on all else and seems clumsy because of her nervousness, but still does her best to help out

sayami sakurai - hizashi's childhood best friend, recently moved back, receptive and kind, but deeply troubled by something, her scarf was actually given to her by hizashi, likes fashion and is very pretty

noriko tamaki - high school 3rd year, student council president, heiress to family company as her older sister was deemed a failure, overachiever, can kill someone with just her gaze probably

the older sister in question is yuka tamaki, sort of like info-chan in YS, harbours great resentment for her family and therefore sister so shes willing to help out miyako if her sister has *something* be taken away from her for once. she has a very plain and unassuming look, so she can blend into crowds and eavesdrop and sneak around easily

theres still some other characters, like the equivalents to the "dlc" yandev proposed, but the only concepts i took from that was the shrine maiden and other yandere bc the other ones were just too much lol (though early on i kept the twins lmao), i also had an idea for a non romantic teacher rival that is threatening to fail either miyako or hizashi (which would be like a sort of "game over") but thats pushing the limits of unrealism that i have going on already.

BUT YEAH THIS POST IS LONG ENOUGH so that was a kind of summarized version lol. thanks for sending the ask it legitimately made my day, love talking about my ocs so feel free to ask anything else!

#anon #ocs #ys remake #long ass post my bad

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poppy-metal · 3 years

Text

Demure

Wc: 4k

Pairing: eren jaeger x reader

Cw: car sex, fingering, emphasis on reader being innocent and a virgin. reader is armins little sister. corruption kink

you're 6 years old when you first meet eren jaeger. apparently he'd run off some people that were bullying you big brother, armin. you admire him and mikasa immediately.

you're 8 and he's 11 when you get a scrape on your knee from playing tag. eren runs into your mothers bathroom to fish out the first aid-kit, you know he just doesn't want you to tattle, you never would anyway, but he pulls out a pink band-aid with little ariels all over it and places it gently over the cut. he stays there for a few beats, soothing the skin around the hurt area with his thumbs. his big bright green eyes look up at you, "better?" and that's the first time your heart skips for a boy.

you're 11 and he's 14 when armin starts becoming protective. "he's had like. 5 girlfriends in middle school, who knows what he's gonna be like in high-school"

it intrigue you, for some reason.

you're 13 and he's 16 when he taps furiously on your window at night, wild eyed and wearing a t-shirt and sweats. he falls ungracefully on his ass when you let him in, though he grins at you from the floor. "thanks, squirt"

you wince at the nickname, knowing it solidifies you as someone only platonic to him. armins little sister and nothing more. "what's this all about?"

he gets up and swipes imaginary dust off his sweats, looking around your room. its absurdly girly. he picks up one of your plushies and tosses it up, then catches it, peering over at you and grinning. "i hope you never change," he sighs and flops down onto your pink sheets. "girls my age are fucking psychos"

you creep closer to him, snatching your plush back. "im sure there's something you're leaving out there. im not completely dumb, you know"

he waves his hand, "yeah but you're....i don't know? innocent or whatever. you don't care about shit like boys and drama"

i do care about boys, you think, watching the way his shirt rides up to expose a hint of tan skin. you look away, squeezing your plush to your chest. "im gonna grow up eventually, ren"

he sighs and sits up, looking at you from under his ridiculously cute floppy brown hair. "Just promise me you won't go boy crazy"

you roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he leans in and licks a broad stripe against your cheek with his tongue, grinning "we have cooties"

you swat at him and wipe your cheek, groaning and calling him gross. "i know that. you and armin never let me forget how gross boys are", you side eye him. "what did you even do? really?"

he looks to the side, only now having it in him to look the least bit sheepish, "my girlfriend may have caught me with my hand down historias skirt..."

"EREN JAEGER!!!"

yeah, boys really are gross. but not eren, no he's beautiful and magical and makes you feel all the fluttery things. but he's also a player, a bad boy, dangerous and completely off limits. maybe your crush should have ended there, but of course it didn't.

You're 15 when you go on your first date with a boy. until now you haven’t allowed yourself to even think about men outside of the enigma that is eren jaeger, but that’s a lost cause, a stupid crush you need to let go of. and despite what eren thinks, you’re not that innocent. not in your head anyway. you’re a girl and you have fantasies.

the guy is nice, armin likes him enough. big and tall and humble, reiner brought you flowers for your first date. the age difference is a little weird, he’s in erens grade, a senior, but you think its harmless. you’re turning 16 soon. the date goes well, you smile and giggle alot, and reiner seems smitten by the end of it. he even goes as far as to kiss your hand when he drops you back off at home, at 8pm sharp, just like he promised. he was kind and sweet, and you liked him, but you wonder what it means that there were no flutters in your belly, not like when you’re around him…

you’re still thinking about that when you open the door, and walk inside. the house is quiet, and you wonder where armin is, and eren. thinking they both must be in armins room, you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stopping on your path there when you see eren on the couch. he’s lounging back, hand idly wrapped around a gaming controller as he watches you.

you glance around him. “where’s mimmin?”

he doesn’t take his eyes off you. “annie called”, he leans forward a little, propping his chin in his palm as he observes you quietly for a moment.

you squirm in place, his eyes are too hot. “oh” and you make to start moving again but his voice stops you.

“so. braun, huh?” his tone is hard to discern, the words coming out cool and detached, but his eyes are that intense green.

“yeah” you say, shifting on your feet. “he was nice. kissed my hand and everything”

“sounds like a dream” and that is definitely said sarcastically. you bristle but eren is already turning away from you, facing the TV. “didn’t think he was your type though”

because erens been your type since forever, you guess he’s right. reiner couldn’t be more different in both personality and looks, but maybe that’s a good thing. “maybe he can be” you say softly, looking at your feet. you dont see erens eyebrows jump, or his lips twist disdainfully.

“If you wanna settle for missionary the rest of your life, then sure, go ahead” he sounds a little miffed and that confuses you. makes you look up. you don’t even know reiner that well, but you feel the need to defend him from erens usual snarky jabs.

“not every guy that doesn’t live on Xbox and fuck half the school is a bland guy” you huff. you feel a little guilty for calling him out but he started it. eren hated preps, that was obvious, but its not like he was a model person either, if his long track record of promiscuity was anything to go by. reiner wasnt boring he just…..wasn’t eren. but that wasn’t a flaw. It shouldn’t be.

“you been keeping tabs on me, princess?” eren asks wryly, smirking now. you just glare at him, quirking a brow and daring him to prove you wrong, to say he’s better.

he doesn’t. he just looks at you, sets his controller down and does that tick he’d developed since he was young of jiggling his knee, tapping his finger on it. “don’t go on more dates with him”

you squint your eyes, “and why not?”

“because i said so”

“you’re not my boss”

“because..” he scratches the stubble on his jaw, gaze looking far off as he stares at his bouncing leg. “guys shouldn't touch you”

your mouth pops open. you get that, right now, you’re too young for stuff like sex, but being touched? everyone your age had boyfriends, why should you be any different?

It feels a bit like deja vu when you tell him, “m’not staying innocent forever. dating and s-sex are apart of life. you do it, why shouldn’t i?”

you didn’t really get his whole overprotective bit, armin, who was your brother, wasn’t even this bad. he’d seen happy almost, when you told him about your date with reiner, even, so you really don’t see where eren is coming from.

erens lip curls in a smirk and he points a finger at you. “that’s why” he says. “you can’t even say the word sex without stuttering. what’ll you do when you see a cock for the first time?”

your skin heats, hating that he’s right. “I’ll grow out of it” you promise him.

he huffs a laugh. “sure thing, dork” but then his face gets serious. “you don’t need to change though. sex is lame, i promise.”

“you seem to have alot of it, so there must be something good about it”

“for me, yeah” he grins. “but im selfish. most men are, and you deserve better than some highschool tumble with a guy who looks like he can’t find the clit to save his life” his eyes weigh you down. “just keep bein’ you. If i come back from college and hear that you’re the towns tramp stamp, m’ not gonna be happy”

and that’s that.

you’re 16 when eren leaves for college. you get to 18 without ever being touched.

you’re 18 and you wish you hadn’t begged armin to let you come to this stupid bomfire party. it’s just the first time he’s been home in the 2 years since he’d left for college, and you know that means eren is back too, though you have yet to see him. he’s supposed to be at the party though.

you wonder if he’ll react to having seen you after not for awhile, if he’ll look at you different now that you’re grown. you’re wearing a simple pleated white skirt and a pink top, the picture of innocence you’ve always been, never changing.

being around so many people makes you uncomfortable, you want to cling to armins side, but you don’t want to be annoying so you tell him its okay to leave you. your eyes scan the mass of people on the crowded beach as you nervously hold your solo cup to your chest.

your eyes stop their nervous skittering when they land on someone familiar.

college eren is completely different and yet wholly the same since you’d last seen him. he’s wearing a red bomber jacket, over a black t-shirt and skinny jeans, scuffed converse kicking in the sand as he shifts from one foot to the other. you peep tan skin, a hint of a tattoo peeking on his neck and….and black hair. he’d dyed his hair, and, is that jewelry on his ear? rings on his hand?

he’s smiling easily with a pretty blonde and...and reiner. talking to them like old friends as he tilts his head back and laughs, taking a swig from his cup. he’s still chuckling and shaking his head when his eyes flick distractedly over, rove over you and then stop. even from all the way where you are the green of his eyes pins you in place. the warm glow of the bonfire dances across his features, and you see the bastard has a lip ring as well. he takes his time cataloging you and you do him, before his lips tilt, he hands off his drink and he makes his way over to you.

your whole body is tense with nerves as he gets closer and closer.

when he’s standing in front of you, the smell of his cologne wafts over you. his smile is small and genuine. “hey, pip”

pip as in short for pipsqueak. you have to fight the urge to grin at him, your cheeks warming pleasantly, even though you groan out loud. “m’ not little anymore”

“I can see that” eren eyes rake over you, linger on your bare legs before dragging slowly back up. his eyes feel like a caress and when they meet yours again, you’re already tingly. you’ve never been touched sexually, and just one look from eren has you wet between the legs like nothing. “still dress like you wanna be an extra in a Bratz commercial”

the tension disputes as you swat his arm. “shut up!! Its a fashion choice, not like you’d know. dressed like a wannabe rockstar”

“aw, c’mon. you’d be my groupie right?”

you roll your eyes. “you wish, jaeger”

“mm” he hums softly. “s’cute though. always has been”

before you can even register the compliment, he’s leaning forward to peek into your cup, swiping it easily from you. “underage drinking, are we? left you for a couple years and you go rebel barbie on me”

you squawk as he chugs all of your drink back in one gulp, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. “ren! I wasn’t even drinking it. It was..” you wave your hand around. “for the aesthetic”

“uh huh” he drones, but then he jerks his chin. “i’ll get you another one to stand around and look pretty with then. C’mon”

cute, pretty. the compliments are gonna make your heart fly out of your chest if he doesn’t let up. you follow him as he leads you to a keg, one that’s a little ways away from the bustle of the party, close to the parking lot where you came in.

you shyly say ‘thank you’ when he fills you a cup and hands it to you, proceeding to lean back against a car as he goes back to observing you.

to distract yourself you mumble, “you can’t just lean on a strangers car for the sake of being cool”

the grin is back. “you think im cool?” when you glare at him he rolls his eyes and slaps the hood of the car. “she’s mine, pip. you can untwist your panties”

you blink at him, “since when did you get a new car? and when did you dye your hair?”

he looks at you curiously, drumming his fingers. “do you not, like. follow me on instagram?”

you look away, kicking your feet in the sand. hesitantly you admit, “didn’t wanna miss you, so i didn’t look”

he doesn’t say anything to that. the silence stretches between you, making you nervous. should you not have said that? you guessed it was weird, after all, but it was true. If you’d looked at how erens life was progressing without you there to see it, you’d have cried and been a total lovesick girl about it.

he finally breaks the silence. “do you have a boyfriend?”

you look back at him. “uh...no? do you?”

the smirk you wanted ghosts over his lips again, and your eyes are drawn to his lip ring when he tugs it between his teeth. “nah, you know me. unattainable”

“yeah, i know” you say under your breath, thinking of how eren jaeger had been an unattainable fantasy for you for years.

“so no current boyfriend or…?”

“no boyfriends...ever” its embarrassing to admit, but less humiliating than admitting that the reason that was is because you’re in love with your brothers best friend, the very man standing before you now.

“that’s kinda tragic, pip” eren hops up on the hood of his car and fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. he waves a hand at you, “you’re rockin’ a bod like that and no one’s bagged you? thought you’d be beating down options with a bat by now”

you watch the smoke that plumes in the air, the way it coils and wisps, and really look at eren. he’s tragically beautiful. his no black hair is boyishly messy, tangled around his head in a dark halo. his face is sharp and tan, his eyes striking and making you feel like you’re sinking into the sand beneath your feet.

you’ve wanted him for so long, it makes you ache. years and years of pushing away men and declining confessions for this man in front of you. you’d never expected anything from him, but you couldn’t move past the fantasy in your head. couldn’t imagine giving any of your firsts to anyone but eren.

“you told me to stay innocent” its out before you can stop the words, they just fumble out, spilling from your lips and into the air like the smoke.

eren stills, pauses from where he’d been about to take another drag. his expression is unreadable. he flicks the ashes from the cig on the sand, stumps it out under his foot as he hops down. the wind ruffles his dark hair as he just looks and looks and looks at you.

“yeah?” and oh, jesus, if the rough gravel in his voice doesn’t make your cunt warm immediately. “and you listened?”

you squeeze your thighs together, an action that draws erens gaze between your legs. to late to back down now, you think, and wet your lips. “y-yeah. I did”

“you didn’t let any boys touch you while i was gone?” eren continues and he draws closer, creeping towards you.

you shake your head, silent as he comes in front of you. he reaches up to delicately push a strand of hair behind you ear with one of his ring fingers. he keeps it tucked behind your ear as he towers over you, staring you down. “you’re still my innocent little girl, huh?”

you wonder if this is how it feels to be seduced, seduced by eren jaeger no less. his eyes are warm, and they make you feel warm from where the rest on your eyes, and then, your lips. they part under his gaze, on instinct. “I am, ren. always have been”

his eyes darken, and the finger behind your ear becomes his whole hand sliding to cup the back of your head, slowly fisitng your hair in it. “shit” he tilts your head up. “you can’t say things like that, baby”

baby, baby, baby. your head swims. you’re on autopilot now, speaking without thinking and you think that’s good because if you were thinking clearly you wouldn't have the courage. “i’ve always been your good girl. no one elses”

you have one second to hear his exhale before his lips are crashing against yours, and oh. oh, he’s good. you feel the metal of his lip ring against your bottom lip as he slides his tongue in your mouth, eating you up.

“god, you’re sweet” he nips your lip. “knew you would be”

you pant into his mouth, your hands curling on his chest, “y-you’ve thought about me?”

“‘course i did, im not blind” he pulls away. “I just really like my dick and didn’t want it chopped off. armin is scary”

you know he can be when he wants to be, knows if he saw eren ravishing his little sister against his car right now, body parts would be strewn about. and that’s just from armins verbal warfare.

you look at eren demurely from under your lashes, “i don’t want anything to happen to your…” you trail off at the end.

erens eyebrows climb up his forehead, he presses close to you, tugs you to him. “my…” he prods, eyes glinting with mischief.

you look away, pouting. “know i can’t say it” you mumble, hating that even now, saying vulgar words is embarrassing for you.

erens chest shakes with a laugh. “you just sucked my tongue down your throat, pip, and you can’t talk about my cock? you’re precious, c’mere.” he starts walking backwards, towards his car. “we gotta be sneaky about it but-” he dips down to kiss you again, once, twice. “i really wanna touch you”

you gulp, and nod, let him pull you to his car and open the backseat for you, climbing in after you. he shuts and locks it behind him and then he’s facing you, eren jaeger giving you his full attention. looking at you like he wants you, like he’s seeing you, like he wants to do alot of bad things to you.

you place a shaking hand on his shoulder. “im- i dont know what to do..”

you want to impress him, but pretending you’re good at something you’re not won’t do that. eren doesn’t like liars anyway.

he scoots close to you, pulling you halfway onto his lap until you’re sitting comfortably against him. you bite your lip when you feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your ass under your skirt. one of his hands settles on your bare thigh, scooting it up just barely.

“you ever watch porn, sweetheart?” erens breath puffs against your ear and you squirm on top of him.

you push down your own embarrassment, resigning yourself to be a big girl and be honest. “s-sometimes”

“yeah?” god, why does just that word turn you on so much? “tell me what kind of stuff you watch when you touch your little pussy”

his vulgar words go straight to your cunt, at the same time his hand slides up your thighs and slips under your skirt. you close your eyes when you feel the tip of his finger trace over the band of your panties. “they’re always a couple..” you gasp when his hand dips inside, palm cupping over your pussy. “a-and the guy has dark hair..”

“Imagining anyone in particular?” eren teases, but you hear his breath catch at the same time yours does when he sinks one long finger inside. the folds around your slit part seamlessly around the intrusion, sucking his finger in like your pussy wants it there. “so wet, baby. keep talking for me?”

ever the good girl, you push through the tingles and the heat spreading down your legs, the slick sound of his finger fucking in and out of you filling the silent car as you struggle to find words. “s-shes always inexperienced. Its her first time and...and hes gentle” you moan a little when erens thumb comes to swirl around your clit, hips lips finding your neck. he’s teasing another finger at your tight entrance when you swallow another groan and try to keep talking like he’d asked. “he’s gentle but he takes. t-takes what he wants”

“mm” eren hums, tongue sliding against your skin. you gasp when the tip of his ring finger edges in beside the other one, stretching your tight passage around his digits in thorough little twists of his fingers. “that’s real good, baby. you like the sound of that, huh?”

eren hooks his chin over your shoulder, bunches your skirt around your waist so he can see where your little pussy is clenching and squeezing around him, clit engorged and throbbing for attention. when you don’t answer, he continues, using the slick dripping down your slit, gathering it and then pushing back into you. “I bet” he says, low, husky. “In those videos, he eats her out real nice, yeah? makes sure her little virgin cunt is wet enough to take his cock”

“y-yeah” you pant, holding his wrist but not pulling it away, pushing him more towards you. you’re starting to grind down against the pleasure, walls rhythmically fluttering around his fingers, fucking yourself on them without even knowing it. he curls them, and your head thumps back against his shoulder as you cry out.

“i’ll give that to you” eren promises, pumping his fingers faster, his other hand coming up to cup one of your tits over your blouse, giving it a squeeze. “gonna take you home after you cream around my fingers and lay you out on your bed” he kisses your cheek, holding you firm against him when you start to twitch and writhe. “lick this little flower open. wanna feel your thighs squeeze my face when i drink the cum from your pussy, get you all loose and wet and then i wanna feel you drip down my dick when i slide it inside”

“oh god, ren!” you jerk in his hold as you feel your orgasm crest over you, gushing down his palm, as you ride his hand, milking it as tingles shoot across your whole body. A milky, creamy film rests around his knuckles when he slides his fingers out of your weeping cunt, still pulsating and twitching from the come down.

he rubs the excess slick around your folds and clit, rubbing it in. you whimper and he chuckles and kisses your cheek.

you sag against him, fucked out. eren brushes some hair from your forehead and kisses it. “wannabe punk pounds sweet virgin pussy into her bed”

you look at him, confused and dazed “huh?”

eren grins at you. “s’ gonna be the name of our porno”

#poppy speaks #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #i hate this kinda but oh well #woof #eren jaeger imagine

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elysianslove · 3 years

Note

Hello! Could you maybe write something for sukuna with a dom s/o? He’s so cocky and that just makes me wanna see him put in his place lmaoo

oh my god ❤️👅❤️ also im sorry this is so late hdvjahd im losing track of requests i am so sorry pls forgive me

nsfw under the cut, my loves! <3

━ he’d agreed to this. you desperately want to remind him that, especially with the way he won’t stop glaring at you like you’d committed treason. as you tighten the rope on his wrist, securing his arms to the headboard of the bed and limiting his movements, you lean back, and stick a tongue out at him childishly.

“you do realize you’re only going to make things worse for yourself if you keep squirming,” you point out, and push your hips rougher against his. sukuna huffs, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he continues to glare at you. the first thing you’d done when you’d managed to convince sukuna of this had been to stuff his pretty mouth with your underwear, and he’d fought against it, his canines tearing through some of the fabric. eventually, though, he’d relented, somehow, and fell back against the bed.

wanna see your cute self try, he’d said. you almost want to laugh at where he is now.

you’d considered a blindfold too, but being deprived of his noises was more than enough. besides, you wanted him to watch as you ruined him, picked up apart piece by piece. honestly, you weren’t even planning for anything grand or over the top, nothing that could make him back out should you ask of him of this a second time.

humming to yourself lightly, you drag your nails along his chest, tracing the dark markings, before you reach his nipples. your hands massage his pectorals, your thumbs dancing over his nipples as they harden beneath your featherlight touch. ever so slightly, his chest heaves, and without warning, you grab his nipple between two fingers and squeezing roughly, enough to shoot pain thoroughly through him and have his chest buck up into your touch the tiniest inch. you hum again, nonchalant about what you’d just done, before dipping your head, capturing the hard bud between your lips, before pushing past and encasing it between your teeth, tugging sharply.

sukuna grunts above you, his hips swaying as if to push you off. his arms strain from above him, and it’s not that he’s fighting to let himself free. he’s fighting so he doesn’t accidentally tear through the bindings. it’s another reason you weren’t too wary when sukuna had agreed, because you knew, at any given moment, he could push you away and let himself go. but here he is, succumbing to you, leaving himself as vulnerable as it gets. the idea drives you wild with power.

mouth still latched onto his nipple, you glance up at him, only to find his head thrown back, his jaw tight around the fabric in his mouth. your brows furrow with dissatisfaction, and you unlatch your lips, shuffling up to him to grab his jaw in your hands, roughly shifting his head to have him gaze at you. at the look in your eyes, his own widen, before he frowns deeper and fists his palms. “i want you to watch,” you order him, but he doesn’t listen, urging his chin out of your grasp suddenly and looking away. even rougher than before, you grab his chin again, your nails digging into his cheek as you stare into his eyes. “don’t be a fucking brat,” you spit out. “watch.”

once confirming for yourself that his eyes will remain on you, your mouth finds its way back to his chest. this time, instead of fixating on one single spot, you leave a trail of wet kisses and darkening bruises all along, licking and sucking on wherever you could, especially the areas where his moans went up an octave, like his lower abdomen. finally, you come face to face with his dick, straining hard and proud against his stomach, the tip oozing a steady flow of precum. you give your lips an anticipatory lick, and watch as his hips buck up in excitement, but instead of reaching for his dick, you place open mouthed kisses along his inner thighs, decorating and painting him pink and blue and purple. his grunts are louder now, more desperate and needy, less careful. he bucks his hips up again, and angrily, you sit up, placing your hand directly on his hip, right next to where his throbbing dick lies untouched and twitching.

“stay still,” you sneer, and he growls loudly. a few incoherent noises and words tumble out, but you don’t bother to try and understand, only mesmerized by the way drool has spilled on either side of his face, smeared by his constant movement. his cheeks and chest are flushed, nipples perked up and back slightly arched. he looks so good. lost in a slight daze, you lower yourself again to his dick, and slowly, you grab it. one steady hand grasps it at the base, and sukuna outright whines when he finally feels the pressure, his head thrown back momentarily. until you bring your other hand up to the tip of cock, and graze your fingernails along the weeping slit, the pink of the head so alluring.

sukuna’s eyes widen at the feeling, and he shifts his gaze back to you, watching as your nails and the tips of your fingers dance along the skin of the tip, your other hand occasionally squeezing the base. both your hands are wet and messy with precum, and sukuna, for a humiliating moment, wonders if you were actually capable of making him cum like this. the embarrassment flushes his face even redder, and his hips push against the mattress, trying to get away from your touch.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” you tease, tutting lightly. “for me to touch you?” your grip on his is so firm, no movement shifts you whatsoever. his eyes widen further as the telltale signs of his orgasm approach, and fuck, fuck, fuck he does not want to cum like this. you can hear his chest heaving harshly, the underwear in his mouth completely damp from his spit and drool. he continuously makes shocked and almost scared noises? it makes the heat between your legs strengthen.

you lean forward slightly and press the flat of your tongue against what isn’t being stimulated by your hands, the muscle in your mouth running along the ridges and veins of his cock. you can feel his cock twitch and throb and jump and it’s so beautiful, sukuna’s the most beautiful like this.

you are, however, quick to change your mind about that when, unexpectedly and surprisingly, he cums, thick spurts of it staining the fingers that had been tickling at his tip. it travels weakly down his cock, which remains hard as ever in your right grasp.

with a grin, proud and satisfied eyes meet his, and you see a single tear slip out of his eye. no, he’s much more beautiful like this. absolutely ruined.

end note; got way too carried away rip. but i hope this satisfies some of y’alls fantasies even if it’s a little ooc 😼

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk sukuna #jjk sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #jjk sukuna x reader #sukuna smut

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alex-guerin · 2 years

Text

Diego...you're pushing this grant for a place that is "above the red tape"...I don't like the sounds of this. This...sounds military. It sounds...like it has something to do with the Manes men....I trust TWO (2) Manes men (...okay, potentially three (3)...Tripp is still an unknown in my opinion so far, though).

Yes! Good! Get 'im, Michael! Flint needs to have the snot beat out of him!

Oh Rosa...sweetie...you deserved so much better than what life has handed you. I hope you get better and nothing bad happens to you and that you and Isobel can be friends....

Kyle Valenti and Max Evans trying to be sneaky and searching Flint Manes' house for info not regarding the missing Sneaky Sneaky Codebreaker Alex Manes is just hilarious. Boys, hiding in a closet? Really? No kissing in there, okay? Kyle, last time you hid in a closet you and Liz ended up kissing....you don’t have a great track record for hiding in closets, Valenti.

"Dude. Anyone ever tell you you smell like rain?" Kyle...really? I just can’t with your dumbass. Really!!

Michael, beat the snot out of that smarmy no good rotten bigoted racist asshole that doesn't even deserve to be the slime under his brother's boots.

Okay. No. NO!! YOU BITCH! YOU DO NOT GET TO LIMIT MICHAEL'S TELEKINESIS AND BLACKMAIL HIM INTO BUILDING YOU A FUCKING BOMB! YOU BITCH!! YOU HELPED TO KIDNAP ALEX! LIZ! ROSA! KILL YOUR MOTHER! SHE'S BAD AND WICKED!!

Maxwell. You are becoming a junkie on Liz's antidote...this is not good. Not good at all...

Kyle Valenti. How did you go from high school jackass to such an adorable, sweet dork?

And omg I am legit terrified for my precious Michael. Like, he's being forced to help build a bomb that will ultimately kill him, Liz, and Max. And probably Rosa. And potentially even Mimi Deluca and Maria Deluca. Depending on how much alien DNA is still present in them? Remains to be seen on their front...

I love the love-hate relationship between Isobel and Maria. It's fantastic.

"If disaster doesn't strike, justice can't be served" there's something wrong with that sentence...Michael, figure it out for me. And then beat the snot out of Helena Ortecho. And Flint and Jesse Manes just for good measure.

Nope. I change my mind about Diego. I don't trust him.

And that had better not be my Alex chained to a fucking radiator!

It is! It's my baby! And Michael found him! And they're hugging!! And Michael was worried about him!

"Your leg..." "Yeah, they took my prosthetic. I tried to bludgeon my brother with it" omg Alex Manes how are you so fucking perfect??

MY BABIES!

"She's avenging her murdered lover," "Oh my God, I love a good Tela Novela" Isobel, seriously? Alex is still in trouble, dammit! That thing will target Manes blood! ...my only hope is that it takes Flint along with it....

"He wants the parades, he wants the medals..." all I hear in my head is Tony Stark, "He's a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades. He wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered...son-of-a-bitch..." which oddly seemed to fit with Liz's line of thought there...

Have I mentioned that I love Sanders, lately? May nothing bad ever happen to the man who tried so hard to adopt Michael but was refused every time...

Also, definitely definitely no longer trust Diego. He is NOT good peoples. Screw him! I hope he gets his!

Noooo! No good can come from this!

Max Evans, how many times are you going to die? Is this going to become a running season ending? You dying somehow? Did you at least take out Flint, first?

"You know what he is, son." "I know what he means to Alex." Bless you Gregory Manes! Bless you! May the sun forever shine on your beautiful soul.

Omg Maria got a dose of the alien destroying bomb...not good. Not good at all...I may not like her being with Michael, but I do like her and want her to be okay!

GREGORY MANES! YOU BEAUTIFUL PRECIOUS THING!!! YOU SAVED ALEX AND MICHAEL!!! ...I just hope you don't get sent away for killing your father. Self-defense plea?

...people are calling Jesse Manes a...savior? WHAT. THE. FUCK???

Diego, you need to leave. Go away. Leave now. Be gone.

Michael and Alex destroying the shed is *chef kiss*

Weirdly enough, I ship Liz/Max more in the reboot than I did in the original series. That's weird, right? Like, original series I was totally Michael/Maria and was eh over Liz and Max. Reboot I am all for Liz and Max and much of the no for Maria and Michael. It's weird. I know it's weird. Shuddup.

Yes. Good. Break up. Because Michael belongs with Alex. How many times must I scream this? THEY’RE COSMIC!!!

"It's as if we were built from the same star. Brought together by something cosmic..." uhhhh sooooo...Alex's great uncle Tripp had a cosmic connection to Michael's mom? I have so many questions but none of them matter because THEY'RE COSMIC!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

I love the awkward look between Michael and Alex after Alex read that line and Isobel is just sitting there all dreamy thinking how romantic it is. While those two are like, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....."

Jenna Cameron you are perfection. That is all.

"I am vaguely uncomfortable with this description of my mom tasting ice cream for the first time..." lmao! That or are you vaguely uncomfortable with the fact your mom and Alex's great(great?) Uncle were uh...rather close?

Yuuup. They were definitely close! O.o so weird seeing og Max Evans as a human falling for an alien! My brain is getting so screwed lol!

Max...I'm not sure if Liz is going to forgive you for blowing up her lab, even if it was for her (and yours, Michael, and Izzy's) best interest because Diego is scuuuuuuuum!

Waaaait...waaaaait...no. Is Max....Tripp and Nora's son?? To the Google I go! Tell me your secrets Google....

The Google tells me no, Max is not Nora and Tripp's son. I guess that's kind of a relief...

Awwwww! Charlie and Jenna!!!

"I apologized. I STOPPED." Did you tho, Liz? Did you? Because I don't think you did.

Max, you did kinda have that coming...

Omg...omg...omg...Alex singing. Alex. Is. Singing. I...think I'm totally in love!!!

My baby! MY BABY!! SINGING A SONG FOR MICHAEL! I CAN'T! OH GADS!!

*shrill screaming that breaks the windows of every house on the block*

TYLER BLACKBURN WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO HAVE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL VOICE AND MAKE ME FEEL THINGS?!?!?

OH GODS! THE LOOK BETWEEN ALEX AND MICHAEL!

��🎵You never looked away, now I can't look away...🎵🎶

Oh my God...I am legit crying over Alex's song. Someone please tell me Tyler has the full thing released somewhere? I'm running to Youtube to check...

OMG IT'S ON YOUTUBE!! I AM SCREAMING AND SOBBING!!!

IT'S ON PANDORA,TOO??? AHHHHHHHH!!!! *screams in sobbing mess*

I know how this episode ends...I don't think I can bring myself to watch Michael leave the bar and see the heartbreak on Alex's face...I just...y'know what...gonna skip the rest of this scene. Can't see my baby's heart shattering knowing Michael left before the end of the song. I'm just gonna download this song and listen to it on repeat for the rest of my life. Goodnight all...

#roswell nm #roswell new mexico #alex manes #michael guerin #max evans #isobel evans #kyle valenti

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate!

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing.

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file.

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack.

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet.

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves.

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens.

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.”

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master that we will be taking the rest of the day off.”

“We?”

“Of course.” He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep.

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves.

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely. It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist.

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler.

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.” He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply. He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.”

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face. “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.”

“By what?”

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders. Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others.

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage, just his regular old human.

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too.

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?”

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild. Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless. You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot.

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.” Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!” He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!”

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly.

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted.

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!”

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck.

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods.

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

#obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me #requests

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foilfreak · 3 years

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore. The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

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paterson-blue · 3 years

Text

Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

______________________________________________________________

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#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x oc #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated!#clyde logan x original female character #tori writes

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the-irken-pony · 3 years

Text

Hi I wrote a self-indulgent copperright fanfic based on a daydream

I totally didn’t learn the rules of poker just so I could write this fic what are you talking about

Quick summary: (Takes place during Terrence Suave’s time) Four Toppats opt for an afternoon of poker, but the group notices their friend acting unusual after a brief conversation with the chief’s right hand man.

Word count: 1998

Warnings: Gambling

“Alright, Macbeth, how much are ya putting in?” Gordon Smith smirked, fanning himself with the playing cards in his hand. “Unless you’re doing the wise thing and dropping out now.”

Mr. Macbeth huffed, skimming over his current stash of bills. “Hold yer horses, I’m tryna think.”

The man directly across from Macbeth grunted. “Let ‘im take ‘is time. He wouldn’t wanna drop out if he didn’t ‘ave to.” He gave a quick glance down at his hand; luck had favored him enough to grant him a straight flush, one of the best possible hands. “Could afford to think a little faster, though.”

Mr. Macbeth growled. “Alright, alright, fine.” Macbeth downed the rest of his soda and pushed forward half of his current earnings. “$600.”

“You sure about that?” Sledge MacRush raised his eyebrows. “When did you get so bold?”

“When y’all decided that rushin’ me was a better idea than just waitin’. Six hundred, final answer.

“Hm. Very well then. I’ll match you up on that. What about you, Smith?”

Smith chuckled sheepishly. “Aw man. I’m gonna have to drop out on this one. Promised Charlotte I wouldn’t bet more than $500 at a time.”

“What!? Come on, mate, you shoulda said somethin’ sooner!”

“Haha, yeah, I guess…”

“Well, after this round we can establish a limit.” Sledge gave him a sympathetic smile. “That leaves you, Red. You droppin’ out, too?”

“Nah, might as well stay. $600 for me as well.”

Of course, Red wasn’t actually the man’s name. People only called him that because of his naturally orange facial hair. People called “Red” all sorts of things, since he never gave his name out to anyone, not even close friends. He had to admit that he was hoping to have gotten a more consistent nickname by now, much like other Toppats. Even so, constantly changing nicknames was still better than telling someone his real name.

“So then, everyone else has bet already, eh? Alright, then, reveal your hands… now!”

Everyone around the table booth (except for poor Smith) laid their hands out on the table. Seeing the straight flush that the mustached man had laid out on the table, Sledge and Macbeth groaned as the nameless man chuckled.

“Maybe don’t put in half your cash next time,” he sneered.

Sledge huffed. “Remind me why we invite you to these things again?”

“Because you wouldn’t admit defeat if it left you stranded on an island with no way off.”

Sledge glared at the ginger from across the table as Smith let out a small chuckle.

“Touché.” He gathered up the cards and began to shuffle them. “Macbeth, you goin’ first this time?”

“Ahem. Excuse me.”

The group looked up from their game to see who had spoken. Standing next to the table booth was the chief’s new second in command, holding a clipboard and pen. He had only had his job for a week, but some Toppats were already calling him “the chief’s only good decision”. Admittedly, it was easy to see why just from a glance; he always stood in a very dignified manner, and every aspect of his appearance gave a sense of formality and professionalism--save for the bags under his eyes.

“Oi, Reginald, can it wait? We’re kinda in the middle of somethin’ ‘ere,” Sledge said as he continued to shuffle.

“Well, can you put it on hold? This is kind of important,” the right hand man replied, tapping his pen onto his clipboard.

Red shot Sledge a glare from across the table, prompting the latter to set down the deck of cards.

“Ignore him. Whatcha need, then?”

“What? Oh, right, right…” Reginald flipped through a couple of pages of his clipboard. “Mister Gordon Smith, the leader is sending you undercover tomorrow, and would like you to spend tonight preparing.”

“W-wait, tomorrow?” Smith stammered. “Why!?”

“Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know,” Reginald yawned, rubbing his eyes. “He hasn’t given many details, he’s just said that he’s sent one other person already.”

“Why not pick someone else!?” Mr. Macbeth snapped. “It ain’t like everyone else’s busier than he is.”

“Easy, easy. I don’t mind doing it,” Smith assured him. Macbeth grumbled something under his breath as he crushed his empty soda can in his hand. Sledge crossed his arms and pouted. Seeing how tense the table was, Red cleared his throat to speak.

“So… one week into the job already, eh? How’sat been goin’ for ya?”

“I probably shouldn’t answer that,” Reginald muttered, looking over his clipboard. The redhead sat in uncomfortable silence, trying to think of a good response.

“…Cool.”

“Anyways,” Reginald said, “that’s all I needed from you. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Alright, thank you,” Smith replied. The group watched as the man left the table while staring at his clipboard.

“Guess we’ll leave it up to you, Smith,” Sledge said. “Do you wanna keep goin’ or would ya rather get an early start on prep?”

“Well…”

As the others discussed Smith’s plans for the day, Red watched the chief’s right hand pour himself a cup of coffee, drink the whole cup in one gulp, and then pour himself a second cup before putting in additives.

He furrowed his brow. How little sleep was the man getting? Given the chief’s current track record, it did make sense--other elite members often said that Reginald was eager to please, after all, but it seemed that the whole clan rested on his shoulders. He had only gotten brief glimpses of the right hand man in the past, but when he did he was always by himself hunched over a series of papers.

Yet, despite everything, a mere glance at him would give no indication of a struggle. He kept himself so professional-looking and neat; he always wore a fancy suit, and his mustache was styled to curl upwards at the ends. And that wasn’t even mentioning his delicate yet dignified posture whenever he stood or talked to--

“Oi!”

Red felt a sharp flick against the back of his head, yanking him away from his thoughts. He turned and glared at the man responsible, rubbing the spot where Sledge had flicked him.

“Ya awake over there, Foggy Eyes? We’ve been talkin’ at ya for like a solid minute now!”

“Oh, uh, were you?” “Foggy Eyes” sheepishly cleared his throat. “What’s up, then?”

“We were discussin’ plans with Smith.” Macbeth nodded his head in Smith’s direction.

“I’m good with going for one more round, if everyone else still wants to,” Smith said.

“Oh. Well, deal me in, then.”

“Alright, nice!” Sledge picked up the deck and began to shuffle.

“So what were you staring at over there, anyway?” Smith asked, lifting his head up to see over him.

“What? I wasn’t starin’ at anything.”

“No, ya definitely were,” Sledge chuckled as he combined two partial decks of cards. “You kept starin’ in the same direction since that guy left.”

“I-I just… zoned out, is all.” The ginger was starting to get nervous. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

Macbeth squinted. “You’re actin’ awful strange…”

“Keep talkin’ and you ain’t gonna be actin’ anything,” Red snapped.

Next to him, Smith was deep in thought. “Sledge… say that last part again…?”

The ginger could feel himself getting warm. “W-wait, no, don’t--”

“‘You kept starin’ in the same direction’?”

“Nono, after that.”

“Don’t--”

“‘Since that guy left’?”

“Yeah, heh. That.” Smith nudged the hunched up man sitting next to him. “That have anything to do with anything?”

“Uhhhh…” The man slightly lowered his hat to try and obscure his face, which was already turning noticeably red. Sledge snickered.

“Oh, I see what’s goin’ on here,” he said with a smirk. “You don’t happen to fancy the chief’s right hand man, do ya?”

“I-- O-of course not!” he sputtered. “I-I just-- M-Macbeth, c’mon, back me up here, will ya?”

“Man, you were red as a tomato ‘fore anyone even said anythin’.” Mr. Macbeth leaned back in his seat. “I couldn’t defend ya if I wanted to.”

“Shut up, I was not!”

“Come ooon, admit it already!” Smith gave the flustered Toppat a light shove. “It’s not like we haven’t already caught on.”

“I-I, um-- I--” He pulled his top hat down over his face, which had risen to an unbearable temperature by this point. “I-I don’t-- I dunno, I…” he mumbled, getting quieter with every word, “I-I guess he’s, uh… k-kind-- kinda… sorta… r-really… c-cute…”

Sledge burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh man, I knew ya had a thing for ‘im, but I didn’t know it was that bad!”

“I-it is not…” By this point, the man’s face had turned to a brighter shade of red than his mustache.

“Well, go on,” Smith urged. “Whaddya like about him?”

“Mmmmrrrmmmppphhh…”

Mr. Macbeth couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Gotta admit, never woulda ‘spected to see ya like this any day of the week.”

“Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup…”

Smith laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Well?”

“Ohhh my goood…” Red swallowed, trying desperately to compose himself. Knowing there was no way he was getting out of this, he forced himself to speak. “W-well, there’s, uh…” He couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the right hand man’s various features. “Th-there’s his-- his mustache, I-I guess… and-and his voice…”

Remembering that he was with three other people, he cleared his throat.

“Alright, all of you, listen.” He glared at the three Toppats. “Word of this gets out to anyone, and I’ll blow all your heads off. Understood?”

“Alright, alright,” Sledge laughed. “Wasn’t plannin’ on tellin’ anyone anyway, lover boy.”

Red froze. “I-- L-lov--!?” There were at least one hundred different insults he wanted to retort back, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a single word to come out.

“Aw, don’t take it too hard, man,” Smith said. “If it means anything, I’d say you’ve got a shot.”

“Would ya?”

Smith placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, sure. I bet you two’d be really cute together,” he sang while nudging the ginger, who buried his flushed face in his hands.

“Oh my god, I hate you so much…”

“Alright, you two, enough already,” Macbeth told them. “Y’all’re gonna kill ‘im at this rate.”

Smith giggled. “Okay, okay. Really though,” he told Red. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Take it from me--it took me years to ask Charlotte out on a date, and just last week we celebrated our second anniversary.”

The man smiled a little. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Smith looked down at his watch and frowned. “Oh man, I completely lost track of time, I gotta get ready.”

Sledge rubbed the back of his head. “I suppose that’s gonna mean you’ll need your phone back, then?”

“Yes, Sledge.” Smith crossed his arms. “Yes it will.”

Macbeth rolled his eyes. “I really don’t understand why ya keep takin’ it from ‘im.”

“It gets better signal than mine…” Sledge replied, hunching his shoulders defensively.

“There are better phones than his, y’know,” Red snickered.

“I can get his easier,” Sledge huffed. “Whatever. I’ll come along just in case it got lost in my room somewhere.”

“Thanks.” Smith glared. He turned to Red. “Anyways, keep your chin up, mate.”

As the group gathered their earned cash and got up to leave, Red’s mind drifted back to the chief’s right hand man. Whenever he saw him during work hours, he was always by himself. He didn’t ever see him not working either. Did he not have anyone else to help him with the workload? Or even to talk to?

Maybe Smith was right. Even if they didn’t start going out, he at least deserved someone to talk to and help him manage his workload. There was no good reason for him to have to do it all alone.

“Ahem.”

The group turned to Mr. Macbeth, who was standing next to the table, which was covered in scattered playing cards.

“Any of ya gonna help me get these?”

The group exchanged glances with each other.

“Nah.”

#thsc gordon smith #sledge macrush #mr macbeth #right hand man #reginald copperbottom #copperright #henry stickmin #the henry stickmin collection #thsc #fanfiction #tw gambling #shipping #oneshot #mine #ask to tag anything else

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