#with the added nostalgia and melancholy and longing so

[sapnapstummy]

I really appreciate you going back and rebloging older clips, photos and art, it's such a nice surprise to see on the dash, not many people are doing that! It's nice rewatching stuff like that and remembering the moments!

Awww thank you <3 nostalgia trips are one of my fav things to do :] I've been in the fandom for a long time and I find it so nice to share older clips that I've forgotten about with people who mightve never seen them

#youre so sweet #i do get a little melancholy when i see people who havent been active in while #but that comes with the territory of nostalgia #gonna get a little ranty in the tags real quick #but streams and videos from 2020 were/are some of my favorites #i love the dteam now so much and they're such a huge comfort for me #but back in 2020 they were newer to me and they were adding new dynamics with karl and quackity #plus dteam and tommy and tubbo used to interact a lot it was so fun #eras come and go and people are always going to prefer some over others #and im so glad to have been here for so long and to have been able to grow alongside the dteam #at the root were still the same but weve all grown so much and it makes me really happy #and im so excited for whats to come next :] #blazeanswers

[shebunie]

Can you do Mizu x British fem reader? So what happens is that mizu and reader got together (romantically) when they were back at London but whens mizu done with her quest she's goes back to Japan but with the reader. Reader and mizu goes to see everyone/friends that they know and their shocked (or you can choose depending on the person/character) that Mizu brought the reader also Mizu is very protective of reader and you continue off that if you want! Also can you do some lime to? 🤭

𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗵!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗧𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗻. 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗶𝘁, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟮.𝟳𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵𝘆, 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘁. 𝗥𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘀𝗼 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲

"Spring is nearly at its bloom," Mizu remarked, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia as both of you strolled through the bustling streets of Kyoto. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, casting a delicate pink hue over the city. 

"The beauty of Kyoto in spring is truly something special," The sword wielder continued, her fingers lightly tracing the petals of cherry blossom as you passed by. "Each year, it feels like a renewal, a fresh start."

“You’ve always told me stories about its beauty but witnessing it in person, truly you did not give this sight justice with your words.” you teased the swordswoman, The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of the blossoms, and the distant sound of a shakuhachi flute added a melodic touch to the atmosphere.

Mizu giggled, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. "Perhaps, some things are better experienced than described." She glanced at you, her hand finding yours as she led you through the vibrant streets.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the streets, the blue-eyed warrior’s thoughts seemed to drift momentarily, a subtle melancholy shadow passing across her face. The journey she had embarked on, seeking vengeance for the discrimination she had to endure, had been long and arduous. But now, with the vendetta behind her, a new chapter awaited.

"There's a place I want to take you," she said mysteriously, her eyes regaining their usual determination. As you continued your stroll, the two of you reached the outskirts of Kyoto, heading towards Kohama. Mizu's steps became more deliberate, a mixture of anticipation and a tinge of hesitation in her demeanour. 

Sandals shifted on the dirt path, eyes as vibrant as the morning sky after early morning passed and looked down to that small little house. A sense of warmth, comfort, and familiarity washed through her as both of you slowly walked down the steep hill, Mizu gently lending a hand for your safety. Eventually, you arrived at the cabin, Mizu exhaled deeply as she approached the home with her hand tightly wrapped around the strings of her hat.

“I’m sure they’d be delighted to see you back alive, Mizu” you assured her, fingers tracing along the lines of her calloused hand. She nodded, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension in her gaze. The memories of this place were both tender and bittersweet.

She need not have to practice her words. Swordfather consistently extended a warm welcome, contrary to the doubts that lingered in the recesses of her mind. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake off a peculiar sense of obligation to Ringo. 

The door to the cabin opened hastily, revealing a tall yet chubby man, head wrapped with white fabric their eyes widened in surprise and then quickly filled with joy as they saw Mizu standing there. 

“Mizu!” The large man, who unexpectedly embraced her and hoisted her off the ground, exclaimed with joy, "You're back! A-And alive!" Ringo squeezed Mizu so tightly that the pain from her healing bones and wounds shot through her, though she was relieved not to feel indebted to him anymore. She grunted in response. 

“If… you don't put me down, n- neither of us will be," she warned, gritting her teeth. Ringo chuckled heartily, finally setting Mizu down but kept his stubs on her shoulders, as if making sure she was real and not just a figment of his imagination. Mizu couldn't help but grin at his exuberance, appreciating the genuine warmth that emanated from him.

Ringo’s eyes wandered to the figure beside his master, there you stood, with a soft smile on your painted lips, eyes emitting a gentle glimmer. “You brought a girl! - A pretty girl.”

You chuckled at Ringo's enthusiastic remark, recognizing the jovial tone in his voice. Mizu shot him a playful glare, but he seemed oblivious, still beaming with joy at Mizu's return, as her hand found its way to the side of your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It seems Mizu didn’t lie about your cheerful attitude, you’re too harsh for calling him annoying.” you voiced.

Ringo's expression shifted from joy to curiosity as he shook your hand vigorously. "Well, Mizu has never been one to bring just anyone around. You must be special," he declared, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Mizu rolled her eyes, used to Ringo's playful banter.

"Special or not, just don't let him talk your ear off with his stories. You'll be begging for silence within minutes," Mizu teased, earning a mock offended gasp from Ringo.

"Hey now, my stories are legendary! People travel far and wide just to hear them," Ringo defended himself, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. Mizu and you exchanged amused glances.

"Legendary for their length, maybe," Mizu retorted, earning a laugh from Ringo. As the three of you walked together, Ringo couldn't help but throw in another comment. "So, Mizu, spill the details! Where have you two been? Any epic battles? Dramatic rescues?" he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Mizu sighed, but there was a fondness in her eyes. "We've had our fair share of adventures, but not every tale is meant to be shared, Ringo. Some things are better left unsaid."

Ringo nodded solemnly, then grinned. "Of course, a samurai never reveals its secrets.” You chuckled, realizing that Ringo's friendly personality added a lively touch to the atmosphere. Sounds of something thudding against the ground interrupted the reunion, as your gaze settled on an old man.

“Swordfather.” Mizu greeted with a sudden stiffness. 

Swordfather looked at her his brows furrowed and his lips thinned. He hummed as he simply stared for a few tense moments. Mizu blinked softly, she nodded and he exhaled deeply. “This house is getting too crowded…” He muttered in slight annoyance and Mizu couldn’t help the relief she felt as she smiled at him.

You observed the interaction, noting the subtle dynamics between Mizu and Swordfather. Despite his initial gruff demeanour, there was an undeniable connection between them, an unspoken understanding. 

Bowing respectfully, acknowledging Swordfather's presence despite his blindness. His acute hearing allowed him to perceive your gesture, and he responded with a nod in your direction. "A new face, what brings you here?" he inquired, his voice calm but carrying a certain weight that hinted at his years of experience.

Despite being blind, his movements were sure and deliberate. He relied on the sounds around him, the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of the village, and the footsteps of those around him.

You introduced yourself, explaining the circumstances that led you to Mizu during her travels in London. Swordfather listened intently, his head tilting slightly as if to better focus on the sound of your voice. "Hmmm," he mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "In these troubled times, it is not uncommon for destinies to intertwine. Mizu has a habit of attracting interesting companions."

Ringo laughed, "You have no idea, Swordfather. Our friend here is not only interesting but quite skilled, too."

Swordfather's blind eyes seemed to fixate on you, or perhaps it was a mere coincidence. "Skills are valuable, but character is what truly matters. Mizu has a keen sense for both." His words carried a weight that hinted at years of wisdom and experience.

As you approached the entrance of the house, the aroma of incense and the soft murmur of the wind chimes welcomed you. Swordfather navigated the familiar surroundings with ease, relying on the sounds and textures to guide him. Mizu led him to his usual spot, a serene corner where he could listen to the world around him.

Once seated, Swordfather leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Mizu, my ears tell me you've brought more than just stories back with you. There is something else in the air, a shift in the wind." 

Mizu hesitated for a moment, exchanging a knowing glance with you, as if silently communicating something that went beyond words. She smiled, a subtle yet genuine expression that betrayed the unspoken connection between you two.

"Yes, Swordfather," she replied, her voice carrying a warmth that echoed her feelings. "I've encountered more than just tales during my travels. Fate has intertwined our paths in unexpected ways." She gestured toward you, introducing you in a manner that went beyond a mere recounting of events.

Swordfather's sightless gaze seemed to linger in your direction, as if trying to perceive something beyond the physical. "The dance of destinies," he murmured, "A connection that goes beyond the surface. Tell me, what is it that draws you to Mizu? In the realm of the heart, there are melodies that even the blind can hear."

There was a moment of vulnerability, a shared recognition of the emotions that had blossomed during your journey together. You took a breath, choosing your words carefully.

"Swordfather, in Mizu, I've found a kindred spirit," you began, your voice steady. "Our journey has been more than just an adventure. It's been a discovery of shared dreams, a dance of two souls finding harmony. There's a connection that transcends the ordinary, a bond that defies explanation."

Swordfather listened intently, his expression unchanged but a subtle nod indicating his understanding.

"In this life, sometimes the heart knows paths the mind cannot fathom," Swordfather spoke, his words resonating with a deep understanding. "Cherish this connection. For in the echoes of your hearts, you may find the strength to face the challenges ahead."

As the conversation shifted, the atmosphere in the room carried a new depth, a sense of shared understanding that went beyond the spoken word. 

Just as the poignant moment settled, the shoji doors slid open with a sudden force. The ambient peace shattered as Taigen, stood in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room until they locked onto Mizu, who had been standing quietly beside you.

"Mizu!" Taigen exclaimed, his voice cutting through the hushed atmosphere. "We have unfinished business, you and I. A duel was promised, and I've come to collect."

"You again?" 

Taigen's eyes narrowed, his focus unwavering on Mizu. "Forgive me, Swordfather. But a promise demands satisfaction. Mizu, do not deny me what is rightfully mine."

Mizu stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I have not forgotten, Taigen. But do you have to be such a pain in the ass?” Taigen scoffed, unsheathing his blade with a sharp metallic ring. 

Taigen smirked, his eyes glinting with a mixture of determination and amusement. "A promise is a promise, and I intend to keep it. Are you ready to face the consequences of your words?"

You could feel the tension in the room rising, the air thick with anticipation. Mizu's lips curled into a sly grin. "Consequences? You make it sound like I'm about to face the wrath of the gods. It's just a friendly duel, isn't it?" Taigen chuckled, a low, throaty sound that echoed in the room. 

"Perhaps you've forgotten the sting of defeat. I'm here to remind you."

As the two wielders squared off, you couldn't help but sense the undercurrent of rivalry that went beyond the boundaries of a simple duel. Mizu and Taigen circled each other like predators in a dance, their blades gleaming in the soft light filtering through the shoji doors.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu's usually composed demeanour was cracking under the pressure of Taigen's persistent comments, about you. Her eyes darted between him and you, an unreadable emotion flickering in their depths. It was then that Taigen, with a mischievous glint in his eye, decided to turn the tables.

"Ah," he said with a smirk, "I can't help but wonder if your heart is in this duel or if it's distracted by other matters." He shot a quick glance in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long. Mizu's face betrayed a hint of annoyance, her jaw clenched. 

"Focus on the duel, Taigen. I have no time for your theatrics."

But Taigen was relentless. As the clash of steel filled the room, he continued his banter. "I gotta admit, I didn't expect to find such captivating company here. Maybe there's more to this journey than meets the eye."

You could see Mizu's grip on her sword tighten, a flash of irritation crossing her features. It seemed Taigen's words were getting under her skin. The duel became not only a test of skill but also a battleground for unspoken emotions. 

Finally, with a swift move, Mizu disarmed Taigen and held her sword at his throat. The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the heavy breaths of the combatants.

"Poor technique, easily learned," Mizu declared, her gaze cold. "Easily defeated."

As Mizu withdrew, she shot you a glance that carried a mix of frustration and something else— that lingered in the air. As Taigen retreated, she turned her attention back to you. The tension in the room lingered, thick like the scent of cherry blossoms on a cool breeze. The air crackled with unspoken words, and you could almost taste the lingering traces of the duel's emotional undertones.

As the shoji doors slid open, revealing the tranquil garden outside, Mizu stepped into the moonlit night. You followed suit, the night embraced them like a cloak, shadows dancing on their faces as they exchanged a few terse words.

"You're always so serious, Mizu," You teased, tone light as your hand reached to grasp her shoulder, tracing light patterns.

She turned to face you, her gaze softening under the moonlight. "I have to be serious. The world is not always forgiving." A hint of vulnerability peeked through the facade she usually wore. The tension from the duel seemed to linger, but now it was a different kind of tension—an electric charge that pulsed between you.

"Maybe," you said, stepping into the small distance between you, fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw, "but there's more to life than just battles and strife. Sometimes, it's about the moments we allow ourselves to savour."

The garden around you seemed to hold its breath, the only sound being the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. Mizu's gaze dropped for a moment before rising again, a hint of something more profound in her eyes.

"Sometimes, though, I wonder if there's room for a different kind of seriousness in my life," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The air became charged with an unexpected intimacy, and you found yourself drawn closer to Mizu. The scent of cherry blossoms intensified, wrapping around both of you like a delicate perfume. The moon illuminated her features, casting a soft glow that accentuated the vulnerability she rarely revealed.

"Perhaps there is," you murmured, your fingers gently tracing a strand of her hair. The tension in the air shifted from the remnants of the duel to an unspoken connection, an energy that pulsed between you.

Mizu's gaze locked onto yours, and in that moment, the world outside the garden seemed to fade away. The boundaries between, and the night became a canvas for something more profound. Without another word, she leaned in, and the touch of her lips against yours carried the weight of a thousand unspoken feelings.

Your lips, soft and familiar, sent a surge of warmth through her entire being. With every passing second, her breath grew more strained, muscles tensing in anticipation of your touch. Yielding to the magnetic pull between you, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into her embrace, the world outside fading away.

As her hands flattened against your spine, an electric current seemed to dance along her skin. Your hand, like a gentle breeze, found the curve of Mizu's neck, fingers starting a sensuous dance, caressing the delicate contours beneath. With each tender touch, a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, intermingling with the shared breath of the moment.

Kissing her back, your lips traced a path of desire, leaving an indelible mark on the canvas of passion. The sensation of your fingers on her neck sent shivers down her spine, and a subtle smile played upon her lips, a silent acknowledgement of the intimate connection forged in that tender embrace.

A momentary pause lingered as the kiss continued, a shared symphony of desire. As you pulled away slightly, her gaze, infused with a delicate lightness, met yours. The air between you crackled with the unspoken, silent language of longing. Her breath, a soft melody, hung in the air, a testament to the lingering sensuality that bound you together.

#blue eye samurai #mizu brainrot #blue eye samurai x reader #fanfic #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #bes #fic #request #this was so much fun #ringo #swordfather #mizu my beloved #like ahhhh #this is perfect #i love this so much #meow #hehe :3 #this is so real #i love women #bes fluff #fluff #x reader #lime #hunie writing #the kids miss you #bes mizu #taigen #mizu

[agentstarkid]

SAUDADE ✦ DR3

“Saudade” is a Portuguese word that carries a profound and complex meaning, often described as a deep emotional state of longing or nostalgia. It transcends mere language; it's a state of being, an emotion that seeps into the soul and lingers like an echo in the heart. It encompasses a mix of emotions, including melancholy, yearning, and a sense of emptiness, often accompanied by fond memories of past experiences or relationships. In the context of love, "saudade" captures the bittersweet essence of missing someone deeply, even when they are physically present or long after they are gone. It is the ache of the heart that comes from loving and losing, a poignant reminder of the depth of connection and the enduring power of love's impact on our lives.

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ type: social media au

✦ fc: becky g

✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, age gap, language, lots of angst, heartbreak, drama, internet meanies, mentions of mental health struggles, assholes.

✦ pit wall live: uh holi, loves 👀 sorry for the delay, but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter 👀 it's a little short but as present for not posting in March, I present to you: a bonus chapter hehe okay, byeeee *runs away as fast as she can*

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

JANUARY 1, 2022

yourinstagram

📍 Latinoamérica

liked by danielricciardo, badbunnypr, rubendias and 2,145,873 others

yourinstagram Starting the New Year on a bright note! ✨ Wearing yellow to channel optimism and positive energy as we dive into this new year. 💛 I'm so so so grateful for all the love and support you've shown me throughout the past year and I'm excited to continue this journey together in 2022. Here's to another year of growth, laughter, and cherished memories! Siempre para adelante, mi gente! 🎉

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danielricciardo Mi reina ❤️‍🔥

user1 I wanted to take this space to thank you for the happiness you have brought me over the years. Your music or your works of art have been a constant company in moments of joy, sadness and everything in between. Your talent is enormous, but so is your ability to connect with your fans in a unique way. Your humility and gratitude show that, despite the success, you are still a close and authentic person. Thanks for all that you do!

camila_cabello Good god woman have mercy

kylieminogue you are sensationally exquisite 💛✨

xtina my angel ❤️

user2 jawline could cut a diamond 🥶

user3 muy buena artista pero sobrevalorada respecto a su belleza, y no digo que no sea guapa sino sobrevalorada

user4 you could wear the rainbow if you wanted and that would still not make you relevant or give you any talent

user5 she always tries too hard

user6 watch out for Regina George in sheep's clothing

anitta Feliz ano novo para você Rainha 😘

diplo 💛

user7 the fact that they spent new year's day apart and on different sides of the world speaks volumes

user what? that they both wanted to see their families? grow up

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yourinstagram has added to their story!

⥂ translation: Everything I do and comes out of me it's because I'm feeling it, it's okay if no one else feels the same way. Two people can never ever feel the same at the same time.

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JANUARY 16, 2022

danielricciardo

📍 Perth, Australia

liked by yourinstagram, heidiberger_, natalie_pinkham and 1,562 others

danielricciardo Back seat baby seat bangers 🎶

tagged: yourinstagram

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View all 256.254 comments

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yourinstagram this is all anyone needs to have a great day ❤️ please send me his manager's contact, I've been looking for a male backing vocal for my next album and I think he can be the perfect choice 😌

danielricciardo yourinstagram ah, you see, he's a really sought-after artist so he's super busy. But I know his uncle and he's interested on the job, only thing is that he likes to be paid with kisses 💋😏 yourinstagram danielricciardo tell him to contact me, I think we will be able to work out the payment details soon 😌

yourinstagram btw how is it possible that he's that big now if I saw him like yesterday and he was this 🤏🏽 small 🥺❤️

user1 is the copying the hand movements for me 😂❤️

user2 so this is how Y/N's future is gonna look like 👀

userA all that's missing is the ring 👀 userB yeah danielricciardo stop being lazy my friend 👀

user3 you're gonna be a great dad one day ❤️🥺

♥ yourinstagram has liked this comment

user4 siempre dije que no quiero ser mamá, pero después de ver esto... yourinstagram mi reina quién pudiera ser vos 😮‍💨

user5 coisa mais linda! ❤️

user6 Daniel really sang his heart out to that song lmao

user7 you have really shit taste in music mate

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FEBRUARY 4, 2022

yourinstagram

liked by danielricciardo, keleighteller, natalie_pinkham and 1,238,562 others

yourinstagram Te amo con el alma, porque el alma nunca muere ❤️ happy 2 years, mi Danielito 🥰

⥂ translation: I love you with my whole soul, because the soul never dies ❤️

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danielricciardo My forever partner in crime ❤️

user1 cuide a ese hombre yourinstagram, que tu y yo no somos amigas 🫡

user2 oh God I'm so single 😩

mileycyrus so much love and happiness for you both ❤️❤️❤️

user3 THAT LAST PHOTO IT'S GIVING I'D MARRY YOU WITH PAPER RINGS 😭 SO 1 + 1 = THEY ARE GETTING ENGAGED‼️‼️

userA I'm so calling it, it is happening 🤩

user4 LIL BLAKE SIGHTING 😍😍😍

hermusicofficial favs

user5 she was talking seriously when she recorded A mi me gustan mayores 😅

userA será que aplica el "A mí me gustan más grandes. Que no me quepa en la boca..." con él?? 👀👀👀 yourinstagram userA los besos que quiera darme? 👀 sí, aplica 🤭😈 userB OMFG Y/N???!!! LMAOOO iamdannaschwarz yourinstagram that's enough internet for you today 🙅🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

chloestroll did he really cook? 😂

yourinstagram chloestroll he did! and it was really good actually 🥰 I felt ✨spoiled✨

oliviarodrigo mom and dad 💜

user6 the first pic is making me feel something. i don't know how to put that something into words though 🥵 *bi panics*

userA JUST A BIG FUCKING OOF I GUESS 🥵 userB they served cunt as per usual userC I grunted and groaned and moaned 🫠😩

user7 I'm so tired of them omg yeah, you're "in love", we see you, now stop shoving it at our faces every chance you have 🙄

fioamato congrats Sandy and Danny 😜💖

iamdannaschwarz Baby and Danny 😜💖 itsvittoriasousa nah, more like Troy and Gabriella landonorris Belle and the Beast 😜 yourinstagram landonorris aww did littol landow nowis just called me beautiful? 👀😊 landonorris nvm I take it back. Fiona and Shrek* 😌 yourinstagram landonorris well that makes you the donkey 😂

user8 every time I remember that there's a 9 year gap between them I wanna puke 🤮

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danielricciardo

liked by yourinstagram, martingarrix, landonorris and 1,562 others

danielricciardo happy 2 years mi vida ❤️

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user "mi vida" brb gonna go chew on a live wire 😭

yourinstagram let's do this for a lifetime ❤️♾️

danielricciardo you have yourself a deal, Chip ❤️

user2 hey God, it's me again...

martingarrix ❤️❤️❤️

user3 these adorable videos ending with daniel squeezing y/n's butt is so dan-y/n core 🥹😝

marcusstoinis congrats, lovebirds ❤️

user4 did they leave their own love lock on the fence? 🥹😭

userA I don't think we'll ever find it, but I'm sure they did 😭

landonorris congrats on putting up with him this long yourinstagram ❤️

joshallenqb 🍾❤️

user5 somethin something "find a beautiful love, make sure they know they are your morning light" playing while the sunset iluminates her and cutting to "and that you'll never let go till the day that you die" while he has his arms around her 😭😭😭

userA THIS HERE IS LOVE 😭 THIS HERE IS LIFE 😭 userB something something he's got a tattoo of that song's title 😭 userC somebody get me a fucking doctor I feel like my heart is about to burst

scottyjames31 my favorite celebrity couple 😌

caamp we love you guys ❤️

user5 grandpa copping a feel 🤢

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FEBRUARY 10, 2022

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FEBRUARY 22, 2022

yourinstagram has added to their story!

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MARCH 8, 2022

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MARCH 9, 2022

danielricciardo

liked by mclaren, georgerussell63, heidi_berger and 584,981 others

danielricciardo Better this week than next… Unfortunate to miss the test, but I’m starting to feel better. I’ll stay isolated and just focus on next weekend. Big thanks to Lando & McLaren for the heavy lifting, I owe you some beers (milk for Lando). Appreciate the well wishes from everyone as well.

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landonorris get well soon mate!

georgerussell63 speedy recovery danny ric 💪🏻

user did you and Y/N broke up??? please tell me it's a lie

user2 Y/N hasn't liked nor comment yet and it's been 2 whole days since he posted this

userA why whould she? they are quarantining together, she doesn't need to comment or liked every single post he makes. They are probably sitting side by side right now userB userA there's actually rumours that she was seen leaving the hotel in a rush yesterday and fans are already speculating if they broke up

user3 I hope you feel better soon Dan! I know we all wish to see you in action next weekend!!

user4 "milk for Lando" lmaooo i love them your honor <3

user5 this is your year mate don't let any setbacks bring you down 💪🏻

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MARCH 18, 2022

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MARCH 25, 2022

f1wags

liked by 3,474 others

f1wags It seems Danny Ricc has moved on quickly 👀 Just after a week since the confirmation of his break up with Y/N, a few fans have reported sightings of the driver with actress Heidi Berger —who has been linked to him a few times these past months— around Monaco.

The blonde is the daughter of former Austrian F1 driver Gerhard Berger and former Portuguese model Ana Corvo.

This love triangle drama just keeps getting juicier and more complicated! 🔥 What are you thoughts, did the Aussie cheated on his ex-girlfriend as some people say? Did he moved on too fast? or did he do the right thing? Let us know in the comments!

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user I actually feel bad for Y/N, not a fan of hers at all but it must be hard to see the man you were talking of marriage with a month ago, move on from your relationship so quickly and easily. if it were me in her shoes, I know it'd really mess my head up 😕

user2 idc if he'd not been with Heidi physically while being with Y/N, it's still treason to be emotionally involved with someone else while you're in a relationship. I believe he already had feelings for Heidi while still being with Y/N because how the fuck can you move on from a whole 2-year relationship in two weeks?? I only hope Y/N is doing okay and that she gets to heal and find someone better for her 😞

user3 you can try to defend him with all the arguments you can think of but at the end of the day, he is still just a rich man. It's funny how you've been all pointing fingers at the innocent while playing lawyer to the guilty.

user4 I'm a Danny Ricc fan but I think this was too fast too soon, at least have some respect for your ex who stood by your side through the highs and lows of the past years, smh so disappointed

user5 Get over it already! He moved on to someone better, as he should. Let the poor man alone! He's been single for weeks! He's allowed to see anyone he wants! Stop whining about it, Y/N just wasn't enough, as simple as that 🤷🏽‍♀️

user6 I'm actually super worried for him, he's not himself lately. Just a few weeks ago he was calling Y/N the love of his life and now this? All jokes aside, I think he's self-sabotaging. He looks like a shell of his old-self, he is not smiling as bright as before, he's super quiet now and if you pay attention to him during interviews, he fidgets a lot and sounds so insecure when asked about his driving. GO TO THERAPY BABE!!!

userA you are reaching, babe! lmaoooo he's fine, he just got tired of that snake 🤪

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MAY 3, 2022

danielricciardo

liked by corey_wilson, michaelitaliano, mclaren and 269,852 others

danielricciardo Miami. We made it.

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user i guess this is the confirmation we've been waiting for

user2 how can you move on from a 2 year relationship so fast??

user3 ugh men are so fucking unbelievable

userA jokes on all those whiny fangirls of his, turns out it wasn't he who deserved better, it was HER.

user4 he is a joke just like his driving lmao

user5 Heidi is so much better than that wannabe singer, she was just a plaything for him 🤣

user6 I'm so glad you opened up your eyes daniel

user7 so all those rumours have been true smh y'all were attacking Y/N nonestop for the smallest interactions with the opposite sex, and none of those rumours proved to be true but I'm not seeing the same energy directed towards him now that the rumours about him were actually true!

user8 I just know that the break up album is gonna be a banger 🔥🤪

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MAY 10, 2022

yourinstagram has added to their story!

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JUNE 19, 2022

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⇥ youtube search: falling (harry & y/n's duet version) - love on tour, london night 1

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JUNE 22, 2022

yourinstagram

liked by markhoppus, phoebebridgers, rubendias and 2,145,873 others

yourinstagram burned other memories just to make room for these ones 🎞️❤️‍🔥

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user HI MOTHER!! WELCOME BACK WE MISSED YOU ❤️❤️❤️

user1 we love to see you living your best life!!! 🥰

user2 Can't wait to listen to the full version of the song she plays on the last slide 🤩

userA Daniel Ricciardo is shaking in his boots right now 🤪

machinegunkelly 🖤🥀🤘🏼

user3 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

markhoppus kid what are you holding on your lap and why it isn't on my liquor shelf yet? 🤨

yourintagram sorry dad 😔 it's on its way to your doorstep right now 🤪 skyehoppus yourintagram make sure you are also included on the package arriving at our door, it's been too long honey ❤️ userA “dad”??? she knows mark hoppus?? what did i miss?? 😳 userB userA they have an on-going joke that mark found her wandering around and adopted her as one of the few blink-182's children along alex gaskarth and jack barakat from all time low 😂 she's super close with his family, too! I remember she collab on a song with him, but they didn't released it and then it got leaked, she did play it at a couple of concerts tho userC userB is it 'thank you & goodnight'? 👀 userB userC YES! I miss her pop-punk era 😔 that version she did of 'little lion man' was soooo good!!

user4 Baby Iza is on her way to hit a bitch (Daniel)

alexalbon I like pizza too 👀🍕

lilymhe sorry baby, bad bitches only 💅🏻

user5 OMG OMG WE'VE GOT HARRY, TAYLOR AND Y/N IN ONE POST?! THE HOLY TRINITY RIGHT THERE 😍

harrystyles ❤️

user6 I've got my two mothers in one photo 😭❤️

taylorswift Ms. Falls-a-lot 👻❤️

yourinstagram I swear I'm gonna scare you too next time 🙄😂

lilymhe walking among legends on this post 🙇🏻‍♀️ #blessed 🙏🏻

user6 I'm so happy that she's finally back ❤️ we need to flood her comment section with love 🥰

user7 Drama queen of this generation. Always playing the victim & tricking people into thinking that she's a mental health advocate. You're way too far from that. Cancel her 👍🏻🐍

user8 the caption: ICONIC 🔥

userA the taxi driver is twisting on his grave 😂🤪

user9 the old Y/N can't come to the phone right now, why? Oh 'cause she's DEAD! 😎

user10 most untalented celeb ever

fioamato where was my invitation? 🤨 yourinstagram iamdannaschwarz

iamdannaschwarz you got one, you just decided to ditch us for mr. i-have-an-art-gallery 🤨 yourinstagram iamdannaschwarz yessss expose her, dannita! 🤭 No te hagas de la víctima, mi corazón. We've got the receipts 😎🧾 fioamato I hate you both 🙄

user11 you should be ashamed to post a photo holding a tequila bottle when so many young people follow you. You should be a role model to them, not another alcoholic celebrity 🙄

user12 babygirl I hope you are doing better and feeling great! You deserve so much more ❤️

userA she's as fabulous as ever while he's floping big time, I call that karma 💅 userB not many people know how to truly appreciate the unique sazón and sabor of a Latina 🔥 homeboy couldn't handle the heat 🤭

user13 I know that album is gonna be 🔥🔥🔥

user14 attention seeker no wonder you always get dump for someone better

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JUNE 30, 2022

Video — CLEAN SHEET KINGS | STONES & DIAS

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─── Please don't forget to reblog and/or comment! ♡

#daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo social media au #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #latina!reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #( agentstarkid's works )

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest (KICTTC) pt. 2

Wow, I really was inspired! It really warms my heart that so many people enjoyed it as well! Again I Frankensteined this together as parts of it came to my brain, then connected them all. I swear I shuffled things like 5 times.

Be safe, make good choices

TW/CW: Child abuse, child murder, death, child death (Danny), Shock/ptsd symptoms, Guilt/ self-blame, Child warriors/soldiers, blood, familial abuse/ neglect

~~~ IF I MISSED A TAG please let me know, I want everyone to be able to make the informed choice that is best for them! ~~~

Here is part one in case you missed it!

Part three Part four

Happy holidays my friends :3

~Ren

One two three four five six. In. Hold.

The air in the bat cave was chilly. As usual.

One two three four five. Out. Again.

Usually, moisture clung to Damian’s skin and clothes. Today it seemed harsh and dry like even the cave was voicing its displeasure and passing judgement. It added to his melancholy and nostalgia.

One two three four five six. In. Hold 

His first week in Gotham the rain had been coming down in heavy sheets, he had never seen a storm quite as wild before. He had felt small standing on the Wayne manor doorstep next to Mother, with the wind and rain whipping around them, cradling them in water. He shivered at the memory. Damian had only known the weather in Nanda Parbat, being so close to Ladakh the weather alternated between dry and hot to freezing temperatures in the winter. True downpours were rare due to where the base had been built.

One two three four five. Out. Again

The nights were long and cold. Their room only outfitted with bare essentials, had none of the comfort he had now. Damian can still recall how his little body would shiver and shake no matter how hard he tried to still it. Many winter nights under the protection of the dark, Danny would cross their room to slip under his covers. Two little bodies next to each other, the warmth soothing their bruises and sore muscles while they watched the snow drift down from the window. 

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Damian was not in shock as Tim may have suggested. No. He would never fall so far that emotional distress would prevent him from what must be done. The nervous tick to his heart was because of his worry for Danyal. Damian had only accepted the heat reflective blanket so Father would leave him be. He clutched the edges in an attempt to refocus. He cannot remember who dragged the plush chair into the batcave but he supposed being comfortable while waiting for Danyal to wake was acceptable. Damian also grudgingly could admit to himself, they were kind to place it so he maintained visual on his little brother.

One two three four five. Out. Again

Danyal’s blood had stained his costume. Green and red, Damian’s colors but now, well. He’d start by asking Alfred to take a look, see if it could be cleaned but maybe it was time to follow in his sibling’s footsteps and completely change his armor out for something that didn’t threaten to drive him to his knees. 

One two three four five six. In. Hold

He wanted to be clean, so he'd be allowed in Danyal's room, but he was stuck where he was. Some parts of his clothes were wet still, other less saturated parts were dry and itchy and uncomfortable. He idly scratched at some, and then abruptly stopped when the flakes caught under his nails. He’d have to talk with Danny about why it seemed his green blood tingled against his skin.

One two three four five. Out. Again

( He would bite his tongue though, he's not so dense to miss the fact that prying is glaringly rude, and he doesn't want to give his brother anymore reasons to run from him. Even if he wondered why Danyal's blood smells like rotting food and sweaty locker room with a touch of something he couldn't name. It was a nauseating combination instead of the iron he has grown used to.)

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Toxic green it was always that blasted bright green. Grandfather lived as long as he did due to the pits, the pits brought Jason back, now Danyal was affected, and he had no idea what to do. He was scared. He was so sacred.

One two three four five. Out. Again

"Heyy Bud, maybe it's time to change and shower?" Richard's voice comes from behind where Damian slumped. Damian allows a quick glance at his eldest brother, before he turns his gaze back to Danny's prone form on the bed.

No, he hadn't flinched at the sudden noise, he obviously knew Richard was approaching his seat. Even if his brother is eyeing him with that look like he knows what Damian is thinking. Damian bites his cheek until he splits the skin. Which he can't. He can try to understand because of his experiences with Jason's death, but. Danny was Damian's twin. His other half, they had always been together. Richard can't possibly understand the guilt he carried for not realizing Danny's plan when he realized something had changed the look in his twin's eye, or how ashamed he is for the sliver of pride he felt afterwards when Grandfather handed Damian with his personal kodachi, a blade every member had coveted. How it felt like betrayal that he had thrived in the League those five years after Danyal's death.  

He doesn't know what that's like to lose an intrinsic part of you. He had a family before being adopted by Father. The Wayne's had been allowed to stop for Jason's death. Dick had been allowed to mourn his little brother, to erect a grave to sit with. Damian only had had Danyal and then he died, and Damian was never able to speak of Danyal again until now. Hell, Grandfather was pleased to have taught Damian a lesson on rooting out weakness. He regrets not trying to bring life to those memories he cherishes.

Damian's frustrated with himself, the small movement was meant to be a reach for one of the knives that are still lining his body. Inescapable evidence he is balancing precariously on a knife's edge. Evidence Richard is no doubt started collecting the minute he had realized Damian recognized him. A fierce scowl finds its way onto Damian's face as he clenches the material of his pants between his fists. He wants to scream. If he were Jason, he'd snort at his brother's insistence in taking Bruce's place when he glitches over big emotions, when inevitably hides from his children until he's done processing.

Damian doesn't say anything though for a couple minutes, he knows Richard is caring and kind but the idea of talking about feelings with his sappiest brother has Damian suppressing a shutter. He doesn't want to talk about any of this, even if he knows his grace period to collect his thoughts is running out quickly.

"I'll stay with him while you're gone." Richard offers quietly, "Babybat, please?"

The name hasn't bothered Damian in years but now it has him seething and baring his teeth.  "Do not call me that Grayson." Damian has never been the baby of the family, that spot has always been Danny's.

No one has questioned his prickly disposition since his arrival or knows why he hates their pet names or where and he disappears on his birthday. They dismissed it with condescending smiles, ruling it as him finally acting like a child, more anger, less murder. Like throwing a tantrum over a ripped toy. How has he managed to fool a family of crime fighting detectives?... He's the superior son of course. The sentiment rings hollow, if they don't know it's because they didn't bother to ever really get know Damian past his carefully constructed front. Truly, Damian thought, a ten-year-old fooling all of the Bats and Wings is ridiculous. Damian is stubborn to a fault and decided if they think his grief is equal to an upset child, well he wasn't going to point it out for them. It took Danyal dropping from the sky for them to realize, there was more to Damian than they knew.

Grayson is watching him carefully now, but his posture remains open, relaxed, his warm smile still firmly in place. Even if Damian knows the tightness at the corners indicates his rising anxiety. Damian still wants to break those perfect teeth of his.

This isn't easy for him, why would he make it easier for them.

Instead of acting on his impulse to maim, he paces closer to the glass, allowing himself to remember their childhood, Danny had burned brightly in the darkness the League surrounded itself in -too brightly- and ultimately snuffed out. Danny was all enthusiastic questions, witty remarks and freely given smiles. He had intended to tell Father about his dead twin, had been preparing how to report the situation just right in the time it took to travel from Nanda Parbat to Gotham with Mother, surely Father would let him speak of Danyal, even once would have been enough.

The whole point of Mother sending him away to live with Father was to get him away from the League and Grandfather's influence. Away from his wretched rules that prevented him from honor Danyal as he should. Mother had tried to hide her emotions away but when Grandfather had started talking about Damian like he did Danny those last few months and -well, Damian was an excellent assassin being the son of Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne; two of the most resourceful people out there- he knew what her fear looked like in the forced steadiness of her hand as she lead him away, the sorrow in her brow. He knew his Grandfather would soon order him dead as well.

Mother had him pack his bag and took him to Father, one twin lighter than planned. His Father was nothing as expected. Damian had imagined someone like Mother, always calm and collected, her icy displeasure, her quiet pride. Batman was close to expectation, Bruce Wayne on the other hand was loud, emotive, emotionally compromised. Damian would've shrunk under his Father's attention that first meeting if not for his rigorous training. Anger, guilt, resentment all flew around the room. He kept the secret of his twin buried where it couldn't hurt anyone; he had seen Father's reaction to Damian, nothing good would happen if he told Bruce. The detective would surely push and pry until their secrets lay at his feet, once a mystery was presented to him Batman would stay on it until he was satisfied with the answers. The destruction would only be regretted in the aftermath.  

It was demeaning to allow his new family to think he lacked in his training but for those first few months with Danny saturating his thoughts Damian would turn to where Danyal would be at his elbow, would open his mouth to whisper in Arabic to share their secrets like they used to or he would leave his blind spots wide open, shame and grief had warred inside him for a long time. Damian had loved his little brother with everything he had and then he was gone- killed by his own hand at his Grandfather's request. The Waynes had given him this new family with assorted siblings overnight, and itmade him breathless to acknowledge that Danyal would never thrive in this warmth. 

(Danny had been a mischievous child, witty and too smart for his own good to the frustration of their teachers. Even if he fell short in martial arts and weapons training compared to his older brother, he was better at blending quietly into the shadows. The twins shared a fierce protectiveness between them of course but Danyal? Danyal was creative, had an inherent genius for tricks and traps. Danny who cried in their room after a mission but did not hesitate with those who disrespected Damian. The only evidence their teachers would find was the self-satisfied look on Danny's face, much to their anger. With no evidence to show Grandfather they were forced to be content with pushing them harder until one of them collapsed and then took glee in punishing the one who fell behind. (No matter how much Damian helped with Danyal's sword swings or his forms, his twin rarely beat him in a straight fight.) 

Danyal would crawl into his bed those nights seeking his twin's warmth in the cool desert night, and he'd fix Damian with this blazing look before shying away, moving his attention to Damian's hands he would trace every scar and callous until Damian drifted to sleep. Danyal would wake him before their trainer arrived and they'd steal a few quiet moments for themselves.

(The only time Damian woke before Danyal their hands were still between them entwined, his little hand was clutched tight-like Danyal was afraid of it being snatched away. Damian gave a little squeeze back and Danny's eyes fluttered open. When he saw Damian next to him his face stretched into Danny's true smile, soft, shy and sweet. A smile for Damian alone. He has started to forget what it looked like.)

Damian had been adrift in this new world away from the strict dogma the League required. The new rules he was expected to live by now were so different, he constantly wished Danyal was here for Damian to find some familiarity in. He was on an uncontrolled spiral those first months until he had given in to Richard's soft support. It had stung at first, to receive the affection that only Danny had given him in the past.

Richard was the one who noticed he was spending his free time sketching, dragged him out of the manor to give him his first bound sketchbook with charcoal and had beamed proudly the first time Damian allowed him to see it being used. Damian knew just how hard his brother loved their family, loved him. It was the only reason Damian quelled the urge to stab him, even if it was extremely tempting.

No, he must be intentional now. Strong in the face of what is sure to be murky doubt at Damian's claims. Tim had tried to run a paternity test with the blood from one of Danny's bandages Alfred had discarded- it came back with an error message about twenty minutes ago, but Tim was nowhere to be found. If he can bring Richard over to their side before the rest of their siblings or their father push their way into the batcave for answers, he'd manage to keep things relatively neutral while he argued his case.

Damian takes a deep breath strengthening his resolve. This is for Danyal, he will not misstep now with so much on the line.

If Damian fails to convince them, he will take Danny and run. Between the two of them no one would be able to find them unless they wished it to be so.

“Damian…” Dick says his name carefully, with as much feeling as he can, because he knows the shock of having his brother rise from the grave you buried him in. He aches that one of his siblings ever had to go through what he did. “ I think someone should be with you while we wait for him to wake up.”  

The sneer of disgust that overtakes Damian’s face at his words was expected and how familiar it was had Dick shoving aside the burst of fondness that it caused, and he cuts Damian off before he delivers what surely is a scathing reply.   

“I know you want to be by Danyal’s side, and I can see how much you love him…" Dick clears his throat when it threatens to close, he has to keep talking because this isn't just about Damian, this is about their baby brother that looked terrified under Damian's gaze in the warehouse. "You saw his injuries; I’m worried with how scared he was earlier Danyal may injure himself more if he feels overwhelmed.”

Damian’s eyes closed tightly against the agony that shot through his chest. He knew that. He didn’t need Richard’s reminder. For Danny to look at Damian with such terror, pleading with him- Damian has never hated himself more. He has no doubt this is truly Danyal, Damian knows clones don't carry scars, scars show the life you've lived, it's unique no way to replicate it. They were all there just like Damian remembered.

As heir Damian had to be cold and merciless in the League, he was used to those around him being afraid of his capabilities, of how easily he could snuff out their lives, at one point he had been proud of his Grandfather’s smile when he had heard his four-year-old grandson had taken down his trainer with ease. He had never been that way with Danyal, distant sure, he had to be under the League.

But now that he’s been away, had a chance to meet so many people he knew better. He never felt as alone as he does now, Dick besides him and Danyal resting close by. He never wanted to cause his brother such pain. Richard could be right, he was much more knowledgeable on feelings than Damian, who still stumbles on the finer intricacies of societal interactions. He.. He would do anything for his little brother and if that meant sending him far away from here, Damian would do it. Would help him escape Batman and Bruce Wayne who were both annoyingly persistent. The others.. he could convince, he had enough blackmail stored away for an important favor. It was enough knowing Danyal was alive. 

(No. He’s lying to himself. He’s so close to unraveling but will grit and bare it. It’s his responsibility, he always will look after Danyal. No matter the personal cost. He can practically feel Richard’s devastation from here; he’s sure his older brother is desperate to make this better, however he can. Damian won’t let him. He deserves Danyal’s fear, he was a murderer masquerading as a boy. A boy who in this moment aches to hold his little brother close like when they were kids. Beg his forgiveness and sob and marvel because his fear makes this real, his brother is alive. If Damian believed in miracles this would be his.)

He cannot afford to lose this head with Danny vulnerable in the next room, so he breathes a long breath through his nose again stubbornly not looking at Richard, keeps his eyes on his baby brother, watches his strange breathing rhythm raise and lower the sheets in reassurance his twin is still with him and turns his body towards Richard, a small concession.

"Danyal is my little brother, my twin." It's said slowly, Damian carefully controlled his tone, flat, to the point. Damian just had to get this report out, "When we were five Grandfather ordered that I lay claim my title as heir."

From the corner of his eye Damian can see Richard's smile tighten with tension in an effort to keep it there, now that Damian has started though he pushes past the guilt that has haunted him to finish, " I was superior in martial arts and weapons handling but I was too rigid, Danyal- he" Damian's throat is tight, like there is a rock in his throat, and he clears it quickly. "We excelled when we were together, he took to the things I had not. I knew I'd be Heir, being the eldest grandson. But-" He chokes and Richard makes an aborted motion to touch him. Thankfully he waits.

"But I knew he'd be my Shadow; We'd rule together as soon as I took my place at as the Demon Head... Until Grandfather made us duel." To the death goes unsaid but Damian could see the horrible realization breaking across Richard's face, so he turned his head to look at where the bats nest was among the stalactites. He could make out their mass if he looked hard enough. "Danyal threw himself onto my sword and I killed the person I promised to protect!" Damian pauses, and whispers into the air between them. "There was so much blood." It wavers in his mouth but doesn't break.

The truth burns as it's coming out. Damian got all the big things into the open, now he allows himself to fall into his elder brother's arms and weep. All his pain and regret soaking Richard's shoulder. His body is still sitting with Richard, but Damian is back in a time filled with sharp strikes, where punishment was to be embraced. Swords against whetstones. Legacies to be molded. Damian can hear the whoosh of leather through the air and on cold nights the scars on his back ache.

Damian shivers now in Richard's hold his breath clouding the space between them. Damian shoots straight out of Richard's arms as soon as he realizes it's not just his breath that's visible. The cave had gone from chilly to freezing in a flash. The temperature in the warehouse had dropped too, right before his twin came tumbling out of the sky. Something is wrong. In the time Damian had looked away something had begun to stir in the recovery room. The once steady if slow beating of his twin's heart now resembles an average heartbeat.

Energy pulses. Biting wind almost takes their feet off the ground. The lights burst, raining glass from the ceiling. Richard throws an arm around Damain and pulls him into one of those springy twists only he could do that brings them under some cover.

A shadow writhes in the dark of the recovery room and Damian struggles to free himself from Richard's grip. "Danyal!" He's becoming desperate. Danyal has to be alright. Damian cannot handle losing his baby brother again. Richard stays firm. "Let me go! Please he could be hurt." His voice cracks over the plead, he feels small. Small and helpless. Two things he swore that day he would never give into again.  

Running out of patience Damian swipes at him with a blade and when Richard yelps and releases his arm he rolls, pushing into a sprint once he drops. Only to stop cold a few feet from the door. Peeking up at him from the side of Danyal's bed are solid glowing green eyes.

Part Three 01/06/2024

#ddcwtxt #Keeping It Close To The Chest #ddcw.txt #daydreamsandcrashingwaves #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dc universe #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #league of assassins #ras al ghul #Child abuse #physical abuse #child death tw #death tw #child murder #Shock #ptsd #guilt #supportive dick grayson #Good big brother Dick grayson #Dick Grayson and Jason Todd sibling relationship #child warriors #blood #danny and damian are twins #danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are twins #twin au

[abiiors]

Palimpsest

just something small and shitty i wrote after rewatching the GQ interview (and on loads of cough syrup)

‘There used to be a rave there,’ he speaks wistfully, softly and points at a large Pret nestled between two buildings. 

The cafe in question looks a bit out of place; shiny and modern compared to the brick buildings on either side of it. People walk in and out, speed-walking, head tilted down looking at their phones. Their business casual outfits are smart and ironed to the T. 

And the two of you stand in front of it in Matty’s old hoodies. 

‘What’s that…the third time now?’ you tease gently. He’s been in a bit of a mood; nostalgia topped with melancholy with an added dash of “old age is upon me”

‘The fourth,’ he corrects grumpily, ‘and you’re not supposed to be mean to me today.’

‘Why not?’

He grabs your hand in his, long spindly fingers gently caressing the ring on your finger. ‘Because it’s been six months since this,’ he points out proudly. 

You quietly examine the dainty gem on your finger, just like you have every day for the last six months, and smile to yourself. The platinum band is worn, maybe even lightly scratched but the diamond is new and shiny. 

‘Tell me the story of my ring again,’ you sling your arm around his waist and nudge him away from the Pret that was once a rave. 

The ring story has been told several times now, once by his mum, twice by him. Still you love hearing it each time, love how excited he gets when he starts narrating it like a proper story. 

‘Once upon a time,’ he begins with a flourish and you throw your head back to laugh. 

The day is mild and beautiful, his voice trickles like warm honey in your ears as he recalls the ring’s history. It was his nana’s, then it was briefly his mother’s, then he asked if he could use it to propose but get the gem replaced. 

‘It’s not just a ring,’ he states proudly. ‘It’s a palimpsest.’

‘Palimpsest,’ you shake your head, ‘you and your big words.’

‘You taught me that word actually.’

‘Did I?’

‘Mm-hmm,’ he nods and pulls you closer to him, ‘I had to look it up.’

That makes you turn to him and gasp dramatically. His face splits into a smile, he rolls his eyes and pulls up his hood further over his face. You have been walking around aimlessly; lazy and unhurried. Sometimes he twirls you in the streets just because, sometimes you catch the sun highlighting the grey in his curls. 

‘So what should we do to celebrate today?’ 

He takes a moment to think. It’s one of his serious silences, he’s actually contemplating his answer. ‘Just elope with me today.’

Your steps come to an abrupt halt. Elope. Today. Is he serious? The expression on his face is open and excited. He actually fully fucking means it. 

‘And what about all the wedding planning I’ve agonised over?’ You ask this only because you’re still trying to wrap your head around what he’s just said. Not that the idea isn’t exciting. And the more you think about it…

‘We’ll have that wedding too. But today it would be just us,’ he offers. His spontaneous idea is starting to take a vague shape now. Could you really?

‘And where would be get married?’ you ask breathlessly. It occurs to you then that you have fully stopped in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Some people give you judgemental looks while walking by you. And you watch as realisation dawns on his face.

‘There’s a chapel right around the corner.’

That. Is even more shocking. 

‘Matty Healy wants to get married in a chapel?’ you try not to let the scepticism be too obvious but fail anyway. He’s enjoying all of this, how after all these years he can still fluster you and leave you speechless. How unpredictable he is even after all this time spent together. 

He leans in and winks conspiratorially, ‘only because there used to be a rave there.’

#matthew healy x reader #matty healy x reader #matthew healy #matty healy #matty healy imagine #matty healy fluff #matty x reader #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #fluff #this is a bit shit i'm sorry but it is what it is

[godsfavdarling]

09 wedding day delight

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: Wedding time (not Spencer's)

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: none for this chapter

words: 2,2k

In front of the vanity, Brittany meticulously applied her makeup, the soft glow of morning light illuminating her features. She was dressed in a backless, sleek black dress that hugged her figure, its simplicity accentuated by long sleeves.

Her hair cascaded freely around her shoulders, its natural waves adding an effortless elegance to her appearance. Spencer sat on the bed, quietly observing her with a mix of admiration and intrigue.

"Why does this room feel so... basic and empty?" Spencer mused aloud, his curiosity piqued.

She glanced at Spencer, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"That's because it's not really my room," Brittany explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "When my family moved here, I was already in college."

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "So, you never had a room here?"

Brittany shook her head, her expression wistful. "Nope. I guess I've always been a bit of a nomad when it comes to this house."

Spencer's gaze softened with understanding as he took in Brittany's words. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her, never having a permanent space to call her own in her family home.

"So, where are all your childhood things?" Spencer's inquiry broke the quiet hum of the room, his tone gentle yet curious.

Brittany paused, her hands stilling as she considered his question. "Somewhere in a box, probably," she replied with a shrug, her gaze distant as she recalled memories tucked away in the recesses of her mind. "And yours, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer's expression softened at the mention of home, a fleeting shadow crossing his features. "Probably... somewhere in a box," he echoed, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. 

"Exactly… Since your mom is in Virginia, do you still have a home here?" Brittany's inquiry was gentle, her concern evident in her voice.

His breath caught in his throat, the mention of her mother stirring a mix of emotions within. 

"No... well... she... I took her to DC a few years ago," he began, his voice faltering slightly as he spoke. "She's there in a mental health facility. She was in Vegas for years, and now… it's just easier to have her closer."

"And your dad?" Brittany's question hung in the air, the unspoken tension palpable between them as he hesitated.

"He's... still here," Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes widened in shock, “Oh my god, why didn't you say? We can make time so you can go see him."

"No need," he replied quietly, his voice tinged with sadness. "We don't talk."

Brittany found herself at a loss for words. 

"It's fine. He's been out of the picture since I was 10," he finally managed to say, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

She nodded in understanding, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features. 

"So, when did you move to DC?" she asked, shifting the conversation to lighter territory.

"I was 22, and I had just started working for the FBI..."

"Wait... what year was that?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"2003. Why?" Spencer replied, his curiosity piqued.

Brittany's puzzled expression deepened as she processed his response. "Did you always live in that same apartment?" she asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Um... yeah," Spencer admitted, his gaze drifting to the floor. "It's a good location, and I don't like change very much, so..."

Brittany's eyes widened in realization, her features morphing into a mixture of shock and disbelief. 

"I moved to DC in 2003... So you're telling me we were both born in 1981 in Las Vegas, then at 22 we both moved to DC, lived in the same neighborhood for all this time, and then we found ourselves in the same office. And after all those years, that was the first time we met..."

Spencer's own astonishment mirrored Brittany's as he processed the coincidence. "Yeah... That is strange," he agreed, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. 

"So, you lived in the same apartment all those years?"

Brittany nodded, a wry smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah... At first I was with a guy, but then he cheated on me, so I kicked him out. If he was going to be a cheater, I might as well keep the apartment," she explained with a shrug. 

Spencer's expression softened with sympathy as he listened to Brittany's recounting of her past. 

"As you said, great localization. And I don't like change either...What?" Brittany prompted, catching the puzzled look in his eyes.

The air hung heavy with unspoken words as Spencer's gaze lingered on Brittany, his mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Nothing," he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Brittany arched an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Come on!" she prodded, a playful glint in her eye. "You just gave me such a look! What's going on in that head of yours?"

Spencer hesitated, his thoughts racing as he struggled to find the right words. "I just... I find it hard to believe that someone would ever cheat on you," he admitted quietly, his gaze never leaving hers.

A shadow passed over Brittany's features, her smile faltering slightly at his words. "Well... he did," she confessed, her voice tinged with resignation.

"That's not what I meant," Spencer rushed to clarify, his words tumbling out in a jumble as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "It's just... Why would anyone do that?"

"Well, he was stupid," Brittany replied with a wry chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

His heart was heavy with sympathy. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Brittany offered him a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of his compassion. "It's okay. It was a long time ago." she replied softly. 

With a deft hand, she added a final touch of sophistication, swiping on a bold red lipstick that adds a pop of color to her understated elegance.

As they arrived at the wedding venue, Spencer couldn't help but notice the abundance of pink and red hearts adorning every corner. 

The air was filled with an unmistakable aura of love and romance, fitting for a Valentine's Day celebration. The venue was transformed into a whimsical wonderland, with twinkling fairy lights and delicate floral arrangements adding to the enchanting atmosphere.

As Spencer and Brittany made their way inside, they were greeted by the sight of the ceremony space, beautifully decorated with cascading ribbons and elegant floral arches. The room seemed to glow with warmth and anticipation, a perfect setting for the union of two hearts.

The ceremony began, and Spencer found himself entranced by the heartfelt vows exchanged between the bride and groom. Love filled the air, palpable and contagious, as the couple promised to cherish each other for eternity.

Amidst the joyous celebration, Spencer couldn't help but notice the absence of Brittany among the bridesmaids.

"I noticed you're not one of the bridesmaids," Spencer remarked quietly.

Brittany flashed him a wry smile. "Good riddance," she replied with a hint of amusement. "I'm perfectly content not to be up there.”

“Besides," she added, her gaze flickering towards the bridesmaids' pastel pink dresses, "I don't think I could pull off that color even if I tried. Pink just isn't my thing, you know?"

Spencer nodded in understanding, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He couldn't help but admire Brittany's confidence and authenticity.

As Spencer and Brittany settled in at their table for the reception, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and merriment. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, the clinking of glasses and the sound of music filling the air.

The music shifted to a familiar melody and Brittany's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, I love this song," she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face as the opening notes of "Linger" by The Cranberries filled the air.

Turning to Spencer, she grabbed his hand excitedly. "Come on Handsome, we're gonna dance,"

"Umm... I can't... I can't dance," Spencer protested, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What do you mean? It's easy. We'll just sway side to side. Come on," Brittany encouraged, her smile infectious as she led him to the dance floor.

As they reached the dance floor, Brittany placed her hand in his and rested the other on his shoulder. 

Spencer reciprocated, but his hand brushed against her bare back, causing him to recoil slightly.

"Sorry, my hands are cold," he apologized sheepishly.

"It's okay," Brittany reassured him, taking his hand and placing it on her back. "I'm gonna warm it up."

"Ooh… that is cold," she remarked, a playful grin tugging at her lips as she felt the coldness of his skin against hers.

Face to face, their proximity intensified, and Spencer found himself unable to look away from Brittany's captivating gaze. His heart raced with each breath, the electric tension between them palpable.

"Sorry... am I making you uncomfortable?" Brittany asked playfully.

"Umm... no. No, you don't," Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you sure? I can stop if you want," Brittany offered, her tone gentle and sincere.

"Stop what?" Spencer questioned, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"Well, you know... being myself," Brittany clarified, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

"I don't want you to stop that. I love... everyone should be themselves," Spencer affirmed, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You're sweet," Brittany remarked, her eyes sparkling with affection."So you're okay with this?" her voice soft and tentative as she glanced at Spencer, seeking reassurance.

"With what?" Spencer replied, a hint of confusion coloring his tone.

"Me flirting with you," Brittany confessed, her words hanging in the air as she waited for his response.

Spencer's heart sank at her admission. "Is that what you've been doing?" he questioned, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

As Spencer's heart sank, he gathered his courage to add. "I don't... I don't mind it,”

"Really?" Brittany's voice held a mix of surprise and relief.

"Yeah..." Spencer nodded, "You can keep being... you... you know?" 

"Was it really not obvious?" Brittany questioned, her brow furrowing slightly as she searched Spencer's eyes for an answer.

"Maybe it was... it's just..." Spencer hesitated, grappling with his thoughts before continuing. "Well... why would you? I kind of thought that's just the way you talk to everyone."

Brittany's expression softened with understanding as she processed his words. "I don't talk like that to everyone," she clarified gently, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

Brittany leaned in closer, her face nearing his neck. As her fingers traced the scar, a sense of intimacy enveloped them, drawing them closer together. His breath catching as he noticed the concern etched on her features.

"Oh my god... what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with concern as she traced the scar with her fingers.

"I got shot," Spencer replied, his tone somber as he recalled the painful memory.

"In the neck?" Brittany's eyes widened in shock.

"Yeah... it was close," Spencer confirmed, a shiver running down his spine at the memory of the near miss.

"Oh wow. That's scary. Where else did you get shot?" Brittany inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"In my knee," Spencer replied with a wry smile. 

"Knee?" Brittany's laughter bubbled up despite herself.

"Yeah... I had to walk with a cane for months."

Spencer chuckled, the tension easing as he joined in her laughter. "It was quite the sight. A twenty-something with a cane. It was kinda funny.”

"So... you enjoy when I flirt with you?" Brittany asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she sought confirmation.

"I mean... yeah... you make me nervous," Spencer admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Nervous?" Brittany raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief, her tone filled with amusement.

"Yeah?" Spencer chuckled, his laughter mingling with her teasing.

"Little old me?" Brittany teased further, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Yeah," Spencer laughed, feeling a warmth spread through him at their banter.

"Why don't you flirt back?" Brittany questioned, genuine curiosity coloring her words as she leaned in closer.

"I'm not sure I know how to," Spencer confessed, his voice tinged with self-doubt.

"Fair enough," Brittany replied with a gentle smile, her understanding evident in her tone.

As Brittany's eyes lingered on Spencer's lips, a surge of courage propelled her forward. With a nervous flutter in her chest, she leaned in and kissed him softly, her heart pounding with anticipation. 

Their lips met and Brittany sensed a hesitance in Spencer's movements, a subtle restraint that dampened her excitement.

Did he share her feelings, or was this merely a fleeting moment for him? With a pang of disappointment, she pulled away, a veil of resignation falling over her features.

Spencer's heart sank. He had wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the kiss, to reciprocate Brittany's boldness with his own passion.

As Brittany withdrew, Spencer's heart ached with regret. He had failed to convey the depth of his feelings, and now, it seemed, he had lost her. 

Brittany laughed softly, her eyes dancing with amusement as she noticed his lipstick-stained lips. 

With a gentle touch, she brought her hand to his face, using her thumb to wipe away the smudge of red lipstick. "Sorry," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mix of apology and affection.

He stared at her in a daze as she cleaned his lips, his mind swirling with a mix of confusion and exhilaration. 

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fanfics #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfic #i'm such a fool for you

[wordynerdygurl]

Two Sizes Too Small

Author’s Note:  Well, lovelies, I pulled an all-nighter to finish this one.  I just really wanted to give Eddie Munson a wonderful Christmas.  That it involves love and my favorite holiday movie, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, well, how could I resist? Full disclosure- there’s a lot of holiday movie and music references!  Also, my taglist is open, so let me know if you’d like to be added!  Lastly, I hope everyone has a lovely and restful holiday season!! Pairing:  Plus Size Female Reader x Eddie Munson

Summary:  Eddie hates Christmas, the whole Christmas season, and maybe his heart is too small but it’s Christmas and miracles can happen at the holidays!

Warnings:  SMUT, a touch of dubcon in the beginning, and also some angsty pining!

If it weren’t for Wayne, Eddie would have given up on Christmas a long time ago. 

  Around the time when he realized that Santa was his uncle scraping up extra change to ensure that there was something for him to open under the tree, Eddie’s heart had hardened against the holiday.  Wayne already did so much: working double shifts, making sure that Eddie had food, clothes and a safe way to get to school each day.  Why add to that burden with a day set aside for the sole purpose of spending money on stuff that no one really needed? Oh, he’d heard the arguments about showing people how much you cared this time of year.  That the depth of someone’s feelings was greater than or equal to the quality of whatever sweater, baseball cap or new crock pot could be wrapped in pretty paper with a ribbon slapped on top.  In his opinion that was a shitty system for communicating how much you appreciate someone, not to mention it only happened once a year.

There was no question in Eddie Munson’s mind that Wayne loved him.  He didn’t need a stocking full of candy or a gift boxed t-shirt to show him what he already knew to be true.  So, why make a big deal about it?  It was just another day on the calendar.

Regrettably, his sentiments weren’t shared with, well, anyone else.  All of the people around Eddie, his uncle especially, seemed to go Christmas Crazy.  Shopping all the time, planning events and scheduling parties, worrying about what to buy everyone and where to get the best sale price.  It didn’t make sense to him.  The decorations, the lights, the ornaments, all of it was sentimental in a way that Eddie just couldn’t abide, “What’s the point?  You’re just gonna pull all this shit down in a week.” Not dissuaded, Wayne snorts indignantly, digging through a dusty box marked X-MAS, “The point is, I like it.  The point is, it reminds me of when you were an excited kid who liked the simple things in life.  Things like bikes and blocks and crayons, not girls and drinking and rock music.” “Ok, ok, you made your point.”  Eddie concedes, helping to tape a strand of red tinsel garland along the shelf of mugs which had all been gifts to uncle over the years. Wayne stoops low, child-like glee on his face, as he readies to plug in the light strand, “Ready for the tree?” It was like this every year and Eddie nods, ready to get this part over with, faking his way through Wayne’s Christmas crankiness.  With a snap of electricity, the three foot artificial tree lights up.  It’s filled with paper Santas scribbled in red marker, macaroni stars and once glitter covered foam gingerbread men.  It is an annual homage to Eddie as a kid and Wayne adores it.  Despite the grumbling from his nephew, Wayne refuses to give it up, at least, not without a serious fight. Unimpressed, Eddie drones, “Very nice.  I like how you managed to keep all the ugly ornaments facing the window.  The neighbors are gonna love ‘em.” Incredulous, Wayne scoffs at his semi-scowling nephew, “They should!  I’m damned proud to have them.”  A heavy wave of nostalgia falls over the old man, making his proud chin quiver with unspoken words of affection for the little boy turned man standing in front of him.  Eddie hears the dip in his uncle’s voice, recognizing his yearly Christmas melancholy from a mile away.  What was it about this time of year that made everyone go a little nuttier than usual?  Was it the weather?  The food?  Or just the expectations that the holiday season seemed to carry? Screw that.  Eddie wasn’t going to give into the commercialized crap that seems to sweep everyone else along in December.  Christmas was for suckers and Eddie Munson was nobody’s fool.  Well, almost nobody’s fool.

His hand lands on Wayne’s shoulder, going for fondness while ignoring the emotions playing out behind his uncle’s faded eyes.  Softening a bit, Eddie offers an olive branch, “Wanna get drunk and watch White Christmas?  I had Steve snag it for me.” Patting at his damp cheeks, Wayne nods happily, sappily, “That sounds great-” The phone trills shrilly, cutting through their conversation and Wayne lifts his eyebrows in Eddie’s direction.  But his nephew shakes his head.  “Ignore it.  I’m exactly where I want to be.”  Whoever was looking to score was gonna have to call back. Three rings later and Wayne is practically shoving Eddie towards the receiver, “Just answer the damn thing!” Grumpy and gruff, he gives in, whipping up the phone, “Yea?” —-------------- It was December 23rd and the party at Barry’s house was winding down, thankfully.  People had been peeling off in pairs and trios, leaving just a few of your boyfriend’s buddies drinking the night away and ignoring you.  At some point you looked around and realized that Barry was just gone.  The house he grew up in- still lived in, with his family, was, in a word, enormous.  There were dozens of rooms and thousands of doors which made your search all the harder.  It was just like him to vanish, leaving you to fend for yourself when he had assured you that this time it would all be different. Arms circle your thick waist from behind as he pulls you into the second floor bathroom, pressing you against the granite countertop while lifting your pretty green skirt, “I’m so hard right now, gotta fuck you.” You giggle uncomfortably, already feeling a little too full of bubbling champagne, “Barry!   Here?  Now?” But you don’t get an answer beyond a rough tear in your tights, Barry’s fingers shifting your panties to the side abruptly, “Yea, right fucking now.”  And then he was pushed inside of you, his thrusts sloppy and bordering on painful as he drunkenly rubs at your full breasts through your sweater. If he was concerned with your needs, it didn’t show in the fast sawing motion of his hips, and before you could even trace the beginning of your own ending, Barry was babbling through his own.  Curving over your back, he pants in your ear, “Hmm, that was great.” Pulling out of you quickly, Barry tucks himself back into his chinos and presses a tiny kiss to your cheek, “Make sure you clean up before coming out to say goodbye to everyone.”  And then he’s gone, leaving you frustrated with sticky thighs. You thank a god you don’t believe in for birth control pills and shuffle over to the toilet, eager to tidy up the mess Barry had left in his wake.  Swiftly removing your torn pantyhose, you toss them in the trash can, regretting the loss.  Money wasn’t exactly tight, but you were trying to save as much as you could, unlike your upperclass boyfriend. Flushing behind you, you replace your panties and wash your hands.  Wiping some water over your cheeks, you smile at yourself in the mirror, confident that no one would know what had happened in the bathroom between you and Barry. Carefully, you shut the bathroom door, surprised when you hear voices, low pitched, in the nearby hallway.  Whispers that carry the weight of the familiar voice of your boyfriend begging quietly, “Come on baby, it’s Christmas.” “So?  You told me you were done with that trash, Barry and then, then you bring her here.  Throwing her in my face?  Are you trying to hurt me?” “Dawn, please.  You know I only want you.” “Barry, I want you too, baby.  But I won’t share you, not with someone like her-”  And then the sounds of sloppy kisses gain strength, complete with moans and grunting.  It was bordering on pornographic, like something private that shouldn’t be witnessed by anyone but those involved and you wish that you weren’t having to hear it at all. A gross knot of nausea welled up inside of you at the realization of what was happening, and so soon after Barry had cornered you in his bathroom.  Disgusted now, you knew you had to leave.  The sooner the better. On quiet feet you tiptoe into the nearest bedroom and choking back tears, reach for the phone.  Dialing the only number you can think of, the only you have committed to memory, you pray to that same god that he’ll pick up.  Finger twisting in the beige cord as you wait through four long rings, nervousness and shame filling your belly as you wait for the call to connect. “Yea?” His voice is gruff, grumpy, which takes you by surprise.  It makes your own sound small as you ask timidly, “Eddie?” “What’s wrong?  Where are you?”  It’s immediate, that change in tone, his understanding of your need, and you drop into a whisper, “Would it be too much trouble for you to come and get me?  I- I don’t think Barry-” He breaks in, direct and guarded, “Meet me at the corner.  I’ll be there in ten.”  The line went dead in your ear, a sure sign that Eddie was already en route to you. Sneaking away was easy when your boyfriend was frenching someone else and no one else at the party cared about you.  Scooping up your fuzzy holiday sweater, you went right out the front door into the chilly night, without anyone noticing.  Sobbing openly, you scurry to the corner, suddenly overeager to get away from this whole night.  Eddie told you ten minutes, but he made it in seven, the van idling loudly when you rounded the corner.  Dashing away tears, you climb into the heavenly heat of his vehicle, smiling tightly, “Hey Eddie.  Thank you so much, I just- I really needed to get out of there.” He eyes you, a look full of questions, but wisely Eddie asks none of them.  Waiting for you to buckle up, he rests a broad palm on your thigh, patting it twice, “No problem, sweets.  Where we headed?” “Just home, if that’s alright.  I’m- I’m kinda tired.” Putting the van in drive, he appraises you from the corner of his eye.  Something about you was so small tonight it made Eddie’s heart hurt.  When he heard you on the phone that damaged sound in your voice was enough to make his Spidey sense tingle.  It was wrong, the way you had whispered, asking- no, pleading for him to come and get you.  Wayne completely understood why he had to leave, even if it was in the middle of putting the final touches on their Munson Christmas traditions.  Besides, nothing was going to stop Eddie, not when you sounded so shattered.    Clearly something had happened, something not great.  And it was something big enough for you to run away from Barry’s huge holiday party, something you had been talking about for weeks.  So, while Eddie appreciates you calling him in your hour of need, he absolutely wants to know how to make it better for you and make sure that you’re really alright. “That’s okie-dokie artichokie.  But, uh, can you just tell me-” turning to you now, his deep eyes searching yours, full of concern, “-you’re not hurt, right?”  He couldn't stand to think about what he might be capable of if you said that you were, or had been.  But still, Eddie needed to make sure that you were okay for his own sanity’s sake.

You nod shyly, appreciating the kind hearted way that Eddie handles your privacy, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  Looking away, you hum lowly, “Yea, Ed.  I’m alright.”

“You sure?” “Uh huh.  Just got my heart hurt, so, ya know, nothing too serious.”  You try for lighthearted, breezy, but you don’t sell it because Eddie frowns, “Just your heart?  Oh, sweetheart.  I’m so sorry.” There’s a lot of things you find hard to bear, but Eddie’s pity is just too much.  It punches the air out of your lungs.  It crumples your bottom lip, setting your chin wobbling as you give into the burning tears of your heartbreak. Smoothly, Eddie pulls over although you’re not too far from home by now.  You can hear his seat belt unlock and then your own is set free so that Eddie can scoot you closer.  His chin rests on the top of your head as you cry into his neck, his voice soothing as he comforts you, “It’s ok.  It’s going to be alright, sweetheart.  You’re going to be ok.  Hush now.” You don’t know how long you let Eddie console you, his leather jacket warm under your damp cheek, but eventually the sobs become sniffles and the sniffles fade to hiccups.  Pulling out of the comfort of Eddie’s embrace, your eyes red and cheeks chapped, you lament thickly, “I got you all wet!  I’m so sorry, Ed!” “Hey, stop that.  I’m fine.”  Brushing wayward hair from your streaky and sticky face, Eddie tuts, “Are you sure you’re alright?” “Yea.”  It’s sad sounding, but you’re being honest.  You will be ok once you get home, have a shower, and start putting Barry behind you.  It helps to have a friend like Eddie Munson there to offer his shoulder to cry on. He fusses over you for another minute, wiping away the crystalline dew of your tears with his thumbs, “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” Eddie makes you stay in your seat until he can open the door for you, like a gentleman should, and walks you to your door.  His hand is loosely holding yours as you slide your key into the lock.  Almost embarrassed, you look his way, suddenly shy again, “Wanna come in?  I’ve got some beer and I think The Grinch is on tonight.” Laughing a little, Eddie shrugs, agreeing easily but still giving you the option for backing out, “Alright, if you don’t mind?” “Of course not.”  Once inside you slink out of your coat and motion for Eddie to do the same, “Have a seat.  I’ll be right back with something to drink.” Your place was very sweet, just like you, with a tinsel tree glowing with colored lights and other small holiday decorations set out just so.  It seems to Eddie like you’re also on the Christmas Crazy-Train.  There are two small boxes laying on the red plaid skirt beneath the tree and a single stocking tacked under the television stand.  He half expects you to leave out some cookies and milk, as if Santa was going to shimmy down your chimney tomorrow night and deliver you a Christmas miracle.  Eddie couldn’t help it.  He thought it was precious, sorta like you.  And if he’s being honest, he feels as though his own Christmas miracle is happening, right here, right now.  For two long years, you had been friendly, a close relationship beginning when you both reached for a recently returned copy of Evil Dead at Family Video.  In a moment of unprecedented cool guy maneuvering, Eddie’s suggestion that you come over to his place and watch it together.  When you agreed, offering him that sweet smile of yours, well, that had started everything.  He didn’t regret it, couldn’t even if he wanted to.  It wasn’t your fault that Eddie was using you as the standard against which all other ladies in his life would be judged.  And even though, in a bunch of unsuccessfully small ways, Eddie had tried to nudge your friendship in a more romantic direction, he was still as sprung on you as he had been from that very first moment. Now, he was here, with you, and so close to the big holiday.  It felt like his own Christmas miracle might be possible, if he believed in that kind of stuff- which he didn’t.  Because Christmas was a commercial product.  It was soulless, despite what people said to the contrary. But still, he rubbed his hands over his thighs nervously as he thought that maybe tonight was the night.  Tonight you would see him as the charming, romantic leading man that you deserved in your life and not just the guy who bailed you out when trouble came around.  Eddie’s seen enough of the fluffy, feel-good films that capitalize on the holiday season to recognize that he may be a part of one, with you. Because it couldn’t just be a coincidence that you called him on Christmas Eve, needing help and knowing exactly where to go to get it, right?  From the sound of things, Barry was quickly moving out of the boyfriend column and into the exes pile.  Another coincidence?  He sure as shit hoped not, but Eddie can’t get his hopes up, they’ve been dashed too many times.  With eyes that couldn’t seem to settle on anything in particular, Eddie’s mind strays to the countless other times where you had required rescuing and he had charged, nobly, into the fray.  Finding you crying on the nearest corner after running out on Barry’s insensitivity, pulling up in his ratty van outside of a party where you had clearly been unhappy, and once driving to the Indiana state border to fetch you from another one of your idiot boyfriend’s debacles.  Each time he promised himself that it was the last time- that he was going to protect himself, he was going to stop answering the phone, he was going to tell you how he felt.  But the calls, they just kept coming.  Happening way too frequently for his liking, the worn muscle of his heart tightening every time Eddie had to hear you sob, or listen to you talk about the belittling way Barry treated you.  Over and over again, you let the guy break your heart, only to take him back after some groveling and half meant apologies.  And over and over again, Eddie could feel his own aortic organ shriveling up from the knowledge that you refuse to see him as anything more than your second choice.  Tensing, he rubbed the back of his, wondering why he was here, waiting for you. Sometimes, it seemed to Eddie, like he was always just waiting around for your next phone call, your next emergency.  On hold until the phone rang, on the shelf, out of use.  Sure, he went out, hanging around other people; Steve and Robin, obviously, the Hellfire crew, his band.  Other than that, Eddie was at home, puttering around, on alert for the jingling ring that means you’re tagging him in for an assist.  And he hates it.  He truly does, because even though he hasn’t said it in exactly these words, Eddie needs you too.  Even more than that, he needs you to need him.  It gives him a purpose, a reason for sticking around this one horse town that isn’t connected to tragedy or trauma.  You were unavailable, sure, but always present, the living embodiment of his happiness and his sadness.  Eddie couldn’t help that the ache of wanting you for his own and always coming up short, time after time, was starting to splinter him into pieces. Snapping his head up at the scuffing steps you made, you pad back into the room wearing a cozy flannel nightgown, complete with elastic wrist cuffs and satin covered buttons at the throat.  In place of your make-up was a scrubbed clean face, glowing from the effort.  Your heels had been replaced by a pair of simple slippers.  Eddie swallows thickly, all of his other thoughts knocked out of his head.  Never had a woman been more covered up and still so alluring.  The old fashioned sleep shirt skimmed over the sweeping curve of your hips, but still managed to show off your shapely legs and graceful neck.  He isn’t sure why it affected him so much, this comfortable and easy version of you, but it did. “Do you still want a beer?”

He’s seen your mouth move, shaping the sounds of your question, but Eddie is dumbstruck by the innocent version of you hovering at the doorway.  Tossing his head, mostly to clear away the fog of his want, he croaked, “What?”

Giggling softly, you take a step closer, “I asked if you were thirsty.  Still want that drink?” “Oh, that?  Yea, yea sure.”  Knowing that he must seem mental, Eddie shifted on the couch, rolling his eyes at his own erratic behavior. From over your shoulder you ask him to turn on the tv, “The Grinch is on channel five, I think.” “Gotcha!”  The snap of the television coming to life fills the small space and you were practically running around the corner by the time Boris Karloff starts his narration.  Plopping down right next to Eddie, you gently hand him a bottle and drop a bag of chips onto the table, “Just in case we get hungry.” “Uh huh.  Since when do you like Doritos, huh?”  Flicking at the plastic bag, Eddie gives you a friendly side-eye look, full of teasing. Settling back into the cushions, you tug Eddie’s arm around your shoulders, “Since I’ve been forced to eat them with you.” An appreciative tone rang out from Eddie’s chest as you pressed your ear over the dip in his torso, right over his heart.  The gentle, even rhythm you found there was one of your favorite things and you took every available opportunity to listen to Eddie’s heartbeat.  You couldn’t say why it was important or what it was about his particular pulse that made you feel better, but it did, and Eddie, well, he never seems to mind. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, petting sweetly over the strands of your hair that trailed down towards your shoulders and he saw you shiver, “Here.”  Eddie tugged the knitted afghan from the back of the couch, tucking it in around you. Sighing, you snuggled into him, letting your eyes shut, feeling truly and completely at ease finally, “Hmm, thanks babe.”  Babe?  Oh shit.  That wasn’t good.  Not for his spiraling thoughts. Sipping his beer, he refocused on the green Grinch stomping on the screen.  He couldn’t bear to look at you.  Looking at you, right now, was dangerous.  You were too precious.  And the scene around him was too domestic.  It was exactly what life should look like if you weren’t the town scapegoat, raised by your uncle in the worst part of town and Eddie didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid in pursuit of that idealized image. Against his thigh, Eddie felt you shift as you drifted off.  You were practically in his lap with your head nuzzled into the center of his chest, eyes gently shut.  If he wasn’t careful, Eddie was going to enjoy holding you like this, so close and so easy, a little too much. The Grinch was complaining about noise and Eddie understood the sentiment a little too well because right now he was struggling to ignore the little kitten snores you were making with every exhale.  Your tiny huffed puffs blowing against his tummy, beer scented and sweet. He smiled down at you, full of affection and pulled you tighter to his side.  Unable to stop himself, Eddie brushed a peck to your upturned forehead, whispering a rueful “Fuck” into the night. When The Grinch ended and Charlie Brown’s Christmas started, Eddie sat still, his empty beer bottle in his hand, afraid that any movement would wake you up.  A news broadcast, filled with updates on the coming snow storm’s progress and holiday toy drive details wrapped up before the intro to Johnny Carson began.  Through it all, Eddie kept his arm around you, enjoying the worn in feel of your nightgown under his hand and the way you were burrowed into the crook of his shoulder. It was hard to be in your space so intimately and not touch you, even if his hands burned at the effort of keeping them to himself.  So, he didn’t trace the sweet sweep of your nose or tuck your hair behind your ears.  And somehow, Eddie managed to keep from pulling you into his lap fully, just to pet you, like he would a sleeping kitten.  Instead, he relished the trust you put in him, content to imagine happy kisses shared between the pair of you, while you dreamed next to him on the sofa. And you slept just like that, curled into Eddie Munson’s warmth until the strains of the National Anthem faded into staticy snow.  You sat up quickly, pulling back from the shared heat you and Eddie had created with a yawn.  Blinking his way sheepishly, your words full of drowsiness, “Sorry Ed- Did-” you rubbed your still sleepy eyes, “Did you- did you stay all this time just to let me sleep?” It was his turn to look bashful, and glancing out your window, Eddie nodded, “Yea.  What can I say?  You were too cute to move, sweetheart.” Snorting, you rolled your eyes at his kind words, “Oh, I bet I was!  All drooly and-” But he cut you off with a firm finger under your chin that yanked you near enough for his lips to press into your own.  A hungry sound, the kind a man makes when he’s digging into his favorite dinner, rolled through Eddie as you let your mouth part.  Thick and probing, Eddie licked over your bottom lip, letting the kiss deepen as your hands tangled into the second skin of his t-shirt. His forehead rested against your own, chest rising and falling rapidly, as Eddie’s dark eyes locked on yours, “Hey.” “Hey,” you echoed, keenly aware of Eddie’s presence in your sphere, breathing him in with short inhales as you tried to quiet your racing heart. Hands that you know as well as your own come down to cup your face, handling you as if you were porcelain- precious beyond measure and utterly breakable, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Looking like a happy kid on Christmas morning, Eddie’s dimples show as he smiles your way, his fingers threading with yours.  Falling back into his original spot, he drags you with him, eager to have you in his arms, but you hold yourself back, teeth toying at your bottom lip as you blurt, “But Barry.  He’s-” Your words stick in your throat at the sight of Eddie’s crestfallen face, a new iciness filling each syllable, “What?  He’s what, sweetheart?”  When you don’t answer right away, a rage that he normally can keep in check threatens to overflow, as Eddie carried on in a rising voice, “I’ve seen- shit-” a fist slams into the meat of his thigh, his anger focused on that one spot as hurt filled eyes find yours in the silver light of the running television, “-I’ve seen what he’s done to you.  How he treats you.  How he hurts you over and over.”  Slender fingers reach for your cheek but Eddie doesn’t touch you.  Instead he lets his hand drop into his lap, his heart falling into the abyss as he manages to choke out, “And still, you’d rather be with him?” For a long second you didn’t answer, your brain too full of thoughts.  A lot had happened in the few minutes since you woke up, huddled around Eddie’s middle and you still weren’t thinking straight.  How could you after an incredible kiss like that? And Barry.  What about him?  Were you together?  You didn’t think so, not after what you had overheard, but that final conversation hadn’t happened yet.

Eddie’s words surround you though, the pain in them unmistakable.  Shaking your head slowly, you huskily counter, “I didn’t say that, Eddie.  It’s just-” But he pushed to his feet without giving you a chance to explain.  Swinging his jacket over his broad shoulders with furious flare, “Ya know, what?  Don’t.  I don’t wanna know.  Just uh-” in three long strides Eddie’s jerked open your front door.  His back is to you, the handsome face that you’ve come to associate with protection and honor haloed by the streetlights, Eddie chokes out over his shoulder, “Merry Christmas.”

Your door, red bowed wreath swinging, slammed shut and now, now your apartment feels really empty, cold.  The lights on your tree seem garish and glaring as this year’s holiday slowly but surely becomes the worst kind of memory.  Feelings that you’re too tired to process flow through you, but in the end you drag yourself to bed in the early hours of Christmas morning, wishing it all away as a bad dream. Flopping into bed, you clutched your pillow in your arms, disappointed that it didn’t have a pulse to share with you.  Already missing Eddie, you kicked yourself for being so indecisive, for ruining the precious seconds where only you and he existed in the twinkling glow of Christmas lights.  Pale sunlight was streaking the sky when you finally closed your eyes, hoping that you’d wake up to a world that was back in its proper alignment. Only, morning finds you, just the same, and unfortunately, there are no singing Whos to make you feel better about the night before.  There’s no one to kiss you awake and wish you a Merry Christmas Eve or tell you about the snow that is just starting to fall in fat, perfect flakes.  You don’t have anyone to cook for or watch open gifts.  It’s just you, all by yourself. It was always going to be a small Christmas, you knew that, truly.  You didn’t have much family and only a few friends, except for the people you met through your boyfriend or Eddie.  In fact, the gifts laying under the tree had been for them, of course.  Now they both were ghosts: Christmas Past and Christmas Present. At some point you throw yourself onto the couch, clicker in one hand, a can of Coke in the other even though it was still breakfast time.  It was around that time he’d called, much too early for your liking, so you let the machine get it.  With a self assured voice that proved how little he understood or cared about you, Barry had left a message asking you to bring a dessert when you came for dinner that night.  A last minute request for a last minute invitation.  He was so sorry, but you would do it, right? His call went unreturned.  Angry, you immediately erased the tape and took the phone off the hook.  After last night with Eddie, you were fairly certain that no one else was going to be calling.  Not on Christmas Eve when there were presents and parties and people to enjoy. Besides, all this silence gave you time to think, so while Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby tap danced across the twelve inch screen of your tv, you did just that.  And if your eyes got misty at Rosemary Clooney’s gift of a knight on a white horse, then that was just how good the movie was, right?  It didn’t have a single thing to do with a certain man willing to ride into battle on your behalf, over and over and over again. The more you thought, the more you realized that Eddie hadn’t been wrong about the ways in which Barry failed you as a boyfriend.  He had been treating you like garbage for a very long time, longer than anyone should tolerate, but when you had so little, even the scraps seemed significant.  Swallowing down your less than festive Swanson’s turkey dinner lunch, you realized that you didn’t want scraps- not anymore. Changing the channel, Jimmy Stewart’s drawl takes over the room, but you're not thinking about bells ringing.  You’re thinking about Eddie, again.  Still.  You’re thinking about how, even now, your nightie smells like tobacco and light beer and old leather.  You’re thinking about the sacred synth beating of his heart and how it always seems to settle you.  You’re thinking about that tender kiss he laid on you when your brain was still fuzzy but your body knew just how to respond.

You’re thinking about Eddie this Christmas Eve, but is he thinking about you?

— Eddie has never been more miserable in life.  Surrounded by all of his friends, gorging themselves on pie and turkey and ham and potatoes and cookies cut to look like snowmen, mittens or bells, Eddie is cursing the whole Christmas season.  All of the trappings are just red and green reminders of what he doesn’t have, what he can’t enjoy, what he had with you last night when you were tucked into him, safe and sound, while The Grinch stole Christmas.  “What’s eating you?”  Steve’s got a small paper plate in his hand, balancing a slice of lasagna along with a piece of cake that’s been stabbed through by a white plastic fork, as he dropped down beside Eddie. “Nothing.”  Leaning his chin into his hand, Eddie’s elbow dug into the meat of his thigh, a grouchy position for a grouchy guy. Licking frosting off his fork, Steve hummed, “No way.  Something’s got you all pissy.  Pissier than usual- and on Christmas too!  Come on, lay it on me.” Rolling his eyes Steve’s direction, Eddie sat back reluctantly, “I- I think I fucked up.” Steve’s bite of lasagna hovered in midair, between the plate and his open mouth, as he tossed his infamous locks, “Impossible.  It’s Christmas.” “What’s that got to do with it?”  Eddie grumbled, sitting up swiftly.  Really, was that any kind of explanation?  It was December 25th so your life couldn’t be totally screwed up?  Humbug. Chewing loudly, Steve nodded, holding up a finger as a silent indicator for Eddie to wait up until he swallowed.  With a sip of his egg nog, Steve twisted in Eddie’s direction, “Well, first, everyone loves Christmas.  Everyone but you, I mean.  It makes people feel better.  Want to be better, do better, ya know?” “So?”  “So, you’re more likely to be forgiven for fucking up.  I mean, shit.  Nance and I got back together over Christmas.  It’s magical, dude.” Blowing out a noise that was similar to a fart, Eddie shook his head in frustration, “It’s a day, Harrington.  One day out of 365.  Why does everyone make such a big deal-” “Are you kidding me?  Have you like, never seen A Christmas Carol or, or watched ‘Rudolph’?”  Confused, Eddie shrugs, “I have, but-” “But what?  All the songs, the movies, the stories, they’re all about loving each other- and, and being kind at Christmas time.” Throwing up his hands, Eddie stared at his friend, his smile sort of sad, “Well, what if you kiss someone who’s still hung up on their asshole boyfriend?” With rounding, wide eyes, Steve stuttered, “You- you kissed her?  It’s about damn time, man!” Flopping back, his long haired head resting against the tall cushion of the Wheeler’s couch, Eddie groused, “Naw, Harrington.  She-” sighing deeply, willing the pain out of his tone, “-she’d rather stay with Barry.” Steve tossed down the empty plate, standing quickly, “No.  Nope.  Nuh uh.” Looking around, shocked by Steve’s sudden movements, Eddie can’t help asking, “What’s happening, Steve?” Bending at the waist, his handsome forelock falling forward, Steve’s hands find his hips as he admonishes the depressed rocker in front of him, “I’ll tell you what’s happening.  You’re getting up and going over there.  You have to talk to her, man.” Glaring up at his friend from under his shaggy bangs, Eddie shook his head defiantly, “No way.  No fucking way.  She-” Leaning down further, dad stance activated, Steve snapped, “Do you like her?  Do you-” pausing to cock an eyebrow skyward, “-love her?” Gulping guiltily, Eddie’s head bounced in response as Steve added, “I thought so.  Well, the good thing for you is that this magical day isn’t over.  You never know what might happen if you go and talk to her.  I mean, it’s Christmas, man.  And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find out you didn’t fuck up everything after all.” “Is this some kinda motivational speech, Harrington?”  Tilting his head as that wicked grin spread over his face, Eddie isn’t laughing at Steve, but he can’t help mocking him just a little bit. Confusion filling his face, Steve faltered for a second, “Uh, is- is it working?” Genuinely this time, Eddie smiled genuinely, “Yea, I think it is.” Straightening his spine, resolute, Steve countered, “Then, yes.  I’m motivating you with my speech.  Now, uh, get lost, Munson.”  Offering his unlikely friend a hand, Steve pulled Eddie to his feet and was already ushering him towards the door. “Alright, but if this backfires, I’m coming back here and kicking your ass to the tune of Jingle Bells.” “Fair enough.”  Steve tapped him twice on the back as Eddie slid towards the van, his sneakers not offering much traction in the snow, “Go get her, Munson.” Eddie started the van and gave Steve a thumbs up before backing slowly out of the driveway.  For some reason, his heart felt lighter, buoyed by the pep talk from his buddy.  Maybe Steve was right.  Maybe there was a way to save this Christmas after all. Mind whirling, he was already planning out what to say to you- an apology to start.  And he was sorry.  Sorry for kissing you out of the blue.  Sorry for not telling you how he felt.   Sorry for talking about your boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend?  Whatever the hell he was now.  But mostly, Eddie was sorry for walking away without telling you what was going on inside his head.  You deserved that much at least. Snow was falling faster now, dusting the whole town in powdered sugar whiteness, and he found himself hunching over the steering wheel to see better between the drifting flakes.  His defrost was working overtime, struggling to keep the fog off his windshield, as he cursed, “Jesus Christ!” As he got closer to your place his headlights illuminated a person, bundled up like a snowman, trudging along the barely plowed street.  Shaking his head as he slowly rolled past, Eddie couldn’t understand what would possess someone to do something like that, even if it was Christmas Eve.  What was so damned important that you went out in bad weather, a soggy sack of gifts melting under the swiftly shifting snow, he’d like to know. Pressing on the brake, Eddie stopped, disbelief flooding him.  “No.  No way-”

— Snow was dropping down in gentle swirls when you decided that you had to see Eddie, regardless of the fading sunlight, before Christmas Eve came to a close.  Too much had been said, too much left unsaid, for your mind to let it go.  Not to mention the way your heart ached dully when you thought about the wounded look on his face before he’d left you, stunned and speechless, after that tasty kiss. No.  It was Christmas, dammit.  And at Christmas, you told people how much they meant to you.  How much you needed them.  How much you relied on their strength, their warmth, their willingness to take teary phone calls at all hours of the night and then come rescue you from shitty situations time and again.  How much you, gulp, loved them. It was Christmas Eve and you were only just now realizing that there was one person who you needed to make the holiday happy and bright.  One dark hued, leather wearing metal head who just happens to be the white knight of your personal story.  You just hoped it wasn't too little, too late. Jamming his gift into a bag, you dressed as warmly as you could, layering up like a cake before lacing up your boots.  Pulling on a striped winter hat, complete with a fuzzy pom pom on top, you zipped up your heavy coat and stepped outside, shivering in the chill.  You didn’t have a car of your own, so you were going for a wintery walk to the trailer park, all in the name of love.

With a foggy exhale, you hummed to yourself, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful-” On a good day, the walk to Eddie’s place was about fifteen minutes.  Today, Christmas Eve, during a snowstorm, that quarter of an hour turns into forty five minutes easily.  Color rose up on your cheeks, across your nose, and the tips of your ears.  Anywhere you couldn’t cover with a scarf or coat was chapping in the cold air.  And you had long ago stopped your singing. Forced to walk on the road since most of the sidewalks were untreated, you didn’t mind, but you were incredibly cautious about oncoming traffic.  You wanted to talk to Eddie, not get turned into road pizza on the biggest holiday of the year, so you are walking into the wind and making yourself as visible as possible in the coming dusk.  Still, it required a lot of effort on your part, even if you had started to question the sanity of your idea.

Headlights catch your eye and you raise a hand to block the brightness.  The driver was going slow due to the snow and you move as far to the side as you can while also avoiding a slushy splash.  Tucking further into your scarf, you trudged on, rehearsing the speech you were going to give when Eddie opened his trailer door. And maybe that’s why you didn’t notice when the passing vehicle slid to a stop before reversing on the empty roadway.  All you know is that one second you were inside your head, white flakes flying past in swirling cyclones, and the next you hear a shout, “What the hell are you doing?” “Eddie?”  Stopping short, your head snapped up at a voice you know as well as your own. He was out of the van in a flash, his hands gripping onto your shoulders tightly, “It’s cold as fuck out here, not to mention snowing like crazy, and you’re just- just walking around?” Tipping your chin up, you eyed him from under the brim of your stocking cap, “I was going to your place.  I- I have a gift-” “A gift?  Sweet fucking Christ!  You coulda been killed!  A car could have- or, or, you could have slipped on ice and hit your head.  I mean, do you have any idea-”  Horrible scenario after horrible scenario filled Eddie’s mind.  Worrying about what could have happened to you and knowing that it hadn’t could not stop the flipped switch of his panic.  With a cracking voice, Eddie pulled you into his heart, his warmth, questioning you brokenly, “What if I hadn’t seen you?  What if- what if something happened to you and I wasn’t able to stop it.  To save you?” 

His grip tightens around you and your bulky coat, almost lifting you off the ground, “What would I do if-” A sweet half smile curls over your face as you put a mittened hand over his chest, cutting him off, “Eddie.” Your voice stills him, those wide burnt sugar eyes locking on yours, as he tips your head up, “Yea?” Pushing up onto the toes you could barely feel, you pressed a chaste kiss to Eddie’s warm mouth, lingering in his cinnamon gum scented sphere.  For a second, he froze, your cold nose rubbing against his as your eyes fluttered shut.  Then, his arms pulled you as close as your jacket allowed, those lips of his finding your chapped ones with a happy hum. Heat rushed through you, a welcome change from the dropping temperatures out on the snowy street.  Only this heat was spreading from the clenching muscles in your tummy, a fire ignited by the wanting way Eddie moaned into your mouth.  His nimble tongue danced alongside yours as the sky deepened into an inky indigo, dotted with picture perfect snowflakes.  Fingers, pinkening from the cold air, tug on the ends of your scarf ensuring that you can’t get away from Eddie this time. He didn’t need to worry.  You weren’t going anywhere, not without Eddie Munson, anyway.  Not anymore. Parting in a puff of heavy air that turned silver in the snowy night, Eddie’s forehead bumped against the cuff of your cap, a goofy grin making his dimples impossible to ignore, “Hey.” “Hey.”  Looking up at him through the curve of your lashes, expectant and excited, you were waiting to see what Eddie’s next move would be. You were rosy from cold, eyes shining bright in the fading light of day, and Eddie had never wanted you more.  Swallowing thickly, you watched his Adam’s Apple bob while his arms rubbed over your thick sleeves, “Can I- Will you let me take you home?” Biting into your bottom lip, you nod quickly, “Yea.  Yes, please.” Guiding you, Eddie ensured that you’re safely situated in the passenger seat before securing your buckle and shutting the door.  You giggled as he moved around the front of the van, slipping in the slush, his face illuminated in the headlights.  Catching your eye, he winks wickedly and then is seamlessly sliding behind the steering wheel with a wild toss of his snow-dampened hair, “Where to m’lady?” Sighing deeply, but happily, you pull off your winter hat, staticy strands sticking up at odd angles, “I’d normally say take me home, but-” “But?”  There’s caution in Eddie’s voice.  Like a skim of ice on the lake, things between you are still tentative- not solid, and he has a momentary lapse of confidence. Laying a hand on his denim clad thigh, leaning closer to reassure him, you shrugged, “But I don’t want to be alone.  Not tonight.  It’s Christmas Eve.” It gives Eddie an idea.  A wonderful idea.  A perfect, Hallmark Card, winter wonderland idea. “Ok, but just remember… You asked for it.”  His tone is playful when Eddie swings the van in a circle, turning from the direction of your place back the way he came. Oh, he’s nervous.  There weren’t a lot of people who had been to his trailer; just the closest, dearest of friends.  Steve had seen the inside of the clean and cozy space a time or two, Robin and Nancy for sure, but mostly, Eddie was the guy pulling up to your place, not the other way around. A small Christmas tree, loaded with lights and ornaments faced the gravelly road where Eddie’s uncle was already parked.  There’s strands of blinking lights criss-crossing the awning and a small sign that says, “Santa Stop Here” propped up on the porch.  It’s a sweet sight, a glowing, golden invitation on a cold and snowy Christmas night and you can’t help the dopey look of glee on your face at what you’re seeing. Pulling the van in smoothly, Eddie held up a hand, “Wait, k?  I haven’t been here to shovel.” Agreeing with a head bob, you sat patiently as he stomped around, snow high enough to cover his sneakers.  Snagging your bag, you are prepared to step into the snow, but Eddie doesn’t give you the chance.  One foot touched the ground and then he’s bear hugging you, walking you straight to the stairs as you laugh, “What are you doing?” “Keeping you from getting cold feet.  Obviously!”  Once he’s sure you’re on the firm ground of his steps, Eddie bounced back and kicked the van’s door closed. He brushed by you, his hand finding your elbow so that he could haul you inside, calling out warmly, “Hey, Uncle Wayne!  Hope you don’t mind-” An older, more worn in version of Eddie, minus the long locks, popped a head out from the kitchenette, “Wha?  Oh.  Oh, we’ve got company then?” Wiping his hands on a well used dish cloth, he moved closer, arms wide, “I’m Eddie’s uncle- Wayne, in case you didn’t get that part.”  The hug is crushing and so full of tenderness that you can’t help but wrap your arms around this new person, squeezing hard as he welcomes you.  Stepping back, Uncle Wayne kept a firm hand on you, but eyed Eddie steadily, “Your phone call, I take it?” Chuckling nervously, Eddie rubbed a palm across the back of his neck, ruffling his hair in the process.  He’s never been able to hide much from his uncle, this is no exception, and he can tell that he’s busted.  “Yea, Wayne.  She’s the one who called last night.” A look passed between them, approving and accepting, before Wayne clapped his hands, asking, “Are ya hungry, darling?  It’s not much, but it’s our tradition, so to speak.” “If you don’t mind?  I-” “Mind?”  Wayne says it as if he’s offended by the idea, “You’ll be doing me a favor.  Keep this one-” pointing at Eddie with an up turned thumb, “-on his best behavior.  Come on!” Your jacket disappeared into a closet somewhere and Eddie helped you shuck the soaking boots you’ve been wearing for much too long.  Excusing yourself, you duck into the bathroom, and when you come back, there’s a heartwarming scene unfolding in front of you.  Wayne and Eddie, setting an extra place at the table, grumbling about the “good china” which you can tell is paper plates.  Stopping, Wayne appraised his nephew for beat as Eddie centered a folded paper towel over your spot.  A small smile pulled at the corners of his uncle’s mouth before Wayne dragged Eddie into an unwilling hug that ended with a firm clap on the younger man’s back.  You swing back into the room at the sound, “This- this looks great, you guys!” A pot of macaroni and cheese, neon orange and buttery, sits in the center of the table.  There’s a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches, cut into triangles and piled high on a Miller High Life tin tray, next to a bowl of salad greens.  A big bottle of ranch dressing standing proudly at its side. “It’s not traditional, I guess-”  Eddie started but Uncle Wayne cut him off, “It’s our tradition!  All of Eddie’s favorite food is here.  Except the salad, of course.” “Except the salad.”  He echoed his uncle, offering you a sandwich from the tray while his teeth pinch the fat of his lip, desperate for your acceptance. He had no reason to worry.  It’s just so lovely to be with other people, especially guys like the Munson boys.  They pass around bottles of beer, telling stories, making you laugh so hard that your stomach muscles ache from it.  From deeper in the trailer you heard the sound of an alarm clock buzzing and Uncle Eddie exhaled hard, “Well children, I have to get going.” Looking up from your seat at their table, you questioned, “No!  You’re not leaving are you?” Taking one of your hands in his, Wayne pats it gently, “Double time at the plant is too good to pass up, even if the company is as excellent as yours, darling.” Pouting, you let your bottom lip stick out and Eddie is struck by an urge to kiss you stupid.  Instead of whipping you into his arms in front of his uncle, Eddie stood up and started clearing the table, “Ok, old man.  You can stop flirting with her now.” “Me?  I would never!”  And you could hear the same teasing tone in Uncle Wayne’s voice that Eddie has inherited.  It’s flattering and flustering at the same time and you just knew that they could feel the flush of heat radiating off of you from the attention they both give you. “Yea, yea.  Here-”  Eddie handed a small box to Wayne, “-Food, for tonight’s shift.”  “Thanks, son.”  Turning in your chair you watched Wayne shrug on his coat, popping the collar up high to block some of the snow that’s still falling.  At the doorway he nodded your direction, “Don’t be a stranger young lady.  Merry Christmas to you both!”

And then the trailer goes quiet.  Eddie pivoted fast, big eyes finding yours, and you both started laughing again. “Shit!  I mean, I knew Uncle Wayne had moves, I’ve just never seen them in action like that before.” Feigning innocence, you placed a hand over your heart, “Do you mean to tell me that he was flirting?  My, my, you Munson men must have a type!” Eddie’s chuckle petered out, his face growing serious, as he looked you over, “Yea.  We do.  Pretty ladies who uh, who walk through snow storms and love The Grinch.” You didn’t laugh because it wasn’t funny anymore.  Reaching out his hand, Eddie lifted you to your feet, spinning you in place before bringing his hands to your hips.  “Hey, hang on, k?” Nodding, you missed his presence when he stepped up to the record player hidden in the corner of the living room.  The speakers spring to life, and with a triumphant grunt, Eddie placed a 45 on the turntable before returning to you.  Nat King Cole started to croon about chestnuts and open fires, but you’re hardly listening. You’re caught up in the way Eddie’s eyes reflect the multi-colored lights of his cute Christmas tree, reds and greens and yellows and blues.  The feeling of his hands swaying you back and forth, moving you where he needed you to be, is intoxicating, heady.  Drawing your palms over his forearms, you slid them higher, higher, higher, until you could lace them behind Eddie’s neck. He stretched against your folded fingers, looking down at you, “I’m really glad that you came over tonight.  I don’t think Wayne will ever get over it.” Snickering sweetly, you wet your lips, “He loves you.” “He’s the only one.” Shaking your head, your hooded gaze never leaving his, you countered, “Uh uh.  That’s not true.” Eddie tilted his head, studying your expression, “You calling me a liar, sweetheart?” His tone was playful but the tenor was low, raspy, grating, and you matched it when you answered, “Yea, maybe I am.” “Are you saying that you love me?”  Whispering, just in case he was dreaming, just in case he had to deny that these words had ever been spoken, Eddie paused all movement. You nod, yes, but it’s not enough.  Not for Eddie.  Not tonight.  “Please, I need- I need you to say it.” A clock ticked away the seconds while you peered into the hot cocoa gaze of the only man you truly trusted, “I love you, Eddie.  I- I think I always have, really.” If you could capture an image to look over forever, it would be the face Eddie made at your husky confession.  The unadulterated joy that crowds his features made you think about New Year’s Eve fireworks, exploding and expanding as they brilliantly burst.  Eddie broke your hold on him, his fingers threaded between your own as he brought a hand up to press a little kiss to your knuckles. “I know.  It took you long enough to realize it, though, sweetheart.” Looking away from him, a stupid, giddy smile grew across your face.  You rolled your eyes, “Maybe I was waiting for the right moment?  ‘Tis the season, ya know?” Eddie didn’t reply, at least not with words.  He picked his moment and using your waist as leverage, snugged you tight to his lean body.  One arm braced along your spine as his other hand cupped your bountiful bottom, tipping you off center a bit so that he could wrap your leg over his hip. He’s so solid, so sturdy, that you melted into the embrace, letting Eddie support you entirely as you gripped at his firm biceps.  That curtain of ebony hair brushed against your cheek as your mouth searched for and found more of Eddie to taste.  Mewling against his lips, you could feel his growing excitement and your core pulsed with need at the idea of having all of Eddie, all for yourself. Pinching your bottom, Eddie straightened you both up, jerking his head towards the small room at the end of the hall, “Come on.” A little light headed, you followed where he led, landing in his personal domain.  It’s a space dominated by his love of music and all things D&D related, and it smelled so good, so right, that you launched yourself in his direction, needy lips already moving in on him.  Eddie met you there, in the middle, ready and wanting. Longing for him, you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to feel Eddie under your hands.  Gliding higher, Eddie chuckled, catching your hands in one of his, “Your hands are freezing!” “Sorry!”  You rubbed them together, blowing on them, trying to warm them up as quickly as possible. “S’ok, I got you.”  He stepped away and crossed his hands at the bottom of his shirt before ripping it off in one fluid motion.  Eddie is stunning.  His compact and constant strength is evident in the smooth lines of his chest, his tattoos a road map to pleasure.  You didn’t know whether to touch him, or kiss him, or lick him- your thoughts derailed entirely when he tisked, “Um, see something you like?” Beneath your hands Eddie felt so substantial, so solid.  Tracing his ribs, you leaned in to kiss the places where black ink outlined the images associated with his rock and roll persona, keeping a hold on his trim waist.  When you reached the hollow of his chest, the place that hovered above his heart, you lingered long enough to purple the skin there as yours.  Home. It’s the sort of attention that Eddie isn’t accustomed to- someone showering him in affection.  The time its taken for your tongue to lick lines over his pecs, press kisses across his collar bone, nips at the cologne stained skin of his neck, feels like decades.  Eons.  Ages. But he let you take that time.  Breathing became a struggle, especially when you purse your lips and sucked little red splotches over the length of his core, your still chilly fingers dug into the muscles of his back as a reminder for him to keep still.  Tentatively, you played with his belt, not wanting to show just how eager you truly were in this moment. He doesn’t stop you, instead Eddie moves your hands to his handcuff shaped buckle, encouraging you, “Yea, go ahead, babe.  I- I want you to.” Jumping at the contact, Eddie’s stomach muscles contracted and he hissed.  Dropping to your knees, you pushed his jeans down, down, down, and tapped his calf.  It was a silent way of telling him to move his feet so you could get his pesky pants off of him. From this position, Eddie stood tall and straight like a mythological hero above you.  Other guys might have tried to hide their growing erections, crossing their hands over any visible sign of their desire, but that’s not Eddie’s style.  If anything, he parted his legs, widening his stance to showcase his masculine power.  And if the boxers he wore weren’t covered in Santa faces, then you were certain his manliness would have overpowered you. “Ah!  These are very cute.”  Flicking at the hem of his shorts, you had to tease him.  You have to lighten the mood otherwise, you were going to combust right to ash at his feet. “‘Tis the season- isn’t that what you said?”  Throwing your words back at you, Eddie let his fingers tangle in your hair, urging your head back as your dewey mouth parted. You were so close to him, to his aching stiffness, that all his willpower is being channeled into behaving.  It would be all too easy to dig his thumbs into the pudgy flesh of your cheeks, keeping your mouth open wide as he fed his hard cock between your lips until you were full up with Eddie.  A shadow of his thoughts crossed behind his eyes and you gulped audibly, pressing your thighs together at the idea of him using you for his own end. Only, that wasn’t who Eddie Munson was, at heart.  There was no forcing, no taking, not without talking first.  And that alone was so very different from whatever his name was that you were already feeling more excited, more aroused than you could ever remember being before. Nodding at his quip, you stretched  your fingers toward the gathered elastic band of his jockey shorts, but he stopped you, “Not yet, ok, pretty girl?  Wanna see you first, alright?” “Oh, yea, ok.  Sure.” You stood up on shaking legs, never breaking the heated stare between you and Eddie.  Slowly you started to peel off the layers of clothing that you had wrapped around yourself before heading out into the snow.  Fumbling, you toed off one thick sock when Eddie’s low laugh interrupted your eager undressing, “Lemme help you.  You helped me, it’s only fair.” Motioning to his thigh, you brought your socked foot up, inhaling sharply when Eddie rolled the soggy wool down your toes before chucking it towards the door.  Those calloused fingers massaged up your calf, the muscles there tense from your excursion, and you groaned gratefully at the softening his touch brings.  Too soon, in your opinion, Eddie lowered your leg back to the floor, but it’s only because he was raising the bottom band of your hoodie over your head. Stumbling a bit, he caught you, now in a t-shirt and leggings, “Did you put on everything you own?” “It’s cold out!  And I was walking here to tell the guy I love “Merry Christmas”!”  It’s your best defense and the base honesty of it makes Eddie weak. “Fair enough, sweetheart, but I need you naked.  Like, now.”  His eyebrows are raised expectantly making you chortle as his overeager attitude. You got a little bit fresh though, wanting to tease him, to draw out the night, so you sass, “What if I’m your gift, huh Munson?  And you’re just rushing through the unwrapping part-” He doesn't let you finish.  Instead, Eddie scooped you up with his hands on your soft bottom, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck, “Oh, I know how to take my time, babe.  Especially when it matters.” “Fuck, Eddie.”  It’s a broken exhale, wanton and laced with a desperation that he had never heard from you before.  He’s an addict already. Buttons part easily under Eddie’s knowing fingertips.  Your flannel shirt and faded tee are thrown across the room joining the growing pile of your clothes.  After your ribbed tank top comes off, the last barrier to your bountiful breasts is the emerald green bra you put in, hopeful that Eddie would have a chance to see it before the night ends. Now here he is, an owlish look on his wonder filled face, “Wow.” Heat climbed through you at the raw realness on display in Eddie’s features.  That’s when you decided that you can’t wait any longer and took his wrists in your hands, placing them on your waist as you stepped into his arms, “Eddie, baby, please?  Please touch me.” He doesn’t respond with words.  Gripping you tight enough to bruise, your head is tipped back to make room for Eddie’s roving mouth as he scorches a path down your neck.  At the swell of your breasts he slowed down, savoring the flavor of your skin, teasing you with his tongue.  Licking over the lace of your bra, Eddie sucked on your hardened nipple through the fabric, the foreign sensation making you jump under his ministrations.  You tangled a fist in his hair, pulling against the loose curls, and he let you direct his mouth back to your own bee stung lips as you mewl, “Need you, Eddie.  Need you now.” “Fuck, baby.”  Walking you backwards, Eddie lowered you onto his bed, following you down to the mattress.  His hands cupped your cheeks, brushing your hair back so he could really see you, those broad thighs pressing your own open.  You could feel the delicious weight of him on top of you, his hard cock unavoidable, and you rolled your hips into Eddie’s just to hear him groan. In a rush now, Eddie ripped your pants off in a flash, taking your panties with them.  Kneeling between your spread legs, he laid his hands over his heart, “I really love-” you angled up onto your elbows, anticipating how he’ll finish his sentence, “-my Christmas gift.  Thank you so much for bringing it over, even if you had to walk a mile in the snow.” “You shit!”  Giggling at his theatrics, you grabbed for him, only satisfied when he’s draped over your prone figure. There’s a kiss then, and another, and another until they blend together in your mind.  Some are sweet and slow.  Some tender and testing.  Others are sloppy, teeth clicking, tongue sucking kisses. Hands are everywhere.  They glide along hairy thighs and smooth arms.  They paused to fondle, to flick, to squeeze.  They never stopped moving. Fingers find ticklish spots to linger on, drawing out laughter, high and sweet.  Fingers press hard into soft skin.  They dig in, they hold on. When Eddie’s bold enough, he touches you at the dark, damp cavern of your core.  The un-rushed attention is overwhelming and it doubles in intensity when his calloused middle finger finds a home surrounded by your satin walls.  Clutching at his arms, you wailed thinly, “More, Eddie, more, please.” A second finger breached your wet cleft, the stretch delicious and somehow delicate because Eddie’s listening to you, to your body, and he’s not rushing.  His gaze had not left yours, the show you’re putting on is just too good to miss and he has a front row seat.  Kissing over your tummy, moving lower, you bucked into his grip just as his plush pout pressed against your straining clitoris. Fisting his pillow with one hand, the other curled possessively around the back of his neck, holding him steady.  Holding him close.  Holding out for the inevitable peak of your pleasure, brought on by the unceasing attention of your lover. Panting, your thighs quaked, the ecstatic energy gathering in your body ready to explode.  It’s been so long since you had someone take care of you, worry about pleasing you, think about getting you off first, that when your orgasm hits it is leveling.  The air huffs out of you in short bursts as your body goes rigid, all of your limbs seem to lock up, and every molecule of your form is concentrated on the overriding bliss created by Eddie and his feelings for you. Maybe you blacked out, you don’t really know what else to call the far away floating sensation that accompanied your little death.  What you do know is that Eddie has you gathered in his arms, your head cradled over that spot- your spot on his chest, his heartbeat the first sound that breaks through the fog of your climax.  Rocking you back and forth, soft kisses pressing into the crown of your head, as Eddie cooed, “I got you, pretty girl.  It’s alright.  You’re ok, honey.” Shivering as you come down from your intense high, stray tears cascaded down your cheeks, but these are not born of sadness.  Experiencing euphoria like this was overwhelming and you gratefully sunk into Eddie’s warmth, hiccuping, “I’m- I’m ok, Eddie.  I’m- thank you.  Thank you so much.” “Thank me?  Sweetheart, I didn’t do-” Swiveling in his arms, you peered up at him through wet eyes, “But you did!  You do.  You always take such great care of me and tonight, all this, it’s no exception.”  And you kissed him with everything you had in your heart, saying ‘I love you’ with your body over and over again.  When you pulled back this time, a small hand on Eddie’s stubbled cheek, you shook your head, not believing that you were here, now, with this loving man, “I think I must be dreaming.” “Then, please, for the love of Ozzy, do not wake up.” An undignified snort of laughter snuck out of you and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to lay you back on the bed.  Floppy and boneless, you’re spread out and giggling, ready for whatever Eddie wanted to do.  You run your foot over his leg, landing on his hip before he wrapped a hand around your ankle, steadying his hold on you to ensure that you were open wide for him. You nibbled on your pinky finger, knowing what came next, but playing coy.  That sweetness, the innocent way you batted your eyelashes at him, it made Eddie throb.  Yearning to be inside of you, he smooched at the skin of your inner thigh, “God, you’re so fucking pretty.  Can I touch you, beautiful?  Can I make you feel good?” Why would you ever say no to that?  Letting your calves lock around his, you lifted your hips up so that you could hump against Eddie, “Please, Eddie, for fuck’s sake!” And then he was fisting himself, lining the hardest part of his body up with the softest part of your own, “Hey, hey, look at me.” Locked in on Eddie’s blown out stare, you licked over your bottom lip, which only made him groan.  Dropping his chin, he shook his head, “You- you can’t look at me like that, baby.  I’m going to cum before I ever get to feel you if you keep that up.” “But, I didn’t-” Running a hand through his hair so that it fell over his shoulder, he husked, “You can’t help it.  You’re just so damned adorable and-” the expansive head of his cock caught at the slick circle of your quim, “-And I fucking love you.” Inhaling sharply, your body arched off the bed and straight into Eddie’s chest at his first breaching thrust.  Hands tensing, your nails clawed at his forearms as he stilled, giving you time to adjust to his shattering length and stretching width.  Distracting you, Eddie’s mouth dotted kisses along the base of your throat and over your jaw, before huskily growling into your ear, “I’m gonna move now, ok?” Noiseless, you nodded as Eddie kept his word.  Withdrawing slowly, Eddie was exercising all the control he possessed to ensure that you got the best of him.  And even with his concentration focused on the long, smooth strokes of his thrusts, he still managed to touch you, kiss you, mumble out sounds like yes and fuck and your name. “Eddie, more, please?”  You hadn’t meant to whine but he felt so good that you wanted all you could get. It was as if you had cut him free by asking that question.  Eddie let his body reply, rolling his hips, no longer pulling free from your velvet vice.  Instead he surged forward, deeper and deeper with every press of his pelvis against your own.

Your sweaty skin had gone over goosebumps, a shivering, shining sensation spiraling from your core.  You found your voice but could only manage to whimper as Eddie let a free hand rake over your thigh before his fingers landed on your clit, rubbing in light circles.  The contact made your muscles clench and through gritted teeth, Eddie cursed, “Fucking hell, sweetheart!” His reaction made you giggle breathlessly, “I’m so close Eddie.  Are you?  Are you gonna cum?” “Yea.  Yea I am, honey.  Can you hold on?  Cum with me?” Hugging him, your back off the mattress, you peppered him with kisses, agreeing with a happy hum.  Eddie kept his rhythm, the even movement of his fingers, and when he felt his own eminent ending, took a beat to encourage you, “Sweetheart, please?  Let go for me, yea?  Wanna- shit- wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Language like that would have made you embarrassed before but coming from Eddie’s sweet, sweet mouth it set you aflame, “Eddie!  Yes!  Yes, baby!” Your ruinous release arrived with a shout of his name.  Going rigid under Eddie as he rocked into you, his palm pressed to the center of your chest, right over your heart, and then he shuddered above you, his forehead coming to rest against your own as you both fought to catch your breath. 

But then Eddie pushed away, abruptly, the overflowing spend of his ecstasy wetting your thighs.  It left a cold and empty gap between you when he turned his back to you, his shoulders hunched.  Sitting up, you moved to Eddie’s side, “Eddie?  Are you- are you ok?” There was no answer, so you crawled to his side, but he avoided looking at you, so you draped a hand on his meaty quad, squeezing slightly, as you asked, “Babe, what’s going on?” Kneeling on the bed in front of the man who just gave you two delicious orgasms, you were utterly shocked at the sight that met you; Eddie, skin shiny from sweat, sitting cross legged, was biting into his knuckle.  It was the reason which broke you. He was crying.  Tough, beautiful, Eddie Munson was crying.  Sobbing really, and to stifle the sound, his teeth were gouging into the flesh of his finger.  Once more he tried to avoid you, but you were quick to pull his arm down, “Eddie, what happened?” “I-” his voice was thick, embarrassed and full of emotion, “-I’ve never- What we just did, I-”  When you realized that he couldn’t get the words out, you took his hands in yours, kissing over the pulse point of each wrist, “Imma need you to take a deep breath, babe.  There ya go!”  And you praised him when he inhaled brokenly. Puffing out his cheeks on the exhale, he allowed your clever fingers to wipe away his tears, apologizing, “I’m so sorry.  So sorry, sweetheart.” “For what?  Where’s this coming from?” “For being a big baby, now, after we just-” damp and wet cheeked, his pretty brown eyes found yours in the dim, “-after we made love.”

“Oh, Eddie.”  Your hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into the warmth he found there, sighing. For the first time in your relationship, you were able to offer Eddie the sort of comfort and care that he had shown you so many times.  Wasting no time, you straddled his lap, wrapping him in a hug.  He hooked his chin over your shoulder, “I just- I’ve never had anyone love me.  Not like this and-” You silenced him with your lips, your tongue prying into his mouth, drinking the sadness from the source.  All of your want, all of your love, all of it went into the kiss you laid on Eddie.  When you leaned back far enough to stare at your man, you were met with his earnest expression, still raw and real.  

Your forehead nudged into his, a half-smile playing on your lips, “Hey.” “Hey.”  Still sounding sad, Eddie let a chuckle burst out of him, but you found it endearing, encouraging. Eddie let his hands find a place on the thick meat of your tush, keeping you close as you nuzzled into his neck, “I love you, Eddie.  All of you.  And for so many reasons.” “Yea?”  He sounded like he still couldn’t believe it.  That this was all too good to be true. Pulling back on his hair, he hissed but didn’t try to stop you.  “Yea, Eddie.  Yea, I do.  I fucking love you.” Then he was laughing.  A joyful, open, happy sound that brightened the room and made you smile wide.  Eddie lightly slapped your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he licked open mouth kisses along the top of your chest, leaving red marks along the way.  Laughing too, you basked in the bubble of love that the two of you were creating. Dragging you to his side, your head rested against his chest, over your special spot.  His heart was thumping, steady and strong, already lulling you to sleep, when you tipped your head up, “Merry Christmas, Eddie.” “Uh, Merry Christmas.” And what happened next, well in Hawkins, they say, that Eddie Munson’s small heart grew three sizes that day. On Christmas morning, Eddie cooked you breakfast, and made sure there was plenty of fresh coffee for Uncle Wayne to come home to.  After the dishes were washed, you pulled his gift out of your snow stained bag, “This is for you.” “Aw, baby!  You didn’t have to do this.” Shifting your weight, you nervously danced, “I know!  But, well… OPEN IT!” The paper tore away quickly, revealing a framed photo of the two of you sitting on lounge chairs at Steve’s house, happiness visible on both of your faces.  When he looked at the picture it was painfully obvious; you were in love even then.  It was clear from the way you leaned into each other, your head resting right over his heart, exactly where it belonged. All you needed to make that love a reality was a Christmas miracle, but those only come around once a year. A lump rose in Eddie’s throat.  Maybe there was something to this holiday after all.  Something about love and caring and showing people how much they meant to you.  Maybe it wasn’t about the cost of gifts or the wrapping paper; the ornaments or the parties. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad.  Not if it brought you two together, once and for all. Shit.  Steve had been right.  Eddie was going to have to thank his friend for the motivational speech. When he saw your expectant look, Eddie cleared his throat, declaring, “I love it.  Thank you, so so much.” Extending his hand, you took it, letting him settle you in his lap, humming, “And I love you, so so much.” When Wayne came home, you were curled in Eddie’s lap, his arm holding you close.  Both of you were sleeping peacefully, the tv playing a repeat of the holiday parade.  He shook his head, happy in his heart. Merry Christmas, indeed. —------FIN—-----

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[slavicafire]

What's the proper mood for absinthe then, in your opinion! I've never had the courage to try it before - any advice you could spare?

the precipice of the most bittersweet melancholy - a longing, a nostalgia, a volatile mood when you are torn between reading old novels and writing the worst poetry, between dancing and weeping and kissing someone you absolutely ought not to be kissing that night - but enough on the sweet side of it so that you do not get carried away by the power and bitterness of the drink.

and it requires company! company just as wild and assured in their feelings, and as excited to sing loudly one moment and wail even louder the next.

as for more practical tips: dillute with ice cold water but never ice itself, never skip the sugar, and pair with any citrus you favour for an added flavour layer.

[fairesky]

❛  do you ever have dreams that feel so real they're almost like nightmares?  ❜

sight    lingered    'pon    dancing    flame    before    the    duo,    cackling    ​​​​​​​disrupts    ​​​​​​​the    once    ​​​​​​​quiet    ​​​​​​​atmosphere;    sparks    flew    to   ​​​​​​​ 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓮    ---    ​​​​​​​a yearning to ignite    ​​​​​​​another    replica    ​​​​​​​but    ​​​​​​​𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕪    failing.    with    the    evening    fading    to    darkness,    the    colors    of    the    ​​​​​​​world    ​​​​​​​grew    darker    and    the    ​​​​​​​ｆｒｉｅｎｄｌｙ    ​​​​​​​wildlife    turned    ​​​​​​​ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ.    ​​​​​​​a blur between dreams and a nightmare,   ​​​​​​​ ones    which    continuously   ​​​​​​​𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝    ​​​​​​​FIRST CLASS SOLDIER's   mind.    it    was    a    heavy    sigh    through    nostrils,    brows    knitted    to   [    concentrate    ]   on   @liightbringr 's    query.    dreams    feeling    like    nightmares,    if    one    would    have    to   ​​​​​​​ 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗳𝘆    ​​​​​​​the    ​​​​​​​𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴    ​​​​​​​that    he    had    gone    through,    it    was    precisely    ​​​​​​​that.    one that never concluded.

"   i'd    be    lying    saying    I    didn't ,   "    melancholy    vocals    spoke    in    a    sincere    lower    pitch.    the    things    he   𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭   ​​​​​​​ were    just   ​​​​​​​ bad dreams turned into a harsh reality    ​​​​​​​as    a    series    of    𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤   unfolded.    the    truth    about    Shinra    added    to    the   ｏｖｅｒｗｈｅｌｍｉｎｇ    confusion    ​​​​​​​that    consumed    Zack.    a    nightmare,    one    he    ᴅᴇꜱᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇʟʏ    wished    he    could    wake    up    from   ​​​​​​​ and    ​​​​​​​convince   himself    it    was    all    just    a    bad    dream.    yet,    in    reality,   ​​​​​​​ the    ​​​​​​​[ situation was even more grim ].    ​​​​​​​back    straightened    switch    from    a    mere   ​​​​​​​squat    ​​​​​​​to   ​​​​​​​ standing,    ​​​​​​​arms    crossed    against    his    chest;    sight    never    once   ​​​​​​​ 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠    ​​​​​​​the    burning    flames.

      🐝  *  ―  𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ

"    but    they're    just    nightmares,    riiight?    ​​​​​​​"    ​​​​​​​a    mask    to    veil    over    the    truth    he    refused    ​​​​​​​to    ​​​​​​​witness    ​​​​​​​again,   ​​​​​​​ yet how long will that veil last?    ​​​​​​​his    sight    caught    a    ｇｌｉｍ ｍｅｒ   of    hope,    causing    the    once    ​​​​​​​𝓷𝓪𝓲𝓿𝓮    ​​​​​​​feeling    he    had    once    worn    to    gradually    peel    off,    layer    by    layer.    the    nostalgia   hit    him    as    he    realized    how    ​​​​​​​𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲    ​​​​​​​he    had    wished    things    to    stay    the    same,    unaware    of    ​​​​​​​the    ​​​​​​​𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨   ​​​​​​​ 𝘶𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭.    ​​​​​​​"    it's    not    like    they're    gonna    manifest    and    scare    you.    sometimes    the    nightmares    have    their    own    meaning    to    them.    ooooor,    they    can    mean   ​​​​​​​ nothing.    ​​​​​​​"    a shrug    of    his    shoulder,    as    he    gazed    towards    eva.

solemn    frontal    morph    gleefully    ​​​​​​​switching    the   ​​​​​​​ 𝓪𝓽𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮    ​​​​​​​between    man    and    woman.    even    ​​​​​​​𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒹𝓈𝓉    ​​​​​​​the    challenges    and    nightmares,    Zack    found   solace   in    the    presence    of    someone    who    would    always    be    there    ​​​​​​​to    ​​​​​​​offer comfort and listen.    ​​​​​​​"    but    it's    those    dreams    or    nightmares    that    help    us    grow    stronger    and    deal    with    things    head-on.    not    to    mention    I    would    have    to    remind    myself    that    nightmares    or    dreams    differ    in    reality.    alsoooo,    if    you    ever    have    nightmares    let    me    handle    them.    I'm    skilled    in    fighting    off    unwanted    ​​​​​​​dreams.    "

#liightbringr #╰ ––––––– ✧ ₀₁₂ ᜵ ​​​🇮​​🇳​​🇧​​🇴​​🇽​​ ¸ fanclub messages. #zack be like: i'll fight your dreams for you

[bleuhisteria]

Phantom Melody Chapter 2

Entering the cozy neighborhood bakery, the delightful aroma of freshly baked bread enveloped (Y/N) in a warm embrace. The rich scent of butter and yeast mingled with the sweetness of sugary pastries, creating an irresistible symphony for the senses. The sound of soft chatter and the clinking of utensils filled the air, accompanied by the familiar melodies of an old but popular song playing softly in the background.

Behind the polished glass counter stood Emily, the skilled baker and (Y/N)'s cousin. As soon as she caught sight of (Y/N), her face lit up with recognition and genuine affection.

"(Y/N)! Oh, it's so good to see you!" Emily exclaimed, her voice laced with warmth. "Is it your dad's birthday today?"

(Y/N) grinned and nodded. "Hey, Emily! Long time no see. And yes, it's Dad's birthday. I thought I'd surprise him with his favorite strawberry cake."

Emily's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Ah, the legendary strawberry cake! Let me get it ready for you."

As Emily skillfully prepared the cake, the melodious tunes of a popular song by Rosie LoveLock filled the bakery. The rhythmic beat and heartfelt lyrics added to the ambiance, evoking a sense of nostalgia and familiarity.

While they chatted, Emily couldn't contain her curiosity about (Y/N)'s encounter with Hawks earlier outside. Her questions came pouring out, each one filled with enthusiasm and a hint of playfulness.

(Y/N) chuckled, amused by her cousin's eagerness. "Whoa, slow down, Em! It was just a ride after my bus got attacked by a villain. Nothing too dramatic."

Emily's eyes widened with excitement. "But Hawks! You were practically hugging him! Tell me everything. What did he smell like? How did he act?"

(Y/N) playfully pushed Emily's face away, feigning annoyance. "Alright, calm down, detective. It was nothing like that. Just a brief encounter. No details to share."

Emily pouted but couldn't hide her amusement. "You're no fun, (Y/N). Anyway, back to the cake. Why strawberry? You hate strawberries, remember?"

(Y/N) smirked mischievously, enjoying Emily's disapproval. "Oh, you know me too well. But sometimes, we do things for the people we care about, even if we don't personally enjoy it."

Emily shook her head, feigning disapproval. "You're too soft-hearted for your own good."

Grinning, (Y/N) playfully patted Emily's shoulder. "Well, that's what you love about me, right?"

Emily rolled her eyes, but a playful smile tugged at her lips. "Fine, fine. Just pay for the cake and get out of here."

(Y/N) nodded, reaching into her pocket to retrieve her wallet. She paid for the strawberry cake and thanked Emily for her help.

As she turned to leave, Emily couldn't resist one last comment. "You better bring back some leftovers for me, or I won't forgive you!"

She laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "Of course, of course. I'll save you a slice. See you later, Em."

Leaving the warm embrace of the bakery, (Y/N) cradled the box of strawberry cake, relishing in the sweet anticipation of the moment. 

It took her a while to reach the military graveyard where her father was buried. The rural area was peaceful and quiet, with few visitors. As she arrived, she breathed in the fresh air and made her way to her father's grave, humming a tune she had never finished composing.

The scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers permeated the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of damp soil. The silence of the rural area was broken only by the soft chirping of birds perched on nearby branches. The wind carried a cool breeze, caressing (Y/N)'s cheeks as she walked.

Upon reaching the graveyard, (Y/N) was greeted by a serene stillness. The rows of gravestones stood tall and proud, each bearing the weight of countless memories (Y/N) walked through the rows of gravestones, taking in the names and dates etched into the weathered stones. The hushed whispers of fallen leaves under her feet created a gentle symphony, adding a touch of melancholy to the atmosphere. A soft ray of sunlight pierced through the canopy of trees, casting a warm glow on the solemn scene.

Finding her father's resting place, (Y/N) carefully knelt down, setting the box of strawberry cake on the ground beside her. She traced her fingers along the cold surface of the gravestone, feeling the engraved letters beneath her touch. It was a bittersweet reminder of the life he had lived and the memories they had shared.

As she prepared a small picnic area around her father's shrine, the scent of the freshly opened strawberry cake mingled with the earthy aroma of the graveyard. The soft crinkle of the picnic blanket being unfolded added a comforting rhythm to the quiet surroundings.

With the cake placed near her father's gravestone, (Y/N) knelt in front of it, clasping her hands together in prayer. The gentle rustle of leaves in the wind provided a backdrop to her whispered words, spoken from the depths of her heart.

After the prayer, she extended her hand, placing it gently on the gravestone. "Father, (F/N) Lockhart, I summon you," she whispered, her voice carrying a mixture of hope and longing. A faint pink glow enveloped her hand, accompanied by a soft, ethereal hum that resonated through the air. Her heart raced with anticipation, her senses heightened in the presence of something beyond the physical realm.

But as quickly as the light appeared, it dissipated, "No!" she shouted in a mix of panic and desperation as the smoke and light faded away. "Damnit," she cursed, frustration evident in her voice. She waved her burning hand in disappointment. "Come on, Dad. I even brought chocolate-covered hazelnuts," she sighed, feeling let down. The connection she had yearned for remained elusive, like a whisper on the wind.

Sitting there for a moment, she allowed herself to process the disappointment. She knew deep down that summoning her father's spirit wasn't impossible, but he doesn't seem want to respond to her for some reason, the longing for a connection sometimes got the best of her. With a heavy heart, she decided to honor her father's memory in her own way. Taking a slice of strawberry cake and a handful of hazelnuts, she placed them on a small plate near the gravestone.

"I miss you, Dad," she whispered, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I'll always cherish the memories we had together." She stayed there for a while, reminiscing about the times they spent together, finding solace in the quiet surroundings.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the graveyard, she finally stood up, wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye. With a bittersweet smile, she said her final goodbyes, knowing that her father's spirit would live on in her heart.

"Rosalie." An all too familiar voice called out from behind her.

Even if she didn't turn around, she knew in her heart who it was. (Y/N) stood up slowly, her eyes meeting her mother's cold gaze. "Mother," she greeted, her voice filled with a mix of weariness and guardedness. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Can't a mother visit her late husband's grave on his birthday?" Her mother raised a condescending brow, a hand resting on her hip.

(Y/N) scoffed, unable to hide her annoyance. "As if you cared," she retorted. "What are you really here for?" Her glare intensified.

The agent cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "Four years, Rosalie. Do you realize how long that is?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of authority and concern. "You've been on a break for four years. It's time that I bring you back."

"As if!" (Y/N) shot back, her voice filled with defiance. "I made the choice to change my life. You're not a part of it anymore!" Her frustration and anger seeped through her words.

"You're coming with me, Rosalie." Her mother's tone became resolute as she reached out to grab (Y/N)'s arm.

(Y/N) swiftly pulled her arm away, taking a step back. "No. You can't make me. My name is (Y/N), not Rosalie!" she shouted, her voice trembling with a mix of rebellion and hurt.

Her mother moved closer, not noticing the carefully laid-out cake on the ground, and accidentally stepped on it, crushing it beneath her shoe. An audible disgusted reaction escaped her lips as she kicked the remnants of the cake off her shoe, unknowingly dirtying the gravestone.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in disbelief and anger as she witnessed this act. Rage surged within her, and she couldn't contain her scream any longer. "Why do you have to ruin such an important day? Wasn't it enough that you ruined my life and profited from it? Now you're defiling Dad's grave too?"

"Do not raise your voice at me, Rosalie. I am your mother," her mother scolded, wagging her finger.

The words cut deep, pushing (Y/N) over the edge. The weight of her mother's constant disapproval and control became too much to bear. With a mix of frustration, sadness, and anger, she could no longer suppress her emotions. And in a moment of vulnerability, her mother's hand swung, delivering a resounding slap across (Y/N)'s cheek.

The force of the slap stunned (Y/N) for a moment. Pain radiated through her face, but it was the deep sense of betrayal that cut deepest. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at her mother, her hand instinctively reaching to touch her stinging cheek.

"Why?" (Y/N) whispered, her voice trembling with hurt. "Why can't you understand? I'm trying to live my own life, make my own choices." The tears streamed down her face, mixing with the pain and confusion that consumed her.

Her mother's expression softened momentarily, a flicker of remorse crossing her face. But just as quickly, it hardened again. "You need guidance, Rosalie. I'm only doing what's best for you," she insisted, her tone firm.

(Y/N) shook her head, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "No, Mother. This isn't guidance; it's control. And I won't let you control me anymore."

Silence hung in the air, heavy with unresolved emotions. (Y/N) took a step back, distancing herself from her mother's presence. She turned away, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. Her gaze shifted back to her father's gravestone, now marred with dirt from the ruined cake. With a deep breath, she mustered the strength to speak.

"I came here to honor Dad, to remember him and the love we shared," (Y/N) said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "But you've tarnished this moment, just like you've tarnished so much of my life."

Her mother's face twisted with a mix of defensiveness and frustration. "You don't understand, Rosalie. I'm doing what I think is right for you, for our family's legacy," she argued, her voice tinged with desperation.

(Y/N) shook her head, her eyes filled with a newfound resolve. "Your version of 'right' is suffocating, Mother. It's stifling my dreams, my identity, and everything I've fought so hard to become."

The weight of her mother's expectations and manipulations had weighed her down for far too long. But in that moment, as painful as it was, (Y/N) found the strength to break free.

"I won't let you define me anymore," she declared, her voice firm and unwavering. "I may not have all the answers, and I may stumble along the way, but I'll navigate my own path. And I refuse to let your shadow cast over me any longer."

Tears continued to stream down (Y/N)'s face, a mix of grief for the shattered connection with her mother and a newfound determination to embrace her own journey. She took one last look at the damaged cake and the gravestone, silently saying her final goodbye to her father.

Turning away from her mother, (Y/N) walked away, carrying the weight of her emotions and the strength of her independence. As if the moment of the day she had left the music industry replayed in her head, the cold brewing storm up ahead, and the rain where she first felt the taste of freedom.

 (Y/N)'s mother remained in the graveyard biting her thumb, now anxious that the one who had brought her to where she was now, would never return to her grasp.

__

Somehow, (Y/N) made her way back into the city by nightfall, but she just wasn't ready to go home, no, not yet. Her emotions were still too raw, too overwhelming.

Seeking solace, she found herself in a nearby park, a sanctuary of tranquility. As she sat on a bench, the silence around her enveloped the air, allowing her tears to flow freely. Each sob escaped her lips, and she diligently wiped away the glistening droplets that fell.

Unexpectedly, a voice cut through the stillness, drawing her attention. "Looks like you've had a shitty day," the man remarked, his tone laced with a hint of cynicism. He took a seat beside her, his disheveled black spiky hair and burnt purple skin reflecting the moonlight.

(Y/N) glanced at the man, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "You're that guy from the convenience store," she mumbled, her voice trembling.

With a nod, he acknowledged her remark. His presence, despite his rough exterior, held an inexplicable allure, a quiet understanding that intrigued her.

"Tell me about it," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I went to my father's grave, just wanting to revisit some memories, but instead, I found myself in a confrontation with my mother. Every step I take to heal seems to plunge me deeper into this abyss of despair."

A faint smirk played on his lips as he listened, a semblance of sympathy flickering in his aquamarine eyes. "Family, huh? They can be the ones who hurt us the most. Trust me, I understand."

(Y/N) regarded him, captivated by the glimpses of pain that shimmered beneath his hardened exterior. A sense of connection, forged in their shared darkness, pulsed between them.

"I miss him so much," she whispered, her voice filled with longing. "Sometimes, I wish I could summon him back, if only for a moment, to find the closure I never had."

The man's gaze softened slightly, a mix of sympathy and resignation. "I get it. I used to have dreams of a different life too. But sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we can't change the past." 

(Y/N) sighed, her anger and sadness mixing together. "I just wanted one day where everything felt right, where I could find some peace. But it seems like that's too much to ask."

He leaned back, his posture exuding a sense of weariness. "Life's a bitch, isn't it? It has a way of tearing you apart, even when you're already broken." The park around them seemed to reflect their shared desolation. 

The night swallowed the sounds of the city, leaving only a somber silence between them

"But you know what?" He continued, a hint of defiance in his voice. "We can't let it beat us down completely. We have to keep pushing forward, even when it feels pointless."

(Y/N) looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. There was a hidden resilience in the man's words, a willingness to fight against the darkness."I guess you're right," she conceded, a small smile gracing her lips. "We can't let our past define us. We have to find our own way, even if it means going against everything we've known."

He nodded, his gaze meeting hers with a newfound intensity. "That's the spirit. We're not victims of our circumstances; we're survivors. And sometimes, surviving is the biggest middle finger we can give to the world."

This statement incited a laugh within (Y/N), "Thanks...you saved my night." she chuckled, giving the mysterious man a smile.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't thank me just yet, you never know, I could be a serial killer," he said, staring at her with his cold yet comforting eyes.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh great, just what I need, a killer to make my night even better," she replied sarcastically.

He laughed, a low and husky sound. "Don't worry, I don't kill on first dates," he teased, before getting up and taking out his cellphone from his pocket. "I'm off." he bid farewell, his tone now serious as he gaged in conversation with someone else over the phone, walking off with one hand in his pocket.

(Y/N) watched him go, a mix of gratitude and curiosity lingering in her thoughts. Who was this enigmatic man, with his cynical wit and hidden depths? She couldn't deny that their brief encounter had brought a spark of light into her night.

Chapter 2 End.

#bnha #mha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #mha hawks #boku no hero academia hawks #takami keigo #keigo takami #hawks bnha #hawks x you #my hero academia hawks #dabi angst #shigaraki tomura #todoroki touya #endeavor #touya todoroki #todoroki family #dabi x reader #dabi

[soft-persephone]

Captured by the Storm

Doug Renetti x Black!Female OC x Tina Lewis

Word Count: 1k

Warnings/Mini Summery: Melancholy, soft angst. Loss. Sad but not too sad. Funeral. Mourning. Grief. Light comfort. Tiny bit of longing.

Angel shifted on top of  the quilt that stayed with her through her youngest years of childhood. The heavily floral pattern worn with age brought back memories as stuffy as the room she was in. The good and the bad.  .  . . her mother. She could smell them all on the quilt, in this room, in the air, humid as it was.

The humidity captured her, holding her hostage to the little girl she used to be. To the time she spent in this town. It tortured her, leaving behind its evidence with a thin but growing sheen of sweat on her skin. The cup of ice water on her old nightstand was melting away into condensation within minutes. No matter how much she drank of the warm water, her tongue stayed thick and heavy in her mouth.

Her only comfort was the sound of the rain. The smell of it. 

It enraptured her in the  swaddling nostalgia that was home. Reminding her of the good, but left her equally as forlorn. Her comfort soon became another enemy. Torturing her along with the  humidity. Helping it rise higher and higher into the night. 

The moon itself was not in the sky, keeping itself scarce, leaving her in the dark with her capturers.

Everyone else was asleep. 

She would be too if it wasn’t the only time she could talk to Doug and Tina without being disturbed. 

She turned her head to face the clock. It was barely midknight. 

Tina said they would be working late tonight. They might be home around 20 past midnight or something like that. She couldn’t really remember. She tuned out after Tina said midknight. 

It was too long.

It was too long to go without talking to Tina or Doug. 

She was used to not being around them when they were all in the same city, but now, she was across the entire country without them. Her time zone was  an even two hours ahead. She was used to waiting hours upon hours until she saw them again, but now being so far away. .. made it completely unbearable. 

She never would have said it back in California, but she hated the high stakes reward nature of their job. 

Everything was a gamble with few guarantees. That meant an irregular unpredictable work schedule. She could go from seeing them everyday to not at all in such a short span of time. The rollercoaster of time they had to spend together was a nightmare for her clingy at heart nature. 

She was comfortable laughing it off with a joke about her mom passing away when she was young, but they didn't find it as funny as she did. 

She couldn't pretend it didn't bother her anymore. 

Licking her lips, she picked up the phone and dialed their number.

“Angel?” Doug's voice was warm and thick, adding to the unbearable humidity. Her skin felt stickier than it already was a moment ago, “Why are you still up? Are you okay? Did you want to talk about your aunt?”

“N- no. . .” That's why she was here wasn’t it? Her Mom’s sister had passed. The last of her grandmother’s children. They were all together now. That gave her some comfort. “I. . .I just miss you and Tina so much.”

“What about your family? It's been a while since they've seen you! All the way from California!”

“Yeah.” she replied weakly, not really sure what else to say. 

“That has to be exciting!” 

His voice washed over her in waves. Not loud, not a shout, he was mellow and refreshing. She  talked just enough. Saying the minimum polite requirement of words to carry a conversion, so she’d have the courtesy of just laying in the dark, listening to him. 

“Wh– What– what did you wear today?” she croaked out. 

He paused, but she could hear his smile. The sound of it brightened the room around her. It was her saving grace away from her captures in the night.

“The two piece blush pink suit.” He sounded a little deadpan but still utterly amused. “Sorry I didn't have time to find something sexier before you called.” he laughed, making the room grow that much brighter, making her feel less alone, “I thought I had more time.”

She laughed with him.

The heat and the memories fading away into the background. . .into a different reality.

“What about Tina? Angel smiled, pretty dumbly too if anyone made her admit it. The anticipation left her senses fumbling into stupidity. 

“Uhm,” his falter gave her pause, “A red dress. I think it's new?’

The darkness of the room was back, and she snapped back into reality. 

She was still far away.

Angel’s tongue darted along her lips and her eyes frantically searched in the dark. She already knew every little object in the room, but she needed to look at them all again. 

Words came tumbling out of her mouth, asking, begging, and pleading for the details, but her tongue felt thick and unfamiliar. It was hot and sticky in her mouth as her skin was from the humidity and sweat. 

“Woah woah, slow down.” Doug chuckled. “You're talking too fast and your accent sounds like it's gotten thicker since you’ve been home. I can't understand you.”

“Can you put Tina on?” 

Angel grabbed the glass for another sip of warm water before laying back down.

“Hey,” Tina said softly. Her voice was sultry and seductive. It was soothing. . . warm, “it's funny how lonely it feels over here when you're all the way over there.” She paused, “It's crazy to think how one person makes such a big  difference in our lives.”

Angel’s body was overwhelmed with heat. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything sentimental or sweet. It was breaking her, and it would only get worse when the sun came up. 

“Why. . .” Angel inhaled sharply, “did you wear it today? You know I'm not there?” 

Tina didn’t say anything and she started to feel a little agitated. 

“You know I wanted to see you in it first.”

"Maybe I wanted to hear you get upset,” Tina teased.

Angel laughed. Despite the hot humid room, it was cold, rueful, and dry. 

“Fine!” she managed to spit out, “Just wait till I get home! I’m not bringing you a surprise gift either.”

“Then I'd say. . .it was worth it.’

Angel huffed.

“I don't wanna hear you complain when Doug gets the biggest, most awesome gift.”

#minx #minx starz #minx hbo #doug renetti #tina lewis #jake johnson #idara victor #doug renetti x tina lewis x oc #doug renetti x tina lewis #jake johnson x reader #jake johnson x black!reader #Black!reader

[lesbiancolumbo]

orson thee welles

oh dear david has quite a bit to say on the birthday boy, so here's a snippet:

No one can now deny Herman Mankiewicz credit for the germ, shape, and pointed language of the screenplay, but no one who has seen the film as often as it deserves to be seen would dream that Welles is not its only begetter. The Citizen Kane Book may persuade us to reassess Mankiewicz, but he never becomes more than a clever, aphoristic, self-loathing pen-pusher. His plan for Kane was ingenious, malicious, and provocative. All of those qualities Welles endorsed, and shared. But he added his own nobility, which is none the less for centering on himself. Through observing his own melancholy passage as falling star, Welles made a universal portrait of failure, decline, chimes at midnight, snuffed-out pipe dream, and of the foolish play-acting we devise to conceal those brutal truths. Kane is a lasting achievement because of Welles’s capacity for folie de grandeur, and that may be seen in his theatricality, his storytelling, and his visual imagination, as much as in his dramatization of himself.

Kane is not simply a matter of a novice director’s immediate creation of a visual style that is simultaneously baroque and precise, overwhelmingly emotional, and unerringly founded in reality. Deep-focus photography, ceilinged sets, and exaggerated low-key lighting—such tangible effects were not born with Kane. Anyone can see how much Welles’s eye had learned from German expressionism and its influence on stage production in the 1930s. In France and America, elaborate, lifelike sets and comprehensive photography had been played with for ten years. Look at The Long Voyage Home and you can see Gregg Toland in possession of all the photographic measures of Kane; you may see, too, how little he or Ford knew what to do with them. The Ford film is senselessly pretty. The deep-focus, chiaroscuro image works in Kane (“works” is a tame word) because it dramatizes the inside of Kane’s head, curving at the edges or fading into darkness with the diffuseness of egotism.

Nor is Kane just the visible energy of Welles badgering away from center-screen at his fellow-actors, most of whom were colleagues of some years, already bewildered by their own confused feelings of love and resentment for the boy genius. It is also the fact that, before or since, no one in Hollywood has carved out such freedom for himself, and then used it to initiate a chorus of damnation, mistrust, and rumor that would reliably hinder him from a lasting commercial career. As if Welles would ever knuckle under to stability! He handled RKO like a conjuror. Without their being able to prevent it, he charmed, bullied, and provoked Mankiewicz, Houseman, Toland, and Bernard Herrmann into their best work for the screen. That is a sort of authorship that consists of dictating the terms in which collaborators deal with him. It was only when he had brought Hollywood to its knees, that Welles—always a chronic victim of boredom, and an actor unconvinced by his own masquerade—spurned carte blanche so that he should himself be made a Falstaffian outcast.

Kane is less about William Randolph Hearst—a humorless, anxious man—than a portrait and prediction of Welles himself. Given his greatest opportunity, Mankiewicz could only invent a story that was increasingly colored by his mixed feelings about Welles and that, he knew, would be brought to life by Welles the overpowering actor, who could not resist the chance to dress up as the old man he might one day become, and who relished the young showoff Kane just as he loved to hector and amaze the Mercury Theater. As if Welles knew that Kane would hang over his own future, regularly being used to denigrate his later works, the film is shot through with his vast, melancholy nostalgia for self-destructive talent. Kane goes out of his way to destroy and isolate himself by calling Geddes’s bluff. In the same way, Welles repaid astonishing freedom by gratuitously insulting William Randolph Hearst. And in Confidential Report, the scorpion still stings the frog, no matter that it will destroy them both, because it is his character. Kane is Welles, just as every apparent point of view in the film is warmed by Kane’s own memories, as if the entire film were his dream in the instant before death.

#asks #thomson meme

[daggerzine]

John Canning Yates- The Quiet Portraits (Violette Records)

It’s been twenty years since John released The First Album by Ella Guru, a critically acclaimed album that I somehow missed. The Quiet Portraits is an 11-track album that was written and recorded by Yates. He plays piano, keys/synths, clarinet, guitar, mandolin, bass, a kid’s drum kit(!), and of course, all of the vocals. The added touches of BJ Cole and Scott Poley on pedal steel guitar, and reuniting with Andy Frizell on bass and flute make this a beautiful record. Jason Mitchell (PJ Harvey, Aldous Harding) mastered this album. “The Way I Remember It” leads off the album with soft, gentle keyboards and steel guitar with his hushed vocals filled with lyrics of nostalgia. It’s a perfect introduction to lay the ground for the rest of the album. “I remember you. You were lost and I was too. In a park, in the rain. I remember saying, Will you always feel as you do? Is this a temporary impression of you? Or are you the same?” For some reason, it could be a long-lost Nick Drake tune, but the instrumentation takes it deeper. Next up, “In The Stillness of The Night,” is another melancholy song, but a little faster-paced. More contemplative lyrics here with gorgeous arrangements bring Burt Bacharach to mind. “In the darkness of night, you can always count on some. In the hole that I was, I could only count on one. And when you hold onto what you believe in; Then you’ll know it’s true. In the stillness of the night, I am still in love with you.“ Listen here: https://ditto.fm/in-the-stillness-of-the-night Track 3, “Healing,” is a slower tune reminiscent of something Brian Wilson could have penned. “Don’t lose hope. Don’t lose feeling. Hope. Hope is when the flowers will bloom. When it’s always blue for you. Healing.” The song's slow, but driving rhythm gives it a tropical feel. Next is “Until You Find Me (Song for Margaret Hardman).” Is Margaret finally getting her due as the wife of the famous Liverpool photographer Edward Hardman? Seems like Edward’s love song to his wife. “I loved you; you loved me. And we breezed through life. We were as thick as thieves. With an inspired youth. And then inspired by you, I will leave these lasting images…For what purpose, I don’t know. I’m mainly missing how we laughed, surrounded by our photographs. And I will not change a single room. I’ll sit and play our favourite tunes. Until you find me.” A song filled with beautiful piano, swirling steel guitar, and subtle clarinet along with Edward’s(?) spoken word. Such a sad love song that brings this listener to tears.

Track 5 is “October Song.” The shortest track on the album almost finishes before it gets started. It’s a slow-moving waltz dealing with the struggles of love. “If this is war, then I’ve won. Or if this is a drug, then I want some.” John’s clarinet adds a beautiful touch here. Next, “It Could Be So Good,” is an atmospheric, gentle mix of gorgeous instrumentation that really blends well with the heartfelt lyrics. “This is for the dreamers, the song for every day. And this is for, This is for ones that fall away. Hope was all in place. No rules, no time to waste. It could be so good.” With “Under Cobalt Skies,” Andy Frizell’s flute really takes off here. Here’s an even slower song that again captures the reflective lyrics. “This cobalt blue night, where sky blends with sea. Brings heaven to earth. Tell that inky black breeze...I want a revelation. Know my place in time. My role on the inside, where I’m edges and lines. Life goes on apace. Time not on side. We’re fragile, we're fading, under cobalt skies.” Next up is “Life In A Different Time,” which begins with an eerie piano sound, but then turns into another beautiful melody. The song builds and builds with instrumentation, but eventually, it reverts back to its eerie beginning. “And when something’s wrong; But time, it still moves along, I try. But it makes no difference when I try. It's still life in a different time.“ It’s a song destined to be in a movie soundtrack in the future. With “Faraway Blues,” John switches to a more upbeat melody. I mean the rhythm section is further up on this one and a soaring bridge that is amazing. One of my favorites on the album. “We wore the warmest clothes. Unventured roads down we would go. What gives? Well, no one knows. But we took the path least travelled on. And on the way we came to a garden, like Gethsemane. You couldn't be betrayed. I could make you long for the future days.” Track 10, “Riches,” begins with a rising steel guitar over a slow beat. But it’s the way the vocals are mixed in that eventually speeds up the melody. “And in the unknown road ahead of us, we could find someone who’d marry us. It’s in the way we talk when I’m lying next to you and I’m just talking to you about it all. Have you found your riches, too?” The closing track, “Dreams Forgotten,” ends the album with another beautiful gem. It’s a beautiful mix of piano and synths paired with wonderful lyrics. “Birds have a way with songs to say the same things over and over. Like I have a way to turn the most potential day, into a wasteful day, over and over. I was bothered by my dreams forgotten; But now, I’m not.” After the song ends, one can only sigh knowing that the album is over. The Quiet Portraits is an album filled with soft, gentle sounds that truly take the listener to another place. It’s an album to enjoy in the morning, on a rainy day, late at night, or on a walk in the woods(see photo). In John’s own words, "It's a testament to the power of music, the beauty of solitude, and the therapeutic nature of songwriting." Here’s hoping it won’t take another twenty years for Yates to share more of his amazing music. I don’t think I can wait that long. ERIC EGGLESON

https://www.violetterecords.com/john-canning-yates

https://www.violetterecords.com/store/p/john-canning-yates-the-quiet-portraits

[echiplin]

An Ode to Girlhood

(Pictured above are progress photos of my textile artwork 'An Ode To Girlhood')

Inspired by a version of memory, I began creating an artwork that looked like I was losing childhood, specifically girlhood. Relating to feminine aesthetics, I stuck with traditional art forms that could be associated with being a woman. These mainly came down to sewing and needlepoint, and as a way to combine both of them, I embroidered a cloth and then created a pillow from the fabric - a form of soft sculpture.

On the fabric, I wrote 'Dear Diary, I miss who I was' using my left hand so it would look messy - imitating the writing of a young child. I then went ahead and embroidered that and the image of a female face. As extra details, I added spots of pink watercolour and my fingerprints showing that there is a personal context to this artwork. The text is very much inspired by my thoughts and feelings regarding who I was in the past. I definitely miss the naivety of childhood, there are so many issues in my life right now that I long for this innocence.

Using old scraps from a dress that I had altered I created a pillow with the fabric artwork I'd made. Again using a typically feminine art form - sewing. In terms of technique, the actual pillow is constructed quite well and it sat well on its own. As a final touch to the pillow, I added a strand of blonde hair, two bows and a doll's dress - all items that could be related to being a young girl.

(Final Artworks)

Above are the final artworks, which were displayed on a plinth, in reflection, this display method suits well for the work. How it sits is slightly slumped over, which shows the organic movement of the actual soft sculpture. Having it presented as a soft sculpture is also inviting for the viewer, it presents girlhood as this comforting object that you can rest with (like a pillow). This is deeply contrasted with the text which presents the melancholy side of nostalgia, a deep yearning for the past.

[citrinesparkles]

citrine!! currently sending you a belated congratulations on your graduation! that's so exciting and such a huge accomplishment!!

and yeah the weather has brought me a lot of melancholy and nostalgia. there's been lots of mourning for my teenage years and a yearning for large bodies of water!!

i feel like such a fraud for not having watched the new little women adaptation--but i just haven't gotten around to it!! everyone always recommends it but now it feels like an assignment and my brain keeps procrastinating it... but now after hearing how emotional it made you maybe i'll finally sit down and just watch it.

have you ever watched the movie stuck in love? i feel like that's something that you'd enjoy a lot!!

because my mood has felt really stuck as of late, i feel like my music habits have been very cyclical. i've been listening to a lot of mitski which feels like a staple for the genre, turnover (specifically "take my head" and "cutting my fingers off"), faye webster, and panic! at the disco but ONLY a fever you can't sweat out

-austen anon ♡

thank you so much, honey <3

GOD. MOOD. oh i miss the water every day!!! every day. i grew up in an area with lots and lots of water and there is nothing better for a moody day- or a happy day, tbh.

if you do watch little women, i hope you enjoy it!! i really did have a blast. (i will say tho, i am Not known for having good taste in movies. me enjoying something is not an indication of quality i assure you HJSFKHDSKJ)

i have not! :0 i will add it to my-watch list, which is. extremely long and ever-growing, smh.

MITSKIIII <3 my beloved. she's so talented omg. i hadn't heard of turnover before, but i love both of those tracks!!! definitely will be adding them to my rotation <3

faye webster is also relatively new to me- i'd only ever heard "right side of my neck"! will definitely be digging through more of her discography now, thank you for the recommendation :)

ah, a fever you can't sweat out. anthems of youth <3

they're a little slow, but you might like i only wanna talk to you by the maine, and while you were sleeping by annahstasia and raveena.

a slightly more upbeat song (that just soothes me right down to my bones!) that i think might appeal to you would be fascination by tamino!

anyway i hope you're feeling a little brighter, sweetheart- sending lots of good vibes your way <3

#citrine responds #mailbox #austen anon #me whenever anyone speaks to me: hey listen to this song- #its how i show affection i cannot help this

[kitkatsgalore]

the long winter ❆

#MDZS #CQL #Mo Dao Zu Shi #Chen Qing Ling #Wangxian #Lan Wangji #Lan Zhan #Wei Wuxian #Wei Ying #Hanguang-jun #was rushing to get this done bc it's my one year mdzs anniversary today!! #it's not exactly a happy drawing but #i wanted to have something! #to celebrate! #i'm eternally grateful to everything mdzs has given me this past year #it's given me A Lot #so #sad wangxians! #i'm definitely feeling the winter chill start to set in #with the added nostalgia and melancholy and longing so #i hope everyone is taking care of themselves!! #song linked is like a river runs by bleachers #(the jack's 2015 remix ofc) #listen and think of lwj if you're looking for some heartbreak #'i woke up thinking you were still here / my hands shaking with regret' #'i know you're gone but still i will remember your light' #'and if you see me in the darkness / i hope you know i'm not alone / i carry you with every breath i take and i won't let up' #:((( #my art #kitkatart