#I didn’t even do anything I’ve never been flagged ever

[jadedrrose]

Shadowban update 2/16: it’s been a full 24+ hours since I sent a support ticket, about a month and a half since my account was shadowbanned, and nothing 😐. This is driving me insane

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Things I have learned tonight: I am much better at taking care of myself than I was able to in the past, I have absolute faith in myself that I can do things if I set my mind to them, and forgiveness is not always the right answer nor am I a forgiving person

[nvuy]

an ode to a nightingale — sunday

summary. you were never anything. sunday begs to differ, in his own twisted way.

notes. a thing i did as an experiment and also as a little gift to a special someone (you know who you are) because we both enjoy staring at this guy's face. he's a funky little dude and a massive green flag. 100%.

i redownloaded hsr and i’ve started penacony. i have no idea what’s going on. it’s probably because i’ve been stuck staring at dr ratio’s boob window the whole time. i’m like a toddler watching cocomelon. i cant look away.

warnings. mdni, for safety. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is a controlling dickhead, you’re an implied streetwalker, yandere themes, insulting, threatening, possessiveness, mentions of kidnapping, gaslighting, obsessiveness, lots of nice stuff like that. please let me know if i've missed anything!

“What do you want from me?”

You looked in the mirror as you spoke, and you saw some pathetic state of a person staring back at you. Behind the edges of the golden vanity was the outline of the filled bathtub with steam wafting from the surface.

And him.

You watched as he sank into the water with a satisfied gleam on his face.

You refused to linger on the scratch marks that left gorgeous red and white lines down his arms, and his chest, and his spine.

It smelled like coconut. Coconut and dusted sugar on creamy pastry. And the clogging smell of mascara.

It smudged down your cheeks, and your lips were ruined and swollen, and your skin was painted in purple bruises and teeth marks.

And you were sore. Every part of your body was aching.

Sunday was leaning against the edge of the tub, staring at you through his lashes. He always preferred his baths boiling, as if he wanted to melt his skin off. Usually, he’d bring a book with him and read it during his off time when given the chance.

He didn’t answer.

“You’ve changed,” he said instead. His voice echoed off of the white tiles in the bathroom.

“I look the same as the night you took me off the streets,” you murmured. “Like a whore.”

Sunday hummed. “Is that how you see yourself?” The wings extending from his ears dipped below the water for a moment. “A ‘whore?’”

You didn’t want to turn to face him.

It was difficult enough to hold his unwavering gaze in the mirror.

“You’re not denying it.”

“Because I think you look damaged.” He was honest this time, and there was bitterness swelling with his tone. He instinctively fluttered his feathers to dry them off.

“By your design.” You were speaking of how he made it his duty to ruin your skin with his teeth.

“What I’ve done to you is nothing. You had already ruined yourself by offering your body to those disgusting animals before I had ever even laid my eyes on you.” He waved his hand as if he meant no harm with his words. “I’ve merely saved you.”

Your jaw clenched.

He fluttered his lashes at you in the mirror and sighed.

What a pretty sight.

“‘Saved me?’” you repeated hoarsely. You tried not to claw at your skin in frustration. You willed yourself not to lunge at him and puncture his eyes from his skull. “Do me a favour and save me from your arrogance next. You’re deluded if you think trapping me in your bedroom is praiseworthy.”

He smiled.

“Think of it this way: a bird is much safer trapped in a cage than free to the winds.” The smell of coconut and sugared powder made your head spin. Of course, he would use the soaps and creams you wore when he first met you. The smell was engraved into his mind like a branding.

Although covered by a robe, you felt vulnerable. His gaze held strong. You weren’t sure if he was even blinking.

Sunday seemed too relaxed. Your freedom was a joke to him; what is freedom if you’re too busy giving your body to strangers? Did you want to go back to that life?

“You want me to get in the tub just so you can humiliate me,” you accused with a dangerous flash of your teeth.

You wanted to sound angry. You wanted to sound furious, but it was only a pitiful whimper of a phrase. You felt pathetically weak.

He was quick to answer, “I did not request your company.” He patted the book with golden edges that sat on a ledge of the bathtub. You didn’t want to ask of its contents. “You came here of your own fruition. You felt lonely.”

“You think you know everything about me.”

“But of course.” Sunday plucked the book from the ledge, careful not to wet the pages as he turned to the page he’d marked. “You are mine, after all.”

His tone was light. Confident.

Your face was burning. “Fuck you.”

Who even were you? Who were you next to him?

Nothing, was the appropriate answer. He insisted otherwise, though he’d never given you a definitive answer of what you were. He’d never explicitly stated you to be a whore, disobedient, disrespectful, too independent for your own good.

Everything you hated to hear about yourself, even if it was all true.

He’d only tut and usher you away with a wave of his hand.

You’re his, as well.

His teeth in your skin, his feathers tickling your neck, his wandering fingers that crept below your navel. He’s stained your skin with his. It’s hard to wash off—even harder when he shares the same soaps as you.

Perhaps he knows this, and that’s why he hopes you share a bath with him.

So you’re reminded that there’s a chain around your ankle.

“You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, y’know. You think you’re so high and mighty, and yet you’re naked and pining after some street whore. And then you insist that I belong to you, but also beg for me beneath your own sheets.” But that wasn’t true.

As soon as the words left your lips you screwed your eyes shut and you leaned over the vanity.

His smile only grew, and the tip of his tongue touched the sharp edge of his canines.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the marble countertop.

Here he was, vulnerable. Susceptible to a swift slice of a blade to his neck, to being held beneath the surface of the water until he stopped flailing.

And you’re still so afraid of him.

He reads you like the book in his hands.

Sunday cooed. “Just like water, you are destructible, easily poisoned, and ever changing. You are lost, entrapped within four walls, so desperate to escape, but you cannot think for yourself.”

You furrowed your brows.

He turned the page of his book. The water sloshed as his arms moved.

The smell of coconut was hurting your head.

“You speak in tongues because you’re scared of ruining your perfect image,” you said. “You’re just an insecure little boy who's stuck in a daydream.”

That forced his head to turn. He almost snapped his book shut. Instead, his fingers froze on the edges of the crisp paper.

Then, he let out a hearty laugh.

“Allow me to rephrase: your beauty is wicked. It is rotten, vile, and evil.” The sweet scent of sugar was a cruel joke. It juxtaposed everything that spilled from his filthy lips. “Your blood is muddied and ruined. You’ve allowed strangers to see your skin.

“You’re lucky I’ve tolerated your behaviour for this long. If you were anybody else, you would have lost your foul tongue after our first night together.”

The way he said it all made you feel so much smaller than you were.

You finally turned around to face him. The reflection in the mirror made the bathtub seem further away than it actually was.

The tub was in the centre of the room, craved meticulously from a blue crystal. To you, it closely resembled aquamarine. It was big enough to be considered a swimming pool if you removed the golden faucet, but you refrained from insulting his fussy craftsmanship and adding fuel to the fire.

Sunday was particular about everything; sizing, shapes, colours. Everything had to match, everything had to make sense, everything had to be perfect and presentable. Any faults or flaws were dealt with swiftly, whether that be a person or an object. You weren’t sure if you were considered one or the other.

Then came the specifics. A ledge for placing things, voids in the walls for storing soaps, adequate cupboards, flooring, walls, forms, everything.

Aeons forbid you dropped a glass and scratched the precious tiling.

And he was particular about you, though he never clearly stated what he wanted from you.

He wanted you. That was clear from how he would coax you to join him with gentle words and fleeting touches. How he would stain your skin and leave an imprint of your body on his bedsheets.

Anything other than that was muddled, muddied, lost in his own deluded mind.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him again.

Sunday fluttered his lashes at you. “Nothing at all.”

“Have you ever told the truth?”

You had instinctively drawn yourself closer to him. You leaned over the tub, fingers curled around the rim of crystal.

Sunday sighed. He looked sick, like delusion had twisted through his mind like poison ivy crawling along the walls of the gardens outside. “You are afraid of the truth.”

“You’re lying again.” He wasn’t lying, but you refused to make him feel as though he was in control.

That was he fed off.

Your fear, your touch, your taste, your words, every inch of your skin. His. All of it.

“I want everything,” he stated.

You wanted to break the tub and slit his throat with the shards of crystal.

“I want you to give yourself to me. All of yourself.”

How selfish of him.

He still views you as an offering.

You turned away and moved to storm out of the bathroom. You would wait until he was finished. You couldn’t be in the room with him.

The steam was burning your skin, and your scent on him was making your head feel like it was splitting apart.

He grabbed your face and forced you to look back.

You would have described his eyes as beautiful; golden irides with hints of plush velvet and a deep sapphire. But all he did was stare. He’d never look away, and he never wished to.

He saw things you did not.

“I want undying loyalty.” When you squirmed, he held your cheeks harder. “I want hopeless devotion. I want compassion. I want to see the silhouette of you in my bed first thing every morning.”

Your nails were frozen digging into his wrist, still wet and hot from the water.

He seemed as though he wished to say more, though refrained when he let go of your face. He’d abandoned his book now, his gaze remaining locked onto you.

Your cheeks stung from his fingerprints. You feared the patterns would be burned into your flesh.

“I want you to stop,” you whispered.

You knew what he was doing.

“Oh, I will.” This time, when his fingers raised for your face, he simply grazed them along your sore cheek. “Join me.”

You didn’t answer at first. You didn’t even move from your spot, frozen as if he’d drawn ice down your spine.

You breathed out. Your fingers were trembling.

“I’m not stupid,” you said. You were trying to convince yourself it was true.

Sunday only tilted his head. “No, you’re not stupid.”

He was already pulling the string of the bow around your waist. His wings bristled.

“I know what you’re doing,” you insisted, holding onto the fluffy material when he undid the knot holding the robe together. “I know what you’re doing.”

He smiled playfully. His hands pushed away the robe. “What am I doing?”

Your eyes welled with tears.

You don’t know what he’s doing. You are stupid.

You wished you’d never met him. You wished you’d never let soft hands and kind words and those pretty eyes of his draw you into his bed.

You shouldn’t have ever crawled back to him.

You let out a pathetic sob.

“Oh, you sweet thing.”

Sunday tutted pitifully and offered his hand.

Almost instinctively, as if it had been written in your blood since the moment you were born, you took it and leaned into his embrace.

His hair smelled of sugared tea. The feathers of his wings grazed over your face, now soaked with your tears.

He gently drew you into the water, murmuring something bordering on praise. You didn’t even hear what he said.

“I will make you all better.”

The water was hot. His lips on your cheek made you dizzy. The mirror had completely steamed up by now, and your chest pressed flush against his.

You tried to push him off you. You tried. You really did. You’d done this before, many times. Letting him break you down and watching as you lost control of your limbs and clawed at him until he held you.

He was good at that. Predicting. Letting things form the way they always did.

You were so angry. Angry at yourself, at him, at everything. Weakly, you curled your fists and hit his shoulders defeatedly. You heard him laugh.

All you did was betray yourself, surrendering and stilling as his cold hands dipped below the water.

“I will make you whole again.”

[cathrrrine]

Perfect / Love Won’t Die

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi x Reader • Law and Order SVU • Domestic Fluff, AFAB!Reader

Summary: Sonny happily holds the bouquet of flowers he bought for his girlfriend only for her to open the door and start crying. He immediately panics, but soon finds himself amused when she reveals the true reason for her tears. AO3

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my SVU imagines, but I had to with this one :) Happy 2024! My resolution is to post more of my work so I’m digging through all my drafts and posting them lol. Enjoy husband material Carisi <3

In all the six months you had been dating Sonny, there were never many problems that couldn’t be resolved with a simple conversation or a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As far as Sonny was concerned, it was the perfect relationship. He had gotten to know all your little habits; likes and dislikes, pet peeves, niche obsessions. Six months wasn’t exactly a super long time but it wasn’t short either. After only half a year of dating each other, he’d confidently testify that he had fallen in love with you deeply, enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you. He was happy to get married, have babies, grow old together…the whole shebang.

Things were going steady with you. He couldn’t imagine himself being with anybody else, and he was over the moon to know that you felt the samw way. Long late-night conversations about the future the two of you dreamed of revealed that you wanted him to be a part of it as much as he wanted you. Sure, Sonny was aware of how much of a (hopeless) romantic he could be sometimes, but that was in the past, and all of those relationships weren’t with the right people. His sisters had been talking his ear off ever since high school, warning him about women that would only break his heart. It made him wince just to think about all the red flags they ticked off angrily; gold-diggers, manipulators, emotionally unstable women, emotionally unavailable women…and the likes of it. That and their own broken-heart experiences that prompted very fuelled lectures of examples of men Sonny shouldn’t follow always rang in his mind, even until now.

He’d also been made well aware of how right they were about his exes with a bunch of ‘I told you so’s’ and narrowed eyes, but those relationships were in the past and he was much, much younger (and dumber) than he is now. He only had a couple of serious relationships in his adulthood, which ended up not being the right fit for either parties. Then, his love life got buried under the heavy, heavy load of police work and law school and he never found the time to make himself available in the dating pool. He was always too tired, too beat, too mentally drained. It was never a priority.

Then everything came to a stop and his whole world wouldn’t do anything but revolve around you. Sonny was smitten, like a lovesick puppy who got shot by cupid’s nuclear-powered bazooka as fate would have it.

He never felt this way about anyone in his life before, it was a feeling he relished in and was adamant on not letting go.

You were perfect.

Obviously, you had your flaws, but all only human, none of them fatal. Like how you had a habit of ordering too much food but he ends up being the one to finish it up when you realised your eyes had been bigger than your appetite — but he didn’t mind that at all, in fact he secretly loved being able to feast like a King — or how sometimes, you would arrive 10 minutes late to your dates on one of your busiest weeks, which he never complained about because he had his fair share of being unpunctual as well. Plus, you always made it up to him one way or another.

You were absolutely perfect, inside and out. Sonny thanked God everyday for sending a woman as smart, beautiful and kind as you his way. He’s never felt so lucky.

Sonny knew and loved everything about you, down to your weirdest quirks. If there was a Jeopardy! game where the topic was You, he’d be waving around his trophy like a mad man. What you didn’t tell him, he learned. It was the same way you got to know him. The two of you were always honest with each other, trust being the pillar of your relationship, it was why you got along so well. You knew how to make him happy, as he did for you.

So, why is it that you were crying as he handed you a bouquet of your favourite flowers as soon as you opened the door to your apartment?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” His sweet smile dropped to a concerned frown, uncomfortable and nervous at your sudden reaction.

There you were in front of him, dressed in your most comfortable pair of pyjama pants and an oversized tee that he was sure once belonged to him, messy hair up that he found extremely adorable. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that…well, you were crying.

He always brought you flowers. Was he late? He glanced at the clock on your wall. No…was it something he said? Something he did? Something…he totally forgot about?

“Nothing- no, everything’s fine, nothing’s wrong.” You sniffed, hugging the fresh bouquet close to your chest, dipping your nose into the floral fragrance to smell it only to find that the tears had triggered an onslaught of snot. That only made you cry more.

The bubble of nerves in Sonny’s chest was bursting at this point, he was almost worried he was having a heart attack. “Doll, you’re crying, something’s wrong.”

He held out an arm to pull you into a hug and you eagerly sunk into his embrace. You buried your face into the fabric of his suit jacket, breathing in what you could of his faded perfume. His calloused hands stroked your hair, softly caressing your head as he cradled it. He gently peeled you off of him to get a better look of your face, now red and eyes puffy from sobbing.

He held your cheeks between his palms and you pouted, looking up at him with sad doe-like eyes, and if that didn’t break his heart that he must not have one because the look on your face was shattering him in every possible way right now. One of his thumbs swiped a fresh tear off your cheek, he felt you nuzzle into his hand.

The tall blond gently led you to your couch and set the flowers down on the coffee table before cuddling up with you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him desperately, wanting nothing more than to be absolutely engulfed by everything Sonny — scent, skin and biceps.

“You’re killing me sweetheart, you gotta tell me what’s gotten you all upset like this.” You felt him kiss the top of your head and love bloomed in your chest immediately. “Come on, doll, what’s up?”

You sighed, big and loud, huffing away all the choked up tears with one big breath. “I swear it’s nothing. I’m so stupid.”

He was quiet for a while until you felt his voice vibrate from his chest again, “Was it…me? Did I do something wrong?”

You whipped your head to look at him, only to be greeted with a very worried expression.

Oh, Sonny. Oh, sweet heavenly innocent Sonny. How could you not love this man with every fibre of your being when he’s got that look in his eyes? The one where his pupils are so dilated, you could see your reflection in his big, blue puppy eyes.

How could you have been so careless?! Of course he’d think you were crying because of him, the sweet stupid man — God, you loved him so much. The thought only made you more emotional…and just like that the waterworks came rushing back in.

“Oh, God, Sonny-“ you hiccuped, pulling yourself away from him to put your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry- it’s not your fault at all,”

The lovesick, worried-sick man shot up next to you to pull you into his arms once again, stomach churning at the wave of emotions you were going through. He couldn’t even detective his way through this, his mind going haywire with every sniff that came from you.

“Then what is it?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, “Did something happen at work? Is it that asshole again?”

With what he dealt with at his job, it wasn’t out of the question for his mind to be going down that dark path, but he shoved his anger and panic down to focus on your well-being, remaining rational until you were calm.

That made you shoot up to look at him again, words tumbling out of your mouth hurriedly to curb his worries. “No, no! I’m okay, I’m absolutely fine, Todd — that ass — didn’t do anything to me, I promise you, I swear to God. And it’s not you, it’s not anything even remotely related to anything sane at all. I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over a bunch of random things, it’s just so—“

“Doll.” Your boyfriend’s voice pulled you out of your rambling. The loving concern that radiated off of him was enough to bring you back to your senses. Gently, he asked again. “What is it?”

You melted immediately, both embarrassed and exhausted from all the sobbing you had been doing. “I’m on my period.”

Oh.

Oh!

“I know, I’m not usually this emotionally affected but my hormones are all over the place and my TV decided to autoplay The Notebook, now I’m a mess.” You sniffed. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like this, much less deal with me.”

It was only then that the detective noticed the TV screen, paused on Ryan Gosling’s frowning face.

He tried to stifle his amusement, but it came out in a fit of giggles, much to your dismay.

“It’s not funny.” You pouted.

“I just— I thought—“ His laughter consumed him, shoulders shaking as he held up his palms to his face and ran his fingers through his hair, uncaring of how it would mess it up. Sonny leaned back into the couch and continued to laugh with his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so quiet it came out like a squeak, ashamed of how you cried like a baby in front of him. Although the two of you spent plenty times over at each other’s places and hanging out with each other, over the six months he knew you, you never had your hormones hit you this hard. It wasn’t uncommon to you, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either, and it certainly wasn’t an event Sonny had the pleasure of experiencing…until today.

“It’s okay if you’d prefer to be at your own place right now, I totally get it. I won’t be offended in the least, okay? I’ll call you in the morning.” Some men in the past have been weirded out when this happened to you, so you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be offended — it was ‘your fault’ anyway, that was what you had grown accustomed to.

But Sonny, the ever-loving and understanding guy, did not share the same view. Of course not! Raised-with-sisters, loves-his-mother, thoroughly Italian, good-Catholic-man-who-respects-women Sonny, would never in a million years ever even think about being upset with you just because your period messed with your emotions. And that’s why you weren’t sure why you were so surprised when he responded to your offer with a kiss.

This was Sonny. He would never think lowly of you because of something you couldn’t control.

“That’s crazy talk, doll.” He mumbled into the kiss, smiling as he continued to love on your lips. “I’d never leave you alone like this.”

You pulled away a bit to properly look at his face, “Really?”

This was the man your heart belonged to. You don’t know how you didn’t explode when he gave you the most charming smile that ever graced his lips.

“Really.”

Everything you were worried about solved itself into place, like sentient puzzle pieces figuring themselves out with confidence.

“You’re too good for me.”

Unabashedly, you continued to make out with your boyfriend on your couch, a newfound appreciation driving you mad with love.

“I’m only for you, babe. Don’t need anyone or anything else but you.”

———

Now that the two of you were freshened up and settled down with mugs of hot cocoa in your hands, you and Sonny were much more at ease.

There was nothing better to Sonny than to be cuddled up with his girlfriend with her head laying on his chest. You practically clung to the arm draped over your shoulder, making a nest out of his bicep for your face — which reminded him of a koala bear, but he kept that thought to himself. He was so comfortable, so happy that this was his life. His nose pressed against your hair, the scent of your shampoo reminding him of a holiday well-spent together in Mexico. Deja Vu hit him the minute he kissed your head, laughing through his nose when he remembered the events that happened just a few hours prior.

“Hey,” he nudged you with the arm you were glued to. You pulled your focus from the movie you were watching — a comedy, nothing that would make the ‘bloody demon hormones possess me’ as you put it — and raised your eyebrows curiously in response. “I’m just wonderin’…”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you cry when I gave you the flowers?”

You groaned, still somewhat embarrassed at the flurry of emotions you attacked the innocent man with. But you humoured the question anyway, “I opened the door and you were standing there, so handsome and so sickeningly charming, holding up flowers that you brought for me. You should be worried if I didn’t cry.”

“Wow,” he whistled. “I’m really that handsome, huh?”

You playfully hit him in the chest with your fist as you resumed your initial position, “Shut up.” A smirk managed to rip it’s way through your lips. “But mostly, I was crying because I was so sad that the flowers were going to die. I don’t know, just weird how my brain works on my period.”

It was a nonchalant mention, nothing big to you, but it stuck to his mind. Flowers dying made you upset. How precious was that? He catalogued the thought, filing it away for the future. The inkling of humour tempted him, though.

“So, not so much on the handsome part?”

You snorted, “Eh, I’ll give it a 60/40.”

“It should be in the news or something. ‘Guy So Handsome, Makes A Grown Woman Cry’” he gestured in the air as if there was a banner.

“How about, ‘Girl So Hormonal, Makes A Grown Man Cry With Her’?”

“Psh, I didn’t cry.”

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

You laughed, thinking he’d given it up when the sound of the movie began to fade into your hearing again.

“You should come over the precinct, tell the guys how I can make the ladies cry just by showing up at their door.”

He wore that goofy, toothy grin you were so accustomed to whenever he was joking around.

You rolled your eyes. Then decided to mess with him. “Excuse me? Ladies? Plural?”

The grin immediately wiped off of his face. “No- I meant lady, as in singular.”

“Mhmm.”

“I mean— no, that’s not what—“

“Sure, Son.” The monotonous voice you used made him sweat.

“You know you’re the only gal for me! I was just joking…hey, baby, come on, look at me…”

———

Months passed by and relationship milestones came and went. You finally met his family on month eight, and him yours. Month ten, you got a promotion at work and thankfully — not by your doing — Todd left the company. Sonny and the rest of the SVU team made a breakthrough on a case, you met his coworkers you heard so much about for the first time when he brought you along for their celebratory dinner. He was teased relentlessly for ‘keeping such a wonderful woman from us all this time’. You enjoyed the camaraderie that they shared with each other, and felt like you won a prize when they extended it to you.

Time passed by you so fast that you barely noticed it was almost a full year since you and Sonny made it official.

The day of your anniversary, he made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant — Italian, of course. You reminisced the journey of your relationship together over some fine dining and a delightful bottle of wine. The ambiance, mixed with the light-headed feeling from one too many glasses of wine, only made the love you had for Sonny so much more emphasised. It was a dream, to be loved by such an amazing man, to have found your soulmate. If you weren’t at such busy points of your career, you’d literally have his babies right then and there. A couple of mini Sonny’s would do the world good, you pondered. Unbeknownst to you, the subject of your thoughts was thinking the exact same thing, only he was dreaming up a babble of mini You’s instead.

Sonny and you walked home together — he had basically moved into your apartment by now, he was finding it harder and harder to be separated from you at night. Having you next to him made him sleep better, and just generally being around you made him feel better — the two of you never made his move-in an official thing, but there was no need to. It was almost like you shared a telepathic connection. Although, Sonny being Sonny, will make the moving in an official thing whether you needed to or not. Maybe into an actual house, with a backyard and a huge kitchen and a family to raise in to make it a home. One day. Maybe even tomorrow. He’d do anything, anytime with you.

“Got you something, by the way.” He grinned, keys jangling on the doorknob as he swung it open for you.

“Sonny, you didn’t have to.” You blushed. One year together and he still had that effect on you.

“Well, I wanted to.”

While you were taking off your shoes, he used it as a distraction to take it out of the hiding spot he so carefully planned — his height being an advantage to said plan — and waddled over in his socks to where you were sitting on the couch, handing it to you once he was sat as well.

It was a daintily patterned gift bag, not too big and not too small either, with a card attached to it on the front. You carefully removed it to read his words in neat handwriting.

Happy 1 year anniversary, doll. I love you so much. You make me the luckiest man alive. My love for you will never die.

You wanted to cry, so touched by his short but undeniably sweet words. He saw how your bottom lip jutted out, the way it usually did when emotions got the best of you, and smiled to himself with a bit of pride in getting his words right.

Slowly, you pried the top of the bag open, only discovering a plastic dome. “Careful.” Your boyfriend noted.

You wondered what it was, going over all the possibilities in your head as you took it out of the bag; lava lamp, necklace, tiny bottle, lantern…only to gasp when you saw what it really was inside.

A small sphere-shaped cactus with a crown of pink flowers, placed inside a white ceramic pot with the words, ‘My love for you will never die’ engraved in cursive writing around it.

Ahhhh, here come the waterworks.

“Sonny,” your eyebrows scrunched up, lips fully pouting now. “This is the sweetest fucking gift ever.”

Your use of words didn’t go unnoticed by the smiling man, earning you a chuckle out of him. “I remember the time you cried when I brought you flowers, and you told me it was because you were sad ‘bout them dying…it’s cheesy, I know. Corny, a bit. But I thought you’d like it.”

The rising inflection of his voice gave away his nerves, but you were quick to make your appreciation known. “I do, I do! It’s just the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you, baby. I’m- Aw…“

You choked up and he took that as his cue to pull you into his arms, careful to set the prickly plant down so you wouldn’t accidentally get hurt.

“It’s true though, my love will never die. You’re stuck with me for as long as you want me.”

“You know I’m shit at keeping plants alive, Son!” You couldn’t help the wavering in your voice, “Oh, but this is just so, so sweet. You’re just too cute for your own good.”

“Well, I was cute enough for you to accept the babbling guy who asked you out a year ago.” The giggling that followed made his blue eyes seem brighter.

“Yeah, I couldn’t say no to that face.”

You took the comfortable silence that ensued as a segue to your own offering to him, “Speaking of this cactus being put at the risk of dying, I’m gonna have to appoint someone to remind me it needs water every now and then.”

“I’m assuming that would be me?”

“Yup.” You shifted around to look through your purse. “So, I was thinking…”

Sonny narrowed his eyes at you, “Thinking…?”

You held out your palm and reached out for his, dropping a familiar weight into his hands. As soon as you pulled your hands away, the object revealed itself to be a single silver key with a brown leather strap keychain attached to the ring, ‘Det. Carisi’ engraved on one side and ‘Sonny’ on the other.

He looked up at you, meeting eager eyes that matched his own. You were practically bouncing with giddiness, excited to reach yet another milestone.

“Move in with me? Officially?”

God, you were so perfect.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

[spookyfbi]

Ok so. Confession time. I’ve been in fandom, shipping various pairings on and off for like 20 years, give or take, and I have never. NEVER. Felt so satisfied by what canon has done with my ship as I was today watching Our Flag Means Death.

It felt like I was reading a fanfic.

LITERALLY.

No no really, you don’t understand.

Our Flag Means Death is LITERALLY structured like a fanfic.

Normal shows, right? The character and relationship development serves the plot. If it doesn’t serve the plot, it gets cut.

In fanfics, on the other hand, the plot serves the character and relationship development, if there’s even a plot at all.

And guys, I didn’t realise this until today, but in Our Flag Means Death, the plot serves the character and relationship development.

Like, let’s look at season 1. The first 3 episodes introduce the characters, set the scene, and get the ball rolling. Then episode 4 is all about Ed and Stede getting to know each other and getting rid of the Spanish ship that only served to facilitate Ed and Stede meeting in the first place.

Episode 5? The dinner party. Does anything of consequence happen in that episode? It’s all there to facilitate the ‘you wear fine things well’ scene

Episode 6? Who cares about the ship they perform the fuckery for? They never come back. It’s all to explore Ed’s past and give us the bathtub scene. And then Izzy leaving the ship

Episode 7? We’ll, we get a Jim backstory, and ‘Oh my god this is happening’ and Ed & Stede deciding to be co captains.

Episode 8 is just an excuse to enjoy jealous Stede and then ‘you came back’ ‘never left’

And then the plot comes back but it’s still all about the relationship and character development.

Think about the middle episodes though. The plot could have been literally anything and it would have made absolutely no difference as long as the character and relationship beats still happened.

And now look at the two episodes we got today. Did… did anything actually… happen in Fun and Games? I mean other than relationship development and character stuff. And episode 5 (I can’t remember the name). Do you think the cursed jacket will have any consequence to the plot? Maybe the ship they left it on will come back, but you could probably swap out the cursed jacket with literally anything else and it would make no difference.

GUYS THESE EPISODES READ LIKE FANFIC CHAPTERS.

You’ve got the first few chapters to set the scene, then you’ve got a bunch of chapters where things happen and in each chapter it all culminates in a progression in the characters’ relationship. Then in the last few chapters the plot gets resolved.

This is just so surreal that an actual TV show is doing this. It’s like, have you ever fantasised about being a show runner, and how you’d just be so indulgent towards the shippers with your show? David Jenkins is living that fucking fantasy and we are all being so fed.

Listen.

Look at me.

We DESERVE this show.

If you’ve ever had your heart broken by canon, and not in the good fanfic way, you DESERVE this show.

I still cannot believe this is happening.

[fryingpan1234567]

listen I knowwww Roach should be British. he was on a British task force. he’s got the flag on his uniforms. but when @fixfoxnox said southerner Roach I just couldn’t not love him okay leave me alone

anyways. southerner Roach shenanigans

(I guess you could call this a Something in the Orange fanfic since he’s besties with Jackson in this scenario as well as dating Ghost and Soap……… but it’s general enough it’s probably fine ANYWAYS)

Roach’s accent, while it normally only lightly flavors a few of his words, gets considerably thicker when he’s visiting home

I mean like he does the thing southerners do where they somehow mash entire sentences into one word and the others are just like “……….what” but Jackson is nodding like he understood

Like. They’re all at dinner together somewhere. Somebody brings up the rodeo at the state fair. The Europeans have no idea what they’re talking about. Roach just goes “y’ain’tneverheardadat??” and Soap nearly has a stroke trying to figure out what he meant but Jackson continues to eat soundly like he didn’t hear anything wrong

COWBOY👏 HAT👏 RULE👏

HELP

No no no they go to some random dive bar for one of their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose. Jackson and Roach both have cowboy hats because OBVIOUSLY and like. They exchange this look that the others can’t figure out whenever one of their boyfriends steals their hat via flirting

(They tell them later and then can’t stop laughing while Soap and Ghost and Gaz are just sitting there like uh oh)

After that the hat stealing is very much purposeful

Square dancing to fucking Timber by Kesha and Pitbull in said dive bar because that’s just required idk what to tell you

Soap and Ghost seeing Roach ride a horse for the first time and visibly bluescreen

Roach recognizing people from high school in his hometown even tho he hasn’t seen them in like 20 years

He likes Taylor Swift but only her old country-adjacent stuff

Ghost and Soap couldn’t figure out his aversion to any kind of substitute milk until he took them home and they found out it’s because he grew up drinking milk that literally came from the cows he has in his backyard. They own two cows. And a few chickens. Very resourceful

Jackson and Roach dragging the 141 to Roach’s family’s Super Bowl party one year because in the southern states it’s a huge fucking deal

The Europeans being like “………this is quite possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen in my life” but their boys are having fun so it’s okay

God help the rest of them. Jackson and Roach are rooting for opposite teams.

There’s screaming, there’s wrestling on the living room floor, there’s spilling food and beer everywhere. The amount of rubbing it in after a touchdown lands is fucking crazy, and they’ve shouted about stabbing each other every single time

Eventually, maybe with a bit of googling, the others get into it. Soap hasn’t stopped shoving Mrs. Roach’s buffalo chicken dip in his face since he’d discovered it when they’d arrived, and Ghost was letting the kids use his tattoo like a coloring page while he chatted with Roach’s dad and brothers. Gaz kept getting elbowed in the ribs whenever Roach and Jackson tousled on the couch, and a couple times he was asked to hold Jackson’s beer so “I can kick some sense into this dipshit,” usually followed by Roach’s maniacal cackling. Price was banging around in the kitchen with Mrs. Roach. Nobody knew how he’d gotten dragged into that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself

On the topic of bringing the boys home to the fam oh my GODS thanksgiving

Ghost is not a dessert person. He’s never been a dessert person. But he had four slices of Mr. Roach’s apple pie, so,,,,,,,,, apparently he is actually a dessert person

Obvi Roach is good with all guns, but he was hunting with his dad and brothers by the time he was like six. He knows how to work a shotgun like he breathes

(Ahem being southern is why he’s so fucking stubborn btw if anyone was wondering)

Roach and Jackson both are religious Dolly Parton listeners

“DID U GUYS KNOW SHE WROTE JOLENE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ON THE SAME DAY—“

Ghost and Soap wake up one night because there’s a weird noise outside. They poke Roach awake like “???? what was that??” and he was just like “oh yeah the woods make noises sometimes. don’t worry about it. if something actually wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it coming” and promptly passed back out

“Yea I’ve seen a skinwalker before” “FYM YOU’VE S E E N O N E ? “ “It was in my backyard?? Relax it just wanted the coyote that always tries to kill our chickens. I didn’t really mind”

Gaz suggests investigating a weird figure he saw in the woods. Roach laughs out loud and Jackson smacks him in the back of the head like “that’s how you fucking die you idiot”

“Y’all’re lucky we’re here to stop you from doing somethin’ stupid. Fuckin’ city slickers” “What did you just call me”

The deafening sounds of crickets and locusts puts Roach to sleep almost instantly every night. Ghost barely sleeps every time they visit.

”IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD IF ONE MORE BLOODY CRICKET—“ “Simon not everyone needs literal dead silence to sleep—“

No matter how many pillows he stacks on top of his head he can’t escape it

Oh. Oh. The Europeans CANNOT do southern heat. They’re passed out on the porch while Jackson and Roach and Roach’s brothers play football in the front yard

Roach makes killer lemonade and iced tea nobody talk to me

He has a rusty blue ancient pickup that he says is his baby. One of the wheels is misshapen and the bed squeaks dangerously every time they hit a pothole, but he won’t get rid of it EVER

Roach introduces Soap and Ghost to catching fireflies in jars with his nieces and nephews. They are. So in love with the concept.

It gets turned into a competition, because of course it does, and it looked like Ghost was going to win— but then the youngest of the participating children silently held up a jar that was too bright to look at and audibly buzzing from the amount of bugs inside of it. They cut their losses and embrace the fact that they’ll never be That Good

Southern👏 sunsets👏 there ain’t nothing like it

Soap has a sketchbook dedicated entirely to doodling Roach doing farm things

Roach had a horse he took care of in high school. Her name was Peaches and he literally cried when he found pictures of her in his room

Ghost LOVES the sweet old border collie Roach’s parents have. That dog has seen many a stampede, and he’s herded just as many. What a man. Ghost does not leave him alone Ever

gods fuck me bro I could literally talk about southern Roach F O R E V E R (idk if you can tell from the long ass post Jesus Christ)

good morning/ night/ 4am lmk if you want more of this

[howaboutcastiel]

Not My Intention (Moon Boys x F!Reader)

Content Warning: mentions of physical/mental abuse

Word Count: 3.1k

Request (Abbreviated) @twhgirl

Could you write one moon boys x female!reader, where they've been dating for a while… They notice she gets anxious and startled very easily, but when they bring it up she always brushes them off so they don't pry. They don’t know she's previously been in an abusive relationship. And maybe they're at an office party and some guy comes to her when she's alone and the boys get jealous since it's obvious he's trying to flirt with their girl.

Content: Angst!! Fluff, poorly translated Spanish (obligatory) this shit is pathetic and soFT (not a comment on the recommendation just my writing) reader is dating the entire MK system

This is the first time I’ve tried to write in omniscient 2nd person so forgive me if I mess up the perspective somewhere <3 Thank you for the request!!! Much appreciated

~~

It had been just over a month since you had moved in with your boyfriends. Steven had tried to get you to move in sooner, even offering to cook you breakfast each morning to entice you, but you were trying to take this relationship one step at a time. The boys didn’t quite understand your apprehension, but they respect the boundaries that you put in place. You hadn’t told them the reason that you wanted to take things so slowly. They didn’t know about the damage your last boyfriend had left in his wake.

You had fallen absolutely head over heels for him, desperate to do anything to please him. You didn’t even care about all of the glaring red flags, like how he refused to meet your parents or to introduce himself to your friends. Before long, you had shut yourself off from everyone in order to meet his every demand. You endured the yelling, the manipulation, the guilt-tripping, and even the flat-out threats. You had even endured his escalation to violence; by then, he’d convinced you that you deserved it. It wasn’t until a particularly heated argument left you in the hospital with two broken ribs that you finally realized you had to get away from him. 

And so you did. But the damage was already done. Your self-esteem was shattered and your ability to trust equally so. You hadn’t even been looking for a relationship when you first met Steven Grant, but you were so taken aback by his gentleness. At this point in your life, it was the most attractive quality a man could have. You had been fairly understanding when Steven introduced you to Marc and Jake, as you felt safer by any of their sides than you’d felt in years. They soon all three became your devoted boyfriends, and you were happy. You didn’t fully comprehend how much your past abuse still affected you, though. How it still lingered in your subconscious. 

Tonight was the office Christmas party at your job. It would be the first time that your coworkers would meet your boyfriend (whomever was fronting tonight, that is). It would also be the first time that you would see all of your colleagues in one place, as this was the first office party you would be attending for the company. 

Jake had convinced you to wear quite a revealing dress, insisting that he wanted everyone to see how beautiful you were and maybe even be envious because you belonged to him. You thought he looked ravishing in his own suit, complete with a plum-colored tie to match the color of your dress. The party was more crowded than you had anticipated. You’d never even met many of the employees here, and you were just as unfamiliar with their plus ones as they were with your own. 

Jake was considerably more in his element than you were at a party. He was easily the most charismatic man you’d ever seen, able to stir up a conversation with any stranger in the room. You were not quite as socially confident. You spent a large portion of your night following him around. It was easy to smile and nod while he kept the conversation going with your peers. When he had spilled some of his soda onto his tie, though, he’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone in the sea of largely unfamiliar people.

You started by looking for someone familiar to talk to, someone you saw on a more regular basis. Finally, you found your friend Cameron sipping wine in the corner with her girlfriend. It didn’t take you long to figure out that both of them were quite drunk. You let your small talk fizzle out after it became evident that they were too far gone to keep it going, rambling over you about some trip they were taking to Rome over the holiday. 

“Hey, pretty lady,” A quite inebriated man interrupted your half-listening to Cameron’s babbling. You recognized him as a new hire you’d seen once or twice, but you didn’t know his name. He made you uncomfortable, but you knew better than to be rude to creepy men at this point. “How are you liking the party?”

“It’s pretty fun,” You replied, trying to be polite but not intending to stimulate a conversation with him. “Was just talking to my friends here.”

“Oh, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He purred and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was standing just slightly too close to you, leaning into the table in a subtle effort to keep you from walking away. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself? Would think you’d have a man on your arm.”

“He’s in the bathroom! My boyfriend,” You added quickly, causing him to raise an eyebrow in suspicion. You hoped that he didn’t think you were lying. You continued, “I’m sure he’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Well, I’ll just wait here with you then.” He said, placing a suggestive hand on your shoulder. Your instincts told you that shoving it off would be a bad idea. “I would sure love to meet him. Say, I didn’t catch this ‘boyfriends’ name. Who’s the lucky man, sweetheart?”

“My name is Jake.” You caught a breath in your throat as Jake emerged behind the man. Feelings of relief and of guilt fought each other inside your head. Was he going to be angry at you? God, you hoped he didn’t think you were flirting. At least he was here to get this odd man away from you, though. The thoughts scrambled for dominance in your brain. 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jake.” The man all but spat at your partner, dropping his grasp on your shoulder. “Quite a feisty one you’ve got here, wouldn’t you say? What a lucky guy you are.”

“Yes, she’s quite a pistol.” Jake’s expression was unamused. He wrapped his arm around your waist, more assertively than he normally did. “And uh… I didn’t catch your name. Do you work here as well?”

“Something like that.” The man replied shortly. He walked away, now uninterested as he realized you were a taken woman. And that the man you belonged to wasn’t exactly a pushover. Jake, however, looked anything but uninterested.

“Honey, who was that man?” The expression on his face was unreadable. It sent a weight to the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know how to respond.

“He’s, um…” you all but choked on the words, now genuinely upset by the look of betrayal on your boyfriend’s face. You didn’t know how to explain the man’s unwanted advances. Hell, you didn’t know if Jake would even believe you if you did. “He just started working here a few weeks ago.”

“Hmm.” Jake seemed annoyed, and you felt yourself break into a cold sweat. Despite all you knew about your partner, you were exhibiting a fight-or-flight response to his upset. Spiralling thoughts began to stir in your already fumbling brain. 

Oh God, he’s mad at me. He thinks I was flirting with that man. That disgusting man! What’s he going to do? I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch tonight. But I can explain it to him! Surely he will listen to me. Oh fuck, now he’s giving me the silent treatment. Is he going to yell at me in the parking lot?

The thoughts continued to race through your mind. Of course, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, Jake was giving you the silent treatment. But it wasn’t because he was upset with you. He hadn’t noticed the man’s unwanted advances--to him it appeared that the man was being playful, and that you were joking along with him. No, Jake was being silent because he was jealous. Not so much as that you’d broken his trust, but that he’d gotten himself riled up by the idea that you were his. Well, his, Marc’s, and Steven’s, but nonetheless he knew that you belonged to him. 

Yes, Jake was giving you the silent treatment. But not because he was angry at you. Not because he felt betrayed by you. And certainly not because he planned to yell at you in the parking lot or on the way home. On the contrary, he planned to show you just how much he appreciated that you were his. Jake led you out of the doors of the office silently, going over his plan to fuck you into the mattress as soon as you got back to the apartment. 

Your heart continued to beat out of your chest as he all but dragged you into the passenger’s seat of his car. By now, you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, but you didn’t make any comment on what you perceived to be his righteous anger. You didn’t want to cause a scene with your coworkers so close by. 

He was completely silent on the excruciatingly long drive home. Your thoughts continued to escalate. So did his. 

He’s got to be so angry with me.

She looks so fucking sexy in that little dress.

I think he’s gonna yell at me when we get back.

I’m gonna have to rip it off of her. I don’t have the patience to unbutton it.

Should I just apologize to him now? Would that make it worse?

I wonder if she gets off on flirting like that. Does she like making me jealous?

I should have just stayed where I was. Then he wouldn’t have come up to me.

God, I’m gonna show her how much she fucking gets me worked up.

What if he doesn’t want to forgive me? I’ll plead with him all night if I have to.

Voy a perder la puta cabeza. Tan malditamente hermosa. Y todo mio. All mine. 

Perhaps if Steven was co-conscious he would have noticed the way you were shaking. He was the first in the system to notice how anxious you were on a regular basis. Of course all of your boys knew how sensitive you were, but they never pried as to why you were so apprehensive. To them, it just seemed to be your nature and, if it was something else, you would open up when you were ready. 

Nonetheless, Jake was failing to notice you were on the verge of a panic attack. When he did steal glances at you between focusing on the dimly-lit road, he mistook your shortened breathing and blushing skin as evidence you had gotten into the wine at the party. He wasn’t to blame for his lack of understanding, truly. He was barely keeping himself together right now. So he really wasn’t at fault when he continued his ruse by avoiding your gaze as you made your way to the door of the apartment. He didn’t know that you failed to see his disfavor was just teasing. 

After listening to his cheeky thoughts for the whole ride home, the other boys were now bordering on co-consciousness. Steven could see everything through Jake’s eyes, though he was unable to take control. Marc was holding back more intentionally, though he wouldn’t pretend that he wasn’t equally as enthusiastic. He was egging Jake on, just as heated by your body in that skin-tight dress. 

“C’mon man, show her who she belongs to. Make her work for it, too.” They were all eaten up with lust, senses clouded by their desire and their excitement. It wasn’t until the apartment door slammed behind them that they were snapped back to reality. 

You jumped at the way the door shook against the hinges, the sound of contact echoing through the kitchen. You tried not to panic as Jake barreled over to you, jaw locked with aggression. All of your trauma was flooding back to you now, manifesting in your rawest survival instincts. Jake raised a calloused hand up to your face and you reflexively put up your arm to shield yourself.

Then there was silence.

At least, to you. There was shouting inside of Jake’s head as the boys processed what they had just seen.  

What the hell was that? Did she think we were going to… hit her? Why the hell would she think that? Is she scared of us? She’s never been scared of us before. She knows that we would never hurt her. Any of us! It must have been a reflex. A reflex? Why would she have a reflex like that?

Then there was silence in his head, too. 

Oh.

Of course, you couldn’t hear any of their thoughts. Your own thoughts were loud enough to fill the room. You felt immediately guilty for implying that Jake would ever hurt you. That any of them would for that matter. But you also felt a wave of pain as your mind forced you back to where those reflexes were learned. You couldn’t stop the tears before they were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t get enough air in no matter how much you gasped for it. You felt your knees buckle underneath you, luckily your partner was there to brace your collapse to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, mi Vida,” Jake stuttered, pulling your head into his chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Or to make you think I was angry. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I thought I was just poking fun. God, baby, I’m sorry.” 

You struggled to regulate your breathing as he massaged your back, holding you as close as he could. His body tensed underneath you and his hands broke their rhythm, indicating someone else was trying to front. You almost felt more guilty that you were making a scene in front of all of your boys. But you were admittedly more comforted by their presence. 

“Did someone hurt you, love?” Steven asked in a gentle whisper. You could only nod into his chest, your voice ravaged by the sobs overtaking your body. “We would never lay a hand on you, darling. Not one of us. Never. I swear it on my life.”

Steven continued to stroke your back, shushing you and repeating “you’re alright”s and “it’s okay”s until your breathing finally began to calm. He planted kisses on the top of your head, waiting patiently for you to regain your composure. It was several minutes before he gently asked you if you’d like to stand up off the floor. 

“How’s about I make you a cup of tea, yeah? And then we can sit and talk if you’re comfortable.” Steven coaxed you over to the couch, handing you the box of tissues he kept on his desk. Your eyeliner had ruined his shirt, leaving uneven stripes down his already soda-soaked tie. He gave no indication that he minded though. In fact, he grabbed one of his own oversized night shirts for you to change into as he waited for the kettle to boil. 

Finally he emerged from the kitchen with your favorite mug in hand. He’d lost his tie somewhere along his little mission to comfort, his top button now undone and his hair disheveled. You almost giggled at the thought of the two of you, hot messes barely reminiscent of your elegant pre-party selves. 

“Here we are, love. Extra milk. Just how you like it.” Steven brandished an uneven grin, wary of your response as he settled on the couch next to you. He spoke genuinely as he handed you the mug. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” You began, sipping from your piping hot cup. Perfect. Steven always made it just right. You knew now that it was time to tell the three of them the truth. They’d already gathered the big idea, anyway, you supposed. They had put so much of their faith in you. Hell, they practically worshipped you. It was time you gave them the honesty they deserved. And time that you admitted to yourself how much healing you still had left to do. 

You talked for hours that night. Mostly with Steven, but Jake and Marc made their appearances, too. Steven was a master of comfort, assuring you of the love and respect that you deserved. He even drew you a bath later that night, lighting your favorite candles and setting up speakers around the tub for you to play music. Jake made his fair share of threats and you had to make him promise not to go after your ex. You weren’t entirely sure he didn’t have his fingers crossed, though. Marc mostly listened. He listened intently. He also made sure to tell you how much he loved you every time you paused for breath. He would have given you the world if he could find a way to hold it in his hands. 

And when you finally succumbed to your exhaustion it was Marc that held you safely in his arms. His chin nestled into your neck, he whispered sweet nothings until he heard you softly snoring. Only then did he start to relax, sure that his best girl was taken care of first. It was the best night's sleep you had ever had in your life. It wasn’t far from his, either. 

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (Interlude): The One Thing I've Been Wanting

a/n: wow oh wow i think you guys are going to love this one. another mini novel featuring all the emotions and filth you could ever ask for. john and cass have their formal wedding in south carolina that he always promised her they would. a few little easter eggs in there i hope you guys want to scream at me about. hope you all enjoy, happy reading and love you endlessly!

warning: smut

In May 1946, almost one year to the day that John Egan hung an American flag in the middle of Germany, he was sat in a plush hotel room in Charleston, South Carolina looking at a photo of himself in a smattering of local newspapers and even The New York Times. Locally it was the front page, nationally a column right in the economics section. The headlines ranged from proclamations of a fairytale come true to rumors on how the match would affect the valuation of the Cooper empire. 

He liked the picture they had all chosen though. It was from a photocall Mrs. Cooper had insisted they do just last week. Cass had worn a beautiful forest green skirt and white silk blouse, her smile perfectly measured across her face. There had been a bit of commotion over what John should wear. He wasn’t set to pin on Lieutenant Colonel until June and the communications team had proposed stalling the wedding until his new rank could be proudly displayed in the photographs. Might I politely remind you he is already my husband. If you make me wait one second longer to appease people with this party you will not enjoy the sight was how Cass chose to handle it. In this setting, one completely new and foreign to the boy from Manitowoc, he was entirely reliant on her to guide him.

In the final image, she was looking at the camera but he was looking at her. It was fitting. He was merely a planet orbiting around her sun. He looked stricken by her beauty and nothing could have been closer to the truth.

“Come in,” he called at the knock on the door. He folded the paper and tossed it onto the coffee table. 

“You about ready to get out there? Don’t want Spook thinking you ran away.” Gale clicked the door closed and stood watching his friend. “You’re nervous.” It was a statement rather than a question. 

“I don’t know why. I’ve been married to her for almost three years. Today is just a societal formality.” Marrying in secret in London was not how women like Cass were supposed to carry themselves, according to her mother. If no one was there to see it then they wouldn’t believe it. “Just…what if something changes?”

“What if something changes? Bucky, you two are still going to be the same people tonight as you were this morning. You’re still going to love the wits out of that girl just like she loves the wits out of you.” John stood and started to pace around the room.

“I know that. I know how I feel and how she feels won’t change but it’s now so formal. And there’s an audience and my wedding is in The Times, Buck, the goddamn Times!” 

“The photo did look wonderful,” Gale pointed out as he nodded towards the papers on the table. “Your wife doesn’t need all this if you don’t want it, John. I am pretty certain that girl would run away with you to a farm out West if you asked her to.”

“No,” he shook his head, “all of this is good to be sure she is always provided for. When we have kids, they won’t want for anything.” Wealth like this was almost unmoveable during the Depression. John had been in college for the worst of it. Had seen the toll it took on his family and the people around them. Cass and he could make sure their kids never had to worry about that. 

“When and not if, huh?”

“Buck, you of all people should know we aren’t exactly celibate.” Gale didn’t need the reminder. All too often he had found himself pleading for a moment of respite with the two of them. It didn’t matter when or where, he would run out of fingers and toes trying to count the sanctified places those two had breached. “She’s going to be the best mother.” 

“And you’re going to be the best father.” John and Cass had spent the past year filling in all the blanks their time apart had forced upon them. They had gone to Wyoming for Gale and Marge’s wedding and not a single incident had occurred. It was as if John had never gotten on a plane to avenge Gale that day. They were so in love they talked about having a baby in nine months, talked about the perfect house to raise them in. Talked about names and nursery colors. 

But then they had gone to visit his family in Wisconsin. And something had snapped. All the anger they had hidden from each other in the name of surviving the cold German winter had bubbled to the surface viciously. All the anger he had harbored towards her for putting herself in danger would not lay dormant any longer. Anger that every night when he closed his eyes he had prayed to keep his wife safe, that John could take any pain as long as she was spared, and she had negated it all without a thought. Anger that she had wasted almost two years of her life running herself ragged to maintain their relationship and he had been able to do nothing in return. Anger that no matter the horrors he had inflicted upon people, the horrors of Stalag Luft that kept him up at night, the horrors of not knowing who you were looking at in the mirror, that she didn’t find someone better.

“Buck, I’m sorry you weren’t there the first time Cass and I did this. But I am happy you’re here for this one. I couldn’t ask for a better best man.” John pulled him into a hug, clapping his back a few times. 

“I only agreed to see you cry when you get a glimpse of her.” 

“Yeah? You’ve seen her?” She had put him under strict orders that he was not to see her the morning of their wedding. Had even made John sleep by himself. He was missing her desperately at this point. 

“She said the dress was a family heirloom. You didn’t manage to sneak out a parachute?” John blushed and looked at his feet. 

“You’ll make fun of me if I tell you.” He had. They had just agreed to save it for a more special occasion. 

“Not on your wedding day.”

“Cass had the idea that it might make a nice christening gown one day.” Wait until Marge hears how John Egan has gone all domestic on us Gale thought with a smile. “Did she get the gift I left for her?” It was a silver locket, the date and a note that simply said I love you and his name on the back, a photo of the two of them in Wyoming neatly placed inside. 

“It’s her something new,” Gale answered. Her dress was something old, her mother’s diamond headband something borrowed and she had taken the time to stitch her favorite line from Blue Skies inside her skirt in blue thread. Gale cleared his throat. “She told me to pass along that you would get your gift from her…tonight.” All the girls had giggled furiously when Cass had asked him to pass along the message. There couldn’t have been a better man for the job.

“I think her asking you to tell me that is a gift all in itself, Buck.”

----

Cass was sat in front of the vanity mirror, admiring how her new necklace looked with a smile. She had already married John, had been through more life with him than any other couple she knew, but the prospect of the day still had butterflies in her stomach. It was the kind of day that flitted across her dreams as she had grown up. Wondering what kind of dress she would wear. What the ring on her hand would look like. Who would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Never before would she have pictured a man like John Egan but now not a day went by where she didn’t think of him and was waiting for both of them at the end of that aisle. 

“Ma’am, all the guest have been seated and Major Egan is making his way to the altar in-”

“I’d like to see him.” Maybe that was what she needed to calm her nerves. Some needed whiskey or cigarettes but she just needed John. “He doesn’t need to see me, I just need to see him.”

And that was how, on his way to walk down the aisle, he was dragged into a room and told to sit patiently while the woman in charge of ensuring this entire wedding went off without a hitch, tied black fabric over his eyes. 

“Is this really necessary?” he asked once his vision was completely obscured. 

“Yes. Mrs. Egan requested it.” Gale sighed as the woman used Cass’ new last name. It always opened the door to something unscrupulous. 

“Mrs. Egan,” John repeated with a wicked grin. “Mrs. Cassandra Ann Egan. My wife.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had asked Cass to write her new name for him just so he could relish in how it looked. How naturally her wrist and fingers moved to draft the letters. It was spectacularly wonderful and he was addicted. 

“Gale? Is he successfully blinded yet?” Cass was getting impatient on the other side of the bedroom door. She could hear her husband and she could feel him. It was like torture not being able to see him or touch him. 

“Spook?” John got up and turned in the direction of her voice, his shins colliding with a coffee table almost instantly. “Motherfucker!” 

“I’m giving you two…” Gale ran through the numbers in his head. He had seen the feral acts the two of them were capable of committing in less than five minutes. Anything more than thirty seconds seemed like they would be consummating a marriage that hadn’t happened yet. “Forget it. You two wouldn’t listen to me anyways. Just remember your parents are right outside!” Gale escorted the planner out and shut the door behind him, a stillness settling over the suite.

“Cass, baby, they’re gone. Can I take this-”

“Absolutely not!” Her voice was no longer muffled as she opened the door and took in the sight of him. Her beautiful, handsome man. Hers and hers alone. The man she had fought for and lived for and loved every day no matter how treacherous. “We have done absolutely nothing the traditional way. Let me have this, please?” John never was too good at denying her anything.

“Fine, then let me have a kiss at least.” Cass gathered her skirt with a small giggle as he stood there awaiting her with his arms open. She pecked him quickly and he leaned forward in a chase for more. “I’m dying, Cass. You didn’t let me see you after dinner last night and now you’re right here in front of me and I can just tell you look heaven sent and now you want to tease me?”

“I’m just so happy right now, Johnny.” Now that name only fell from her lips when the emotions in her chest were too much to even say his name. Whether she was sad or angry or blinded by happiness. He had gotten so used to hearing John that anything different locked him in on a dime. 

“I’m happy, too. Get to marry you all over again.” He felt a little better when her hands rested on his chest, his wrapping around her waist and pulling her as close as he could. His palms could feel lace until her hips and then silk. Maybe a bow at the top of her skirt. “I love you, Cass. Making things grandly official today won’t change anything about us. We’ll still sing as loud as we can in the car and share ice cream on the beach and count stars when we can’t fall asleep.” Her soul warmed when he said the exact words she had needed to hear, not knowing how John had ached with the need to say them. 

“Those sound like the vows you should be saving for later.” 

“I can think of a thousand ways to vow to love you forever, don’t you worry.” She indulged him in a proper kiss then, careful not to mess his perfectly coiffed curls and John restraining himself from tearing at the buttons going up her spine. Everything felt heightened, John unable to anticipate her next move with the fabric covering his eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” she asked softly as she knocked her nose against his. “You are so beautiful, inside and out, and intellectual and selfless and meet all my weaknesses with strength...”

“Sounds like a soulmate,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to do forever with you.” 

“We deserve it, my love.”

----

John held his breath as he waited at the altar, all eyes on him as everyone waited for the orchestra to begin playing as a signal of Cass’ arrival. He fiddled with the front of his jacket, ensuring it was straight and smooth, smiling when he caught Olivia and Jill giggling at him from their spots across from him. 

“Your sister is trying to kill me with anticipation,” he whisper-yelled. 

“She’ll make it worth your time, Major,” Olivia teased. Buck clapped John on the shoulders just as the first notes of the Bridal Chorus began to sing through the grove of Spanish Moss trees. 

“Here we go,” Gale said lovingly. Everyone stood and John breathed deeply as Cass’ niece, Jessie, slowly walked down the aisle with a shy grin, tossing rose petals as she did. Her brother Sammy was next to her, two silver rings on a plush pillow in his grip. John squatted down to be at their level as they approached.

“Thank you, princess. You look so pretty.” Jessie threw her arms around him as best she could.

“Thank you, Uncle John.” She ran off to take her seat by her father just as she’d been instructed to at the rehearsal. 

“Sir.” Sammy summoned all seven years of stature he had in him to stand at attention. 

“At ease, Sammy,” John chuckled. The young boy had fancied himself a future soldier. Had been amazed when he found out John was a real pilot just like in his comic books. “My best man, Major Cleven, is going to take those rings and keep them very safe.” Gale took them gently and locked them into his breast pocket. 

“Good work, Sammy.” Buck saluted him with a smile and the little boy was off in the same direction as his sister. John stood to his full height and squared his shoulders, his eyes sharpening their focus on the ornate wooden doors that hid his love from his sight. 

And when they opened. 

And when she lifted her veiled face to look at him, finally. 

And when their eyes met and their smiles matched and the tears welled in his eyes…

Everything felt right in the world. 

Cass kept her eyes on him as she held her fathers arm down the aisle. She had to slip her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from giggling with glee at the sight of John waiting for her. As she got closer, she could see the glassiness in his eyes. He was always so strong. Her stability in this world. The man who had her back through anything with no questions asked. The one person in the universe that loved her unconditionally and with no strings attached and in the exact way that she needed to be loved.

“Do you give this woman to be married to this man?” John was itching to lift her veil and kiss her senseless now that she was this close to him. 

“I do,” her father spoke with pride.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as he pulled her into a hug. 

And then finally it was just the two of them.

And then finally he was able to hold her hand and help her up the final step to stand across from him.

And then finally his shaking fingers found the lace trim of her veil and he finally exhaled as he lifted it over her head. Her eyes were full of adoration as she looked up at him. 

“Hi,” he whispered. His hands landed on her cheeks and her hands rested against his chest.

“I’ve been missing those eyes.” Her own twinkled in kind. John leaned in, he couldn’t help himself, the officiant clearing his throat to stop them.

“We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of John Clarence Egan and Cassandra Ann Cooper,” they smirked at each other. She hadn’t gone by her maiden name in almost three years. Not since London. “We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared between these two people, as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends.”

A journey of love. Their love had already survived so much. From the moment their eyes had locked on an airfield in England, it had strengthened to withstand the tests of time. Their journey had taken them to the darkest corners of humanity the world had to offer. Had forced them to make difficult decisions in the name of survival. But all those decisions had led them here. All the darkness had led to this overwhelming light. Neither of them would change a thing.

A journey of understanding. They had come together and been torn apart and brought back together. And every stage had led them to becoming a new version of the person they had fallen in love with. They worked hard each and every single day to understand who was sitting across from them. Who was looking at them through the mirror. They had been off kilter for a little while but would always find their balance. 

A journey of perseverance. This was the easiest for them to feel when they looked at each other. They were both stubborn. Bull-headed in their pursuit of survival and a life after war. Aggressively unable to give up on each other. Relentlessly devoted to the forever that they had promised each other. 

“...and dedication to one another that lasts through time. As we stand here today to mark this occasion, we remember that what matters most is not the ceremony itself, but the love and companionship you will continue to share throughout your married life together.” John squeezed her hands. “There are no vows more meaningful and powerful than those which will be shared here today. Your wedding vows are a sacred declaration of your love for each other, the foundation of your relationship as a married couple, and the life you want to build together.” Cass thanked her sister as she handed her the piece of paper her vows were on, turning back to face John and letting his gaze give her the strength to lay bare her emotions.

“John, my blue sky, my love. From the moment I saw you, I couldn’t shake you. You were the first person in a long time to see me. To see all my faults and jagged edges and not to look away but to meet them like a perfect puzzle piece. Where I am weak, you are strong and you have spent everyday making me feel loved and safe and happy in ways words cannot capture.” John used his thumb to wipe a tear from her face and stroked his knuckles up and down her cheek for good measure. “I wouldn’t trade a single moment with you for anything in the world. Even the tough ones, even the painful ones, even the ones where I thought I was going to lose you. Because we’ve already proven our love can face anything and come out stronger on the other side. That forever will only be the beginning for us. And doing life with you, John Egan, will be the honor of my life.” Cass dabbed at the tears under her eyes, John knocking his forehead against hers.

“That was so beautiful, baby. I love you so much and-”

“Major Egan, you could just say your vows.” Gale smiled. Finally someone was getting a taste of what he had dealt with. He handed John the piece of paper and sent a wink in Marge’s direction. John looked down at the paper and swallowed before handing it back to Gale.

“Bucky-”

“I’d rather just tell you, Cass, how I feel in this exact moment because I have never been more in love with you.” She giggled as he held both her hands and locked his baby blues onto her eyes. “I fall more and more in love with you every second that I am with you. You are the reason I survived everything we went through, my love. The reason I made it through to the other side was because I knew that was where a future with you was waiting for me. You had this flyboy dreaming of growing roots from the moment I saw you. From the moment I saw you at a pub with your nose buried in a book, I knew I was done for. I knew you were going to challenge me and make me work to earn your love and it was so worth it, Cass, is still so worth it. We are going to build the most amazing life together, our own little solar system, and I will fight for you and our future every day, Cass. I promise.”

“And you’ve never broken a promise,” she whispered as the tears flowed freely down her face. 

“I don’t plan on starting now, Spook…Can I kiss her yet, Father?” A gentle laugh rippled throughout the crowd around the tears they were wiping away.

“Soon, Major. Repeat after me.”

“I, John Clarence Egan, take you Cassandra Ann Egan to be my wedded wife.”

“I, Cassandra Ann Egan, take you John Clarence Egan, to be my wedded husband.”

“I promise to stand by your side through good times and bad times…”

“...for richer or poorer…”

“...in sickness and in health.”

“I vow to stay true to you and love you…”

“...unconditionally for the rest of my days.” They both finished with a smile, drifting closer and closer to each other as the words wrapped around them. There was no daylight between their torsos as she threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he locked his fingers at the small of her back.

“Do you, John Clarence Egan, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

“I do,” he said just to her, his blue eyes molten pool of crystalline love.

“Do, Cassandra Ann Cooper, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do,” her heart skipping a beat as John licked his lips. 

“It is now time for you to exchange rings. Your rings symbolize the eternal commitment that you make to each other, and the never ending circle of your love. May these rings always remind you of the commitment you are making here today.” Gale handed each of them a ring, John taking Cass’ left hand tenderly. 

“I, John Clarence Egan, give you, Cassandra Ann Egan, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment to you.” The silver band fit perfectly on her finger, John swiping his thumb over it a few times to ensure it was real. That after everything they had been through, the two of them were right where they had always wanted to be.

“I, Cassandra Ann Egan, give you, John Clarence Egan, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment to you.” The band looked at home on his hand. Like he was always meant to be claimed as hers. 

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may-” He wasn’t able to get the word out as their noses bumped together in the urgency to connect their lips. Cheers erupted from the guests and he held her tighter and tighter and tighter against his body and she slipped her tongue into his mouth, John groaning with ecstasy. “It is with great honor that I present you Mr. and Mrs. John Egan!” Cass giggled as John dipped her triumphantly, his lips pressed to the side of her head as they faced the adoring mass in front of them. Her one hand was gripped tightly by his, the other holding her skirt, as they made their way back to the doors that led inside. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan, congratulations! We have the reception area-”

“I think I need to change out of my dress, first,” Cass said to the woman but looking at John. Her fingers were already loosening his tie. “Would you like to help me, Mr. Egan?” He nodded wordlessly, catching her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Don’t wait for us to start the party, ma’am. I’m going to take my time with my wife.” 

----

The door to her suite slammed shut behind them and he was on her in an instant. They couldn’t help but laugh into each other’s lips as their noses collided, and her hair was falling out of its style and his hat landed on the ground. 

“You make me so happy,” she whispered as her fingers carded through his curls, tossed his tie to the side and slowly began to undo the buttons of his jacket. “I love you so much, John Egan. Just the way you are.” John brought his hands, delicately, to the diamond headband in her hair, lifting gently and placing it on the table by the door. 

“There was a time I would have done anything to hear you say those words.” She whined as he kissed her once then pulled away. Cass pushed his jacket off his shoulders. “I thought, after I heard them for the first time, that feeling would go away. I’d still do anything just to hear you say you love me.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you.” Her arm hooked around his neck and dragged him down to her lips, his hand fumbling to free her hair from the confines of her veil and pins. 

“If I can’t get your hair out of this riddle…” Her kisses were doing nothing to help his concentration. And her hands on his belt buckle were doing even less.

“You haven’t even seen the complex feminine garments that are under this dress yet,” she teased. 

“Cass, I’ll just fucking rip it off of you if you aren’t careful.” She reached her hand towards her hair, pulling one pin for it to cascade around her shoulders in bountiful waves. “How in God’s name…”

“You were going to get started on the buttons of my dress, Major?” 

Thankfully, he was able to compose himself long enough to undo them without tearing the lace of her dress. The release of her corset and stockings allowed her to take a full breath and John lifted her into his arms, her legs around his waist and her chest between his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he muttered in a daze as he laid her on the bed. “And all mine.” 

“Let me see what’s all mine,” she breathed as she sat up and kissed down his chest, his fingers undoing the buttons of his dress shirt as quickly as he could possibly manage. She paid extra to kiss exactly where his heart would be. “This right here is the part I’m most honored to have.” She pressed her hand flat and he placed his on top. 

“It’s all yours. Every last beat.” 

Their kisses were sloppy and impatient as they were both fully bare, John crawling to hover over her and kissing a long line down, down, down. He kissed her clit softly, her fingers threading into his curls instantly. He moved oh so slowly and oh so softly and with direct intention behind every flick of his tongue and curl of his finger inside of her. “All mine,” he repeated. 

“All yours, John,” she panted. Her hips lifted ever so slightly off the bed, his forearm pressing them back down into the mattress with force. 

“You’re so pretty when you cum for me.” Two of his fingers curled against the spot that made her muscles quiver. “That’s my girl.” Cass propped herself onto her elbows to look him in the eye, exactly the way she knew he liked, as his thumb pressed against her clit in the same rhythm as his fingers.

“Oh, fuck, John. Faster.” He obliged. Watched in wonder as her moan caught in her throat and her chest blossomed with the flush of her orgasm. Her hips squirmed as she came back to reality but his fingers weren’t stopping. 

“Want you to make a mess for me, baby.” Ever since he had first learned he could coax arousal from her in such a way, he had been focused on working it out of her again. “Think you could do that for me?”

“Yes, Johnny.” His fingers went deeper and faster and curled against the front of her with a sense of purpose only she would be able to inspire in him. Her hands gripped at her breasts as she moaned. 

“Good girl. Just let yourself go, baby.” She gasped as her hips bucked again, John could hear the change in his fingers pumping in and out of her. Cass was so close he could taste it. When her nails scratched at his scalp and her back arched and her toes curled, he spread her thighs even wider latched his mouth onto her. It was like drinking nectar straight from the source. She writhed against his tongue as he lapped at every drop, John’s own hips seeking friction by rutting against the matress. 

He looked absolutely sinful. Chin coated in her cum. A curl hanging down his forehead. Kissing at the inside of her thigh to make sure he didn’t miss a drop. 

“John…” She was practically out of breath as he stroked her clit one more time just to watch the way her stimulated body reacted to his touch. 

“You soaked the sheets baby. I’m so proud of you.” 

“Need you inside me,” she whimpered as John stood, pulling her to the edge of the bed. “Need my husband to fuck me.” 

“My wife needs my cock?” he asked rhetorically. She nodded, trying to move her hips forward to close the gap. He tapped her with the head of his length before teasing up and down her slit to gather her wetness. He saw stars as he pushed into her. She welcomed as much of him as physically possible, her brow furrowed and mouth agape as she watched him rock in and out of her gently. “Cass.” His hand reached to wrap around her throat as he picked up his pace. A moan escaping her lips in time with his thrusts. 

“Cum inside me, John.” He almost lost his focus at her words. They had been so careful since getting back. Not wanting a child to complicate the things they had been working through. But maybe now that all of that was behind them…

“You mean that?” He needed to be sure, his hips quickening with a mind of their own. 

“I’m cert- oh, right there.” She grabbed his wrist as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Oh, Johnny, I’m so close.” Her own hand reached between them and began to work tight circles around her clit. John loved watching her touch herself. Had a habit of sitting behind her in a mirror and talking her through exactly how he wanted her to do it. 

His hip snapped quicker, the sounds of skin on skin and her sweet moans echoing through the room. “Get there with me, Cass, come on baby.” She knew how many thrusts away he was based on the way his forehead creased and his moans sounded strangled and he would always seek out a kiss from her. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted as he stilled and she felt a warmth filling inside her that she hadn’t experienced before. He gripped her hips and pulled her forward, burying himself inside of her to the hilt. Her breath caught in her throat with a squeak as her whole body went stiff before it was shocked back to life by her orgasm. Her moan was the sweetest song as it caressed his ears, his chest heaving as he looked where their bodies were connected. 

“Going to need to do that a couple more times before dinner,” he said, “Just to make sure I’ve gotten the hang of it.” A knock at the door broke their trance.

“We’re busy,” Cass called out lazily as John moved to drop his forearms on either side of her head. He kissed the side of her neck and she craned it to offer him more skin to love on.

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan, we’ve delayed your arrival as much as we can.” There was a very specific balance of timing for such an affair. The first dance and the dance with her father and his mother had to be cadenced perfectly with the toasts and the dinner. Not to mention the five tiered wedding cake and not to mention they had a ship that would be waiting in the morning to take them to their honeymoon. If they were any later, everything could be derailed. She knocked again.

“I am a little hungry,” Cass noted, her thumb smoothing over the crease in the middle of his forehead. “And you did promise you’d sing Blue Skies for me tonight.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She nodded. “Guess we better get you all cleaned up then.”

----

There was an empty chair at the head table the whole night because Cass refused to leave her husband’s lap. No one was surprised that they were late. That Cass’ hair was no longer in the elaborate style she had had previously. Both of their sisters certainly noticed the way her knees buckled and John tightened his arm around her waist. Gale and Marge recognizing the shade of lipstick peeking out from just underneath John’s collar. 

“And now the best man, Gale Cleven, has a few words for the lovely couple.” John whistled as Buck made his way to the microphone, Cass kissing his cheek until he got the hint and turned to kiss her.

“If any of you are new to the John and Cass solar system, I can say with authority they are like this all the time.” The crowd laughed and John raised his glass before taking a sip, Cass burying her face in his neck. “I’ve spent a lot of time with John Egan. Known him from the moment he put on that uniform, making the choice to serve his country. He is a natural pilot. A natural leader. It’s natural for him to love others but hard for him to accept their love in return.” 

“I think he’s trying to make you cry,” Cass whispered. 

“He might.” 

“When I was writing this speech, I was having trouble finding the words to describe the love these two have for each other. The love that never waivered, even on the darkest of nights. And that is because of two things. Firstly, Cass is his compass, his North Star. She guides him home. To safety, to her. To comfort and to love. In return, John chases away the shadows of the night and brings her a Blue Sky. His favorite song, that fact she stuck around after hearing his rendition should tell you all you need to know, and his favorite sentiment. That the presence of someone you love is enough to chase away all your blue days.” Buck turned and faced two of the most important people in his life. Those responsible for his survival in Germany. Who he would never be able to thank enough for getting him home to Marge. “You two gave me the strength to keep fighting. The strength to make it home to my wife. Because you two gave me the courage to believe in destiny and fate and the notion that our souls can find their other half.” 

Cass used her napkin to dab gently at the corner of her eyes, John’s hand squeezing where it rested on her knee. His eyes were focused on his friend with a look of pure love. The look of a man who had survived unspeakable horrors but had his anchor keeping him sane. One on that stage and the other in his arms.

“I love you, John. I don’t say it nearly enough,” she said with her lips pressed to his cheek. 

“Cass and John, I know you have the most incredible, love-filled days ahead of you and I cannot wait to watch the life you two build together because I know for a fact the world is a better place with your love in it. To my two favorite heathens.” Gale raised his glass, Cass blowing him a kiss and John tightly smiling and nodding in an effort to keep his emotions at bay. The flutes of champagne that were passed out went down in a single gulp, the band starting back up as Gale made his way back to the head table. 

“Gale, that was so beautiful. Thank you.” Cass untwined herself from John’s grasp to wrap Buck in a hug. “Here I was thinking you were sick of us and our antics.”

“I am sick of catching you two working on my future niece or nephew but will never tire of watching you two love each other.” Buck went to shake John’s hand but John pulled him in for a hug instead. 

“You got me through, Buck. Got me here with all these blessings,”John looked his friend in the eye, “I’ll never be able to repay that.”

“You repay me by loving your wife with all you got, every day.” Marge walked over to join them. “Hey, maybe you two even name your son after me!”

“Don’t count on it.”

----

The party showed no signs of dying down even a few hours later. Everyone was sufficiently drunk and full of cake. John had brought the house down when he sang just as Cass requested. She was giddy with her love for him.

“Get some fresh air with me?” she requested as he lifted her up and spun her around. 

“Lead the way, my love.” Cass dragged him out the door and a few yards away, dramatically dropping into the grass with a giggle and John followed suit. “Haven’t gotten to just look at the stars with you in awhile.” 

“We’ve been busy. I wouldn’t mind slowing down a little,” she murmured as her cheek rested over his heart.

“Me neither. A little time away is going to be nice.” A couple weeks on safari in Tanzania followed by a couple weeks on the beaches of Zanzibar. It sounded heavenly. 

“It’s going to be perfect.”

One year ago, they had finally escaped hell. It had taken all 365 days since to learn the new intricacies of the person lying with them. To learn their new scars. To love them as equally as the old ones. To convince each other they were safe and could let their guards down again and love each other with the same reckless abandon they had back in England. They had found their way back to each other. Found their way back into the perfect synchronous dance they had mastered. Found their way permanently nestled in each other’s hearts. No longer two separate people but a union. Two halves of a whole locked into a willing embrace for the rest of time. 

They had each other. And not a worry on the horizon.

[homeslices]

Jealous Jealous Jealous Girl

A/N: This request really made me giggle and kick my feet. I put off writing my essay for this so I really hope you enjoy! (Sorry this took longer than I expected, It’s the longest fic I’ve written and it was not on purpose 😭) Also I thought Lana's song kinda fit this perfectly!!

Summary: You are Ellie’s outgoing, amazing, flirty girlfriend, but when you push Ellie a little too far, she reminds you that you are just as much hers as she is yours. (There is a little plot at the beginning)

Pairings: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Smut

Ellie loves you. She really does. Everything about you. You’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever laid eyes on, you always put yourself out there, you’re outgoing, and take initiative in every situation. You also happen to be extremely flirtatious.

In all reality, it’s not that big of a deal. Actually, it's how you both got together in the first place. It’s just that, being flirty and touchy seems to be one of your traits not exclusive to your girlfriend.

That’s how it has always been though, even before Ellie. Now, she doesn’t blame you. She also hasn’t brought up to you, being the emotionally stubborn person she is. But, whenever you make a coy comment to one of your friends, laugh a little too hard at someone’s not-that-funny joke, or casually link arms and hold hands with someone that is not her, she gets a little green with envy.

She knows you wouldn’t cheat on her, she knows you’re loyal, and she knows you’re just messing around. She knew what she was getting into by dating you, nevertheless, everyone has their breaking points, and this very moment was Ellie’s.

There was a new girl to Jackson, and you took the invitation to make her feel welcomed. A little too welcomed in Ellie’s opinion. You and this girl also were scheduled for patrol the days Ellie and you didn’t have together, so naturally, having to trust each other with one another’s lives, you became fast friends.

You’ve introduced her to Ellie too, properly, not the “Ellie Intimidating New People” way. Ellie always felt as if the new girl was a little off. She didn’t mind your friends, she liked them in fact (considering most of your friends were mutual, she better). But this girl seemed strange.

Whenever you'd be done linking arms and to move your arm from hers, she almost refuses to let go. She always leans a little too close to you, even for your comfort. She’s clingy, never wanting to go anywhere if you’re not there. But, the biggest red flag was how she acted towards your girlfriend.

When you were around, she was always very cordial toward Ellie. She didn’t go out of her way to talk to her, but she did make conversation now and again, and was always very polite. But, whenever you left the room or just weren’t there, then it was like a switch had been flipped. She becomes cold, smug, and overall, a bitch.

This one time in particular when you were seeing her out of Ellie and your shared home, you gave her a hug and quick peck on the cheek as you do to all of your friends. The look she gave Ellie while she hugged you back though, pressing you closer to her body, made Ellie’s blood boil.

This was another thing Ellie had yet to voice to you. Now you weren’t stupid. You may have been naive to this girl’s advances, but you’re very in tune with your girlfriend. So when you noticed Ellie’s jaw clenching, or her eyes turning cold whenever you mention or see that friend, you knew something was up.

So, to make your girlfriend more comfortable (and yourself because that friend was getting a little too close for comfort) you started to distance yourself from the girl. Everything was going well too, Ellie and you were actually both happier with this space from her and you knew you made the right choice (not that it was much of a choice anyways, you’d do anything to make your girlfriend happy).

However, it all came crashing down when the metaphoric straw, more like brick, broke the camel's back for Ellie.

It was one of the days that you had that girl as a partner for parol, which actually went by quicker than you expected. Now, while you did put distance in between the two of you, you still were friendly. So when she insisted on walking you back to your place, you complied.

Ellie could see you from the window in your front room as you said goodbye, giving the girl a pat on her arm, instead of your usual hug and kiss on the cheek.

It was very clear that this girl did not like that, so she took your hand that you just used to touch her arm, pulled you in and leaned in to kiss you. In shock, but having fast reflexes, you quickly turn your head.

The door of your house slammed open and the girl jumped away from you in surprise. Turning, you see your auburn hair girlfriend look enraged as she stares at the bitch behind you.

Ellie then looks at you, eyes aflamed. “Get inside,” her voice was chilling, and you were quick to do as you were told ducking under her arm that was leaning on the doorframe.

As you walked in your house you could hear Ellie behind you speak to the girl, “and you” her voice was vicious now. “I better not see you near my fucking girlfriend again.”

You couldn’t hear her response as your door was swiftly slammed shut and locked.

You shift your weight from one foot to another nervously. Ellie was pissed, more than pissed, she was furious, and when she slowly turned towards you, it took all you had not to take a few steps back.

A moment of silence passed before her voice cuts through the air.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know Ellie, I didn’t know she-”

“What that she wanted to fuck you? That she wanted to take you away from me?” She scoffs. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“I didn’t.” You plead with her.

You know you didn’t. She knows you didn’t. But she still needed to get this point across to you.

“You’re mine.”

Her voice was dripping with dominance, and all you could do was nod your head.

Ellie didn’t like that though, she needed words, she needed for you to fully understand

You watched as she made her way towards you, the only sound in the air was her footsteps, and she only stopped when she was centimeters away. Her eyes looked predatory and you had to stop yourself from shrinking away.

One of her hands gripped you around your waist while the other one trailed up your arm, the same arm that one girl used to pull you near her. She slowly inched her way up, soon skimming her fingers over the side of your shoulder, neck, then suddenly her hand grips your jaw.

Your mouth goes dry, and you begin to feel a dull throb in your core.

“Right?”

All you could do was let out a shaky mhm, but that wasn’t good enough for your girlfriend. No, she wanted to engrave herself to your mind, soul, body, and heart. What she didn’t realize, too blinded by jealousy to see, was that she was all you could think about. And the way she was looking at you right now, was making you crave her in the most primal ways.

There was a shift in Ellie’s eyes, still pissed off, but there was a spark of desire, as if she could read your mind at that very minute.

That spark soon became a fire.

Ellie’s lips crash on yours fervently, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, which your girlfriend quickly wins.

Somehow, without tripping, you both make your way to your bedroom, mouths only parting to strip each other of clothes.

In what feels like seconds, the back of your knees find the bed. Ellie pushes you back then quickly climbs on top of you.

Her hands, which were previously holding your face, slowly trail down your body, pausing to pinch your erect nipples. This only causes you to let out a loud whine and quickly bring your hands up to grip your girlfriend's forearm, needing something to ground yourself.

Ellie makes a 'tch' noise and prys your hands off her, only for you to let out a whimper of disapproval.

Your girlfriend only sits back on your hips while holding both of your wrists in one hand. She stares at your chest rising and falling rapidly and your already fucked out face, lips puffy and pupils blown wide.

“You think you deserve to touch me?”

You hesitate, mind not being able to keep up with her words. Ellie didn’t like that though, so she reaches her free hand to grip your jaw like she did previously.

“Answer the question pretty girl.”

A broken, “no” passes through your lips, and lucky Ellie decides to grant you a little mercy by accepting your answer.

“That’s right, no you don’t,” reaching behind you, she grabs an object you couldn’t see. “So we’re going to take care of that.”

Object was soon revealed to be one of her belts, which, in a blink, found home around your wrists and the bed frame, keeping you in place.

“This okay baby? Not too tight?” Ellie asks as she sporadically places open mouthed kisses across your body.

“Yeah, s’okay Els,” you slur out, too focused on her repetitive kissing and the now throbbing sensation placed at your core.

If Ellie were to look in between your legs, she’d find your folds glistening in your slick.

Your auburn hair girlfriend just hums and her eyes flick up to you.

“Gotta show everyone who you belong to pretty girl.”

Placing a kiss at the center of your chest, she works her way up, stopping at the column of your throat. That kissing soon turned to biting, then sucking, as Ellie marked all over your throat, chest, and breasts.

At this point you were panting like a bitch in heat and could only grab the belt for a life line. Ellie worked her way down, claiming you as she did, and once she finished marking the insides of your thighs, there wasn’t a place on your body that wasn’t covered in hickeys and bite marks

She watches you intensely as she finally was face to face with your dripping cunt, and once her mouth wraps around your poor neglected clit, your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, causing you to miss the smug look Ellie was giving you.

A finger quickly enters your sopping heat, and soon a second follows, a loud moan is ripped out of you as the third one joins the other two. You're a puddle at this point, all you can do is whimper out Ellie’s name as her fingers hit that spongy spot inside you over and over again.

That coil in your stomach was tightening, and you were so close to cumming. Your walls were fluttering, whimpers getting pitches higher, eyes started to close, and out of habit, you voice everything to your girlfriends.

Your quiet, “Els m’bouta cum,” was the only noise that filled the room besides the pornographic wet sounds coming from between your legs.

Then suddenly, as that coil was about to snap, everything stopped.

Your eyes fly open in shock and disbelief, only to see Ellie watching you amused as she sucks your juices from her fingers.

Popping them out of her mouth, a smirk falls over her lips, which were covered in your slick.

“What? You didn’t actually think I was going to let you cum did you?”

“Ellie!” You cry out desperately, desperate to cum, desperate for her.

“Aw don’t worry baby, we’re not done yet.”

Just as she finished her sentence, she moved out of your line of sight. You heard the opening of a draw, and the sound of something else that was very familiar, but you could identify it it in your fucked out state.

Yet when your girlfriend walked back over to you, you realized instantly that she was no longer bare, instead, resting against her pelvis, was a purple strap.

“Think you’re ready for me baby?”

You nod enthusiastically as Ellie climbs on the bed again and amusingly watches you open your legs wider.

The silicone cock rubs against your slick folds, bumping against your clit everytime it goes up and down. You whine achingly, needing her, needing your Ellie.

“Please,” you cry out, as the cock bumps against your clit for what seems like the millionth time.

“Alright pretty girl, you can stop your whining,” She paused. “Just be sure to say my name.”

Then, Ellie takes that silicone cock and slides it all the way in.

The loud sound of Ellie’s name is ripped from your chest, and as soon as your girlfriend bottoms out, she swiftly begins a fast, hard pace.

She crashes her lips to yours once again, and snuck one hand down to rub quick circles around your throbbing clit. The coil that was building up previously and ruined, soon came back twice as fast as it did previously.

Slick was covering the strap base, and the sound of your wetness flowed through the air, along with your broken moans.

Your eyes rolled back once Ellie found that spongy spot in you again, and once she found it, she hit it every single time.

You could hear Ellie’s grunts as she dove into you, and god, it brought you ever closer to the edge.

“Els please,” you plead, barely able to get the two words out.

A sharp stinging sensation suddenly snaps across your cheek, and clenching hard around the fake cock, you realize Ellie had slapped your face. Not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough so you could feel the tingly sensation.

You let out a guttural moan, and finally your girlfriend responds.

“Say you’re mine baby, and I’ll let you cum,” she breathes out.

“M’ yours Els, all yours, only yours.”

You’re babbling nonsense at this point, Ellie could only make out her name before the gibberish started. So, smugly, Ellie speeds up her pace and places a few more marks on your neck, sucking your sweet spots to bring you closer to the edge.

Then that coil that has been building and building for what seems like forever, finally snaps at Ellie’s final sentence.

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You gush all over the both of you, and white consumes your vision. You knew this is what euphoria was, nothing could feel better than floating in bliss. And once you came back, it was still like ecstasy as your girlfriend was holding you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Your wrists were now free of your restraints, and the both of you were now clean of your release.

“Such a good girl for me.”

You could finally make out some of the things Ellie was saying to you through your clouded brain. You wrap your arms around her and bury your face in her chest.

“M’ sorry Els,” you mumble out, suddenly feeling a weight of guilt crushing you.

If you figured out how that girl felt before, you wouldn’t have had that argument with your girlfriend in the first place.

“S’not your fault baby, you didn’t know.”

Cupping your face, she gently makes you face her.

“We’re okay, everything is okay.”

She uses her thumb to lovingly brush against your cheek.

“Promise?” you sounded uncertain.

At this, Ellie presses her lips to you in a much more affectionate and pure way.

“Promise.”

The next morning, while you and Ellie were walking hand in hand in Jackson, that girl crossed your path, not making eye contact with either you or your girlfriend. No, instead her gaze was directed towards your bare neck, covered in the reminder Ellie gave you, and the warning she gave to others.

If she can’t have you, no one else in this world can.

[alcestas-sloboda]

I see so many reflections today from different people: someone woke up from the explosions, some from a phone call, some woke up and saw hundreds of notifications from different telegram channels. It is still so unimaginably bizarre. I have no ability to put into words the feeling of your world falling apart and we didn’t even understand half of the danger that was surrounding us. We were so damn close to disaster with half of Europe believing that nothing good will come out of it.

Ukrainians didn’t care what Europeans thought though, I personally saw news pieces about "Russia will take control of Kyiv" a lot later, somewhere in May, when Ukrainian military took control over the north of the country. And I’m so eternally grateful to every Ukrainian who made sure that all this "experts" sat in those flashy studios red from guilt. I’m grateful for my life, I’m grateful for our Ukraine. She persist. She is still the love of our lives. She’s hurt and devastated but she lives despite all the attempts to destroy her. Same as us. Somehow still here.

Yet I feel more detached from the western world than ever and I’m so fucking jealous of you all. It’s not even about the rockets or shakheds - somewhere along the lines you accept the fact that you may die in any moment - it’s about normal things like your Twitter feed that doesn’t look like a necrology, military terms that don’t make any sense to you, your city that doesn’t stop everyday to mourn the dead, you don’t feel guilty for trying to live a normal life while your classmate, who wanted to be a director, posts stories from the trenches. All of that and more. I’m not even entitled to my emotions because there always will be someone who says that my country is not suffering enough. I no longer react to comments like this as emotionally as I’ve done before but it is still so bizarre to see stuff like that from people whose countries have always been the one to inflict suffering on others.

I may sound mean or sarcastic or whatever but there is so much negativity inside of us that was put there by people like I’ve mentioned above that it is going to be released from time to time. "Your country shouldn’t exist", "Only 9 thousand killed", "You all are nazis/racist/zionists/any of the -ist terms" - yet you should always react in a constructive way because the moment you let your emotions go, you are the worst person on the planet. But who am I kidding, some people here do believe that we are. There is a thousand bad people with sketchy patches in a 40-million country and suddenly "That’s why I no longer support Ukraine". Well, honey, that means you never did. Because Syrian flags were quickly replaced with Ukrainian ones and just as quickly with Palestinian. It’s not about the "Support the oppressed", it’s "Anything to not feel guilty" because then you’ll find the reason to hate Palestinians, just as you did with us. If only you cared about the problematic shit happening in you country as much as you care about our political and social life.

But there are people who still are there for us. Countries that are still here. We may not say it as often but we are thankful. So very thankful for everything you’ve done and are doing for us. Thank you for hearing us and uplifting our voices.

Recently one of the most beautiful people here have lost her life defending me and you. She was always in my notes, always making sure that we didn’t feel uncomfortable even if she of all the people had all the right to be upfront about her thoughts and feelings. I don’t think I will ever get rid of the feeling of guilt. She was there while I wasn’t. She said to mourn her through anger. Anger towards the oppressor. Anger that should be directed into something useful: donations, sharing info, contacting your MPs and so on.

The soldier‘s death is not something out of ordinary during the war, it’s not considered a war crime but what if half of the army are civilians? Volunteers who left their homes to protect them. What if the soldier was a teacher, a poet, an actor, an IT-specialist, a scientist, what then? Isn’t it a tragedy? My country is loosing yet another generation of beautiful talented people and it makes my view of the future even darker.

But what can I say? I’m still here. My country still stands. Ukrainian air defence is doing everything possible and impossible to protect the lives of the civilians. Ukrainian military is still the only thing keeping us all alive. Heroes, titans, gods. Glory to them. Eternal glory to those who lost their lives defending Ukraine.

To Ukrainians: якось буде, прорвемся.

[prototypesteve]

1994. A little story about my asexuality being misinterpreted (by a professional) as a disorder, and how that led to years of trouble.

Animation Description: An aromatic-asexual sense pride flag, onto which someone writes "So the thing is… I don't think I've ever had what my friends say would qualify as a real crush, and even after four years of college I still haven't started dating, but maybe the weirdest part is that I've never wanted to." Then, abruptly and violently black paint is spattered across the message and in white text someone superimposes the dismissive message "It's just low self esteem! – Expert opinion"

In 1994, I went to see a counsellor.

What happened was some friends and I were just talking about life. We were all in our early 20s, and so of course sex came up, and I confided that no, I hadn’t had it yet. In fact, I hadn’t even been on anything that would qualify as a date, yet.

I’ve always had good luck with friends. Instead of teasing me about it, one of them gave me the name of a counselling clinic, because they thought it might be worth checking that everything was okay, and there wasn’t something getting in the way. (It was the 1990s, and Generation X didn’t have taboos about getting help.) So I made an appointment.

I described what we’d now call textbook aromantic asexuality. I explained that I was 22, and hadn’t yet been in a relationship. I hadn’t even had anything like a crush. I hadn’t experimented; no kisses on a dare. I had pretty good friendships with guys and girls, but nothing closer than friendship. I felt “behind schedule,” especially because my friends all found it odd that I was still inexperienced.

The counsellor gently asked if I felt it was because I wasn’t allowed to be “experienced”. They noted that I referred to everything euphemistically. Experienced. Relationship. Spark. Feelings. Dating. I never said love, sex, aroused, boyfriend, or girlfriend. I never said romance. Was it because my parents had some strict taboos around seeing girls while I was just fresh out of college, when I should be focused on my career? (I’m half Japanese so that was plausible.) Was it because I felt I wasn’t allowed to love the people I felt attracted to, because I might have been gay or bisexual and hiding that? (Also a fair question, because, sadly, the 90s still weren’t a safe or fair time for my gay and lesbian friends—I didn’t know that I knew any bi or trans people at the time, although I’m sure I did.)

I thought about it. The honest answers were no. My family didn’t make me feel like dating was inappropriate or wasteful, and I just didn’t feel anything “special” for any of my guy friends (and I had guy friends who were comfortable telling me they were gay).

I went on. I explained that I felt happy. I didn’t see any obvious signs of depression or illness or anything. All I felt was a little embarrassed about being so far behind all my friends. Not dating, not “feeling the spark”, not having a “type,” and not having any thoughts on a future family all made me feel immature, and like maybe I had some kind of developmental thing going on. I knew what all those things were. I wasn’t some sheltered or repressed prude. I just wasn’t doing any of that stuff. Not even the perfectly innocent stuff like having a crush, or even really having a “type.”

But it was 1994 and counsellors didn’t have asexual or aromantic on their list of things it might be. So the best the counsellor could guess was that I just didn’t feel good about myself. It must have been low self esteem. (The early 90s still reeked of the yuppie success-or-die greedhead era.) Their guess was that I might have felt my sexuality was something I didn’t feel I had earned the right to access yet, evidenced by my using euphemisms to describe love, romance, and sexuality.

They suggested I read “Feeling Good, the New Mood Therapy” by David Burns, and not worry, because some people are just late bloomers.

And I left there, redirected away from a truth that neither of us knew about. And it would be nearly thirty years before I “reopened the case”, and asked the same questions and got a better answer: Some people experience little to no sexual or romantic attraction. They aren’t necessarily repulsed by sex, or driven away by trauma. They might even have perfectly natural responses to sexual stimuli either alone or with others, but they just don’t feel “I want that, and I want it with this specific person, or this specific sort of person”. They call those people aromantic and/or asexual, based on a presumption that romantic and sexual attraction can sometimes be experienced independently.

I learned that in 2022.

I needed to know that in 1994.

I know I’ll gradually get over that. But yeah. I feel a lot of things about it. Some of them are bad things. But what I’m going to choose to feel about it is grateful that the person who needed answers in 1994 made it to my answers in 2022, and didn’t fall apart in 2022 when I found those answers.

I didn’t let that lost time break me. I didn’t let the mistakes I made crush me. I didn’t find anyone to blame. (That counsellor in 1994 wasn’t hiding anything from me. The world just didn’t talk about people off the Kinsey Scale.) I didn’t let it derail my faith. Asexuality isn’t a curse, and our confusion and fear about the gift of being different like this isn’t the Gift-Giver’s fault.

I’m just going to keep moving. With answers. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.

[yanderecrazysie]

Curiosity (Yandere Tsukishima)

This was a Quotev request!

Title: Curiosity

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing, suggestive themes, non-consensual touching, seriously creepy vibes from Tsukishima

Summary: Tsukishima seems like a normal guy, except that he’s always writing in that journal of his. When you decide to see what he’s up to, you learn that he’s anything but normal.

curiosity

/noun/

a strong desire to know or learn something:

 DAY 1

It’s the first day of school again. (Y/n) looked beautiful as ever today, I missed seeing her in her school uniform. Of course, I’ve been following her around town over the summer, but I missed seeing her in a skirt. This is the last year I see that until I make a move, as I doubt she’ll wear skirts to university.

I’ll do my best to draw what she looks like, since this is a special occasion, but there’s no way my art can do her justice.

Tsukishima Kei was a quiet guy, which, you supposed, was common for smart kids. You hadn’t known him well throughout high school and you doubted you’d have much time to get to know him, since the end of your third and final year was nearly upon you both.

One interesting thing you always noticed is that he was always writing in a journal of sorts, sometimes sketching away in it instead of writing.

You always wondered what it said.

DAY 17

(Y/n) smiled and waved at me today. She does that to everyone, I know, but I couldn’t breathe when she turned her divine attention on me! I felt like, even for a second, I had her undivided attention! I’d do anything, ANYTHING to get that on me again. I’d fucking kill everyone she knows if that means she’ll look at me and only me.

Tsukishima always gave you the distinct vibe that he wanted a friend, especially after his only friend moved away last year, but that he didn’t know how to approach anyone. You sensed a sort of longing when he looked at you and you wondered if your friendliness appealed to his loneliness. Perhaps he was awkward or shy?

You felt bad that you hadn’t had time to talk to him, but life really was just too busy. You always tried to be friendly when you passed him in the halls or made eye contact. 

It was the least you could do.

DAY 33

I love (Y/n) so much that I was willing to dig around in her trash can to find that lip gloss she’d thrown away. How many guys would do THAT for their girlfriends? She only wore it a few times since she didn’t like it very much, but that just meant I had so much of something her precious lips had touched.

I felt like I was in heaven putting it on- like I was kissing her! I had dreams about doing just that and I woke up feeling happier and more refreshed than I had been all year. I need more.

You’d always felt like someone was following you and like your things were disappearing, but you wrote those feelings off as paranoia. Maybe you should take those things seriously, but who had time for that? You were on the student council, an honor student, and preparing for college.

Why didn’t you see the red flags?

Were you really so colorblind?

DAY 52

I went to her house and climbed in through the window. Thank goodness she’s on the first floor.

I went straight to her bed and just laid on it and inhaled her scent from the pillows and blankets. She’s on vacation and I miss her so much, so I really couldn’t help doing all this. It’s her fault for leaving me.

I wonder if she wants our room to look like this or if she has a better one in mind. I’m not a fan of the color but, if she likes it, who am I to disagree? I just want her to be healthy and happy with me. I’ll make her.

You were a naturally curious person. That’s probably why you did so well in school- you had a thirst for knowing why and how that many people your age didn’t care for. You never just wanted to accept things without an explanation. Better to be informed.

Sometimes you were called nosy or told to mind your own business, but you couldn’t help it. You also had a bad habit of eavesdropping and “investigating” on your own. You’d do great in a Nancy Drew book, but it annoyed real-life people.

It’s really no surprise that, when you went to grab Tsukishima’s left-behind notebook, you couldn’t stop yourself from peeking inside and reading some of the entries and looking at the drawings.

DAY 82

I peeked through her window at just the right time and caught her getting undressed for a shower! I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Words can’t describe the experience, so I’ll draw what she looked like instead:

You felt sick. For once, you wished, desperately, that your curiosity was nonexistent. If you could take back everything you’d seen in the last few minutes, you would.

You’d just go off to university, blissfully unaware, and never see that freak ever again. How could he write and draw such things? How could he violate your privacy like that? How dare he-

“You read it, didn’t you?”

The empty classroom went so silent you could hear a pin drop. Your horror felt like metal weighing down your stomach and throat. You couldn’t swallow, you couldn’t breathe.

Tsukishima was right behind you, inching closer each moment, but you couldn’t hope to turn around or run away. You were petrified, rooted in place like you were a statue. A statue with wide eyes and terror etched into your features.

You wanted to claim you hadn’t but the journal was still open in your hands, opened up to a disgusting drawing of yourself and your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from it. Even if you wanted to futilely make up an excuse, your mouth wouldn’t form the words. You couldn’t so much as squeak.

As he stands directly behind you, his hands caress your waist, finger pads sinking deep into the flesh through your shirt. You shudder in disgust, but that’s the most movement your body can even make.

Even as his fingers dance at the hem of your shirt, daringly searching upwards against bare skin, you can’t move or make a sound. You wished you were a fight or flee kind of person and not a freeze.

You feel his lips brush against your earlobe and you violently shudder as he speaks into your ear a few chilling words.

“Don’t you know what curiosity did to the cat?”

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your minotaur mechanic boyfriend

General Plot: Your car breaks down and a minotaur mechanic is working on it for you, but he gets other ideas.

This was just a little fragment of an idea that I thought was funny, idk why

Minotaur (Kodan) x female reader

Work Count: 800

W: yandere fluff, monster fluff, kidnapping, minor character injury

“How’d you get so good at cars?” you asked, sucking on a lolipop and leaning against your beat up blue Bronco as the Minotaur mechanic worked on it. He lifted his head bumping his horns on your hood for the fifth time. His shop was in the middle of nowhere, but it was cheap, so you didn’t have anything to do while you waited but bug him. 

“I…uh…got drafted and learned it in the army,” he murmured, wiping his greasy hands on a rag and looking at you from under his fluffy brown hair. 

“Wow, you were in the war?” you asked, “you ever kill anybody?” 

It was a dumb question, but you asked it anyway. 

His eyes narrowed on you, but you couldn’t see it under his hair and he chuckled. 

“No, never killed anybody…I was a mechanic…” he said, “you’re awfully small to be so blood thirsty.” 

You glanced over his nearly eight foot form. 

“Just curious,” you pouted, “should probably know who I’m dealin’ with out here. Why’d you pick such a far out place anyway? I only chose you because you were the only shop without any wait. Do you even get customers?” 

He looked out of his garage at the green grass and rolling hill going for miles until they touched the forest. 

“Just seemed right,” he said. 

You shrugged following his eyes. 

“Seems kinda bad for business if you ask me,” you said. 

He laughed again and got another tool. 

“It’s not all about money, you know,” he said, “there are enough farmers out here who need tractors worked on to keep the lights on. It’s peaceful, no one to bother you or get into your business.” 

You looked at him and winked. 

“Like you have any shady business you need to hide in the countryside,” you teased, “you look like one of those all American types. I bet you eat apple pie for lunch.” 

He was literally wearing a t-shirt with an american flag with an eagle in the center stretched across his broad chest, though it was streaked with motor oil. His cheeks darkened and he looked at you thoughtfully, his eyes grazing the jean shorts you were wearing cut up to your hips. 

“Maybe I should start,” he murmured, his gaze slipping up to the t-shirt you were wearing with a big red cherry on the front, then settling on your mouth as you popped the candy in and out. 

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing behind you and you spun around to see what he was pointing at. 

That was the last thing you remembered before you woke up with a big headache. 

“Mmmmm?” you moaned, your hand immediately going to the back of your head.  

There was a big painful lump there, but when you pulled your hand in front of your face there was no blood. You looked around to find yourself in a pretty spare room with neat wooden furniture. There was the bed you were in, a chest of drawers, and a rocking chair in the corner. There was a cup of water on the table next to the bed with a pill next to it, but you didn’t think you were going to touch that. 

The door opened and you scrambled back against the headboard, unsure what to expect. What had been behind you? You blinked as it dawned on you that nothing had been behind you when Kodan walked in the door. 

“You’re awake,” he said smiling. 

He was clean and wearing a button up flannel shirt, rolled up at the elbows. 

“Kodan…” you murmured, your head still a little spinny, “what’s going on? Where am I?” 

“I took you home sweetheart,” he said, his warm smile never dropping. 

“Took me…what do you mean by that?” 

He sat down on the bed next to you and brushed your cheek with his much larger hand. It was a little infuriating that you couldn’t properly see his eyes behind his hair. 

“All I’ve been missing is a sweet little wife to keep my home warm,” he said, cheerfully, “you’re perfect.” 

You shifted and there was a clinking noise. Your eyes drifted down to the chain around your ankle and your face dropped to horror. 

“You can’t do this!” you cried, your gaze frantically flickering to his face, “you can’t be serious!” 

He smirked. 

“Sure I can, no one is going to find you or your car out here,” he said. 

“I’ll never stop trying to escape,” you warned him. 

He looked you over with amusement. 

“I think I can convince you,” he assured you, tossing his hair to the side and the look he gave you made you shiver with the heat in it. His fluffy hair slid back in his face and you blinked, unsure you had the same reticence as before. 

Tags: @southernbluebellereader another minotaur story, lol

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

A Taste of the Divine- E.M.

OKAY OKAY OKAY so I based this one off of a song I have been utterly OBSESSED with lately called The Summoning by Sleep Token. You can find it here: https://youtu.be/wJNbtYdr-Hg

I definitely think Modern!Eddie would make this kind of music and you can fight me on that. The other song I have quoted in here is I Have A Problem by Beartooth, which you can find here: https://youtu.be/KTUCGRu_DL4

Masterlist

You go to your first rock show and you get a much different experience than you bargained for.

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, angel, etc.), pnv, protected sex (wrap it up, babes), dom!Eddie, degredation kink, praise kink, slight corruption kink if you squint, drinking, cursing (lmk if I missed anything!)

Pairings- Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Word Count- 6,335

(Pic and gif not mine, credit to owner!)

There’s just something about him. 

Past the intimidating exterior of black leather, studded belts, and cigarette smoke is someone whose sole mission in his life is to worship every inch of skin on your body.  

You never meant to end up with someone like Eddie. You never even heard his name before your friend laid a poster down in front of you at your weekly lunch date, squealing as she told you about the show. You looked at the paper, detailing the time and place of a band you had never heard of, and honestly didn’t really have any interest in learning about. You were never one for rock music, instead favoring the sound of smooth indie and pop. But your best friend was so keen on going. Her boyfriend is in the band, but all of the friends she had that liked the kind of music they played weren’t available, so she was begging you to accompany her.  

“Pleaaase, Y/N! I’ll do anything you want!  It’s just their first headlining show and I don’t want to be in the crowd alone!” She pleads, giving you those best friend puppy dog eyes. After careful consideration and a lot of bargaining, you finally relent, resolving that she would buy your drinks all night.  

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds like pretty heavy stuff,” You eye her with uncertainty. “I really don’t think this is gonna be my scene,” Your best friend rolls your eyes at you, wagging her finger at you. 

“No take-backs! You already said you’d come! And you don’t have to like them, I just really want you to be there with me to support Gareth! You know how big a deal this is to him! I’ve never asked you to come to a show with me before, and I swear, if you absolutely hate them, I’ll never ask you to go again! I promise,” She sticks her lip out in a fake pout as an attempt to further suck you in to her plans. 

“Okay, okay, fine! Just this once, because I love you!” She does a happy dance in her seat across from you, giggling like a madwoman. 

“Okay, great! Oh, Y/N it’s gonna be so much fun! And you definitely have to wear something hot. You can borrow some of my fishnets! We’re all hanging out after and the lead singer, Eddie, he’s so fucking fine. If I didn’t love Gareth so much, I would totally be on that.” The face she makes as she speaks makes you laugh, which helps you feel better about going. 

“Alright, fine,” You roll your eyes, chuckling at her giddiness. “But this Eddie guy better be, like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”  

“I really don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” She promises with surety.  

When you get to the venue, it’s packed wall to wall with people in black, decorated with studs and leather. The smell of alcohol and sweat was heavy in the air, and you take it in as your best friend keeps a very firm grip on your hand as she drags you toward the front, near the stage. She pushes past people with authority, and when people give her dirty looks, she just exclaims “MY BOYFRIEND IS IN THE BAND!” This makes you laugh, because more often than not, the people just move out of her way. People respect that sort of thing around here, you guess.  

As you near the rail, your friend flags down one of the security people hovering near the stage, and your friend introduces you to him by name. “Carlos! This is my best friend, Y/N. I’m gonna go get us some drinks, so can you just make sure no one’s creepy to her? She’s never been to one of these shows before.” Carlos, a nearly middle aged gentleman who stands at least 6 feet tall and looks like he could wrestle for WWE, nods. 

“I got you hon, no one gets past these eyes,” Your best friend pats him casually on the shoulder with a smile. 

“I know I can count on you, buddy.” With that, she starts making her way toward the bar, pushing past people like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You look over to Carlos, not wanting to just stand there awkwardly. 

“So,” You begin, shouting slightly over the din of all the other concertgoers, “Do people get pretty rowdy at these shows?” Carlos makes a face and shrugs. 

“It really just depends on the crowd. I’ve had to knock a few assholes out in my time, but generally no one gets too rough with the people who don’t want it. Just try not to get sucked into the mosh pit. That’ll do some damage if you’re not careful.” You nod solemnly at his sage advice, clinging a bit closer to the rail for safety.  

“And what if I do get sucked in?” Carlos raises an eyebrow as he mulls it over. 

“Don’t be afraid to push your way out. They can get pretty nasty, but usually it’s just a bunch of people dancing like maniacs,” 

As your friend returns, holding the drinks above her head, Carlos takes a step back toward the stage. “Here you go! Tequila Sunrise for you,” She hands you the clear plastic cup, careful not to bump someone and spill it, “Vodka Cran for me,” She holds her cup out to yours, and you tap them together before taking a big drink.  

“Is it gonna start soon?” You ask. 

She nods, “Yeah! I saw Gareth and the guys walking through the back door. Should be any minute now.” You keep talking and drinking and laughing for a few more minutes until the lights start moving across the stage, and everyone starts screaming as the band comes out from behind the curtain.  

“Whoa,” You mutter, eyes going wide as you spot him. Eddie Munson is wearing nothing but a tight pair of black jeans and a leather vest, his arms and torso covered in intricate tattoos. His hair is a wild mess of dark curls, and he wears a serious expression. There’s a glint of silver around his ears as you spot a rows of earrings going up to his cartilage, and a little hoop in his right nostril. His broad hands are littered in heavy silver rings and necklaces drip from his neck to swing at his mostly bare chest. You feel your best friend nudge you, and you look to her as she gestures up toward Eddie. 

“Disappointed?” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.  

“No, no I don’t think I am...” You give a bark of a laugh.  

“I knew you wouldn’t be! Wait until you hear him sing!” You make a face of bemusement before turning your attention back to the stage, where Eddie has started shredding on his red and black crackle-painted Warlock guitar. Everyone goes crazy, including your best friend, as Eddie’s voice comes screaming through the music. 

“I found my vice, I found my vice. It lives in a bottle and wants me to die! I found my vice, I found my vice. It lives in a bottle and wants me to die! But I wanna be alive.... Go!”  

The sound is overwhelming, and it sends your eyelids flying open wide as you listen. You’ve never heard anything like this. You can’t tell if you like it, but you’re definitely impressed by the lung capacity Eddie surely has to be able to perform like this as often as he does. He doesn’t even start to sing until he gets to the refrain, and the suddenly smooth sound of his voice sends a shock through your body like you’ve never felt before. He grips the mic stand with both hands, eyes closed as the guitar swings by his hip. 

“I guess a bottle can’t save my life, I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind... This is my reward, a barely beating heart? But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself. My hands are in the air, and God, I hope you’re there! Cause I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself...” You’re stunned as he switches back and forth from screaming and singing so easily, and you find yourself start to move your body to the beat of the music, a smile growing slowly on your face. Your best friend is jumping up and down next to you and then the whole venue starts screaming with Eddie, “SUBSTANCE THERAPY NEVER SET ME FREE,”  

By the time the song ends, you’re dancing with your best friend. Although you’d definitely prefer your music taste to this, you can’t deny the intoxicating rush this music sends through your bones.  

When the next song starts, the mood in the room shifts a bit, and you can see why. Eddie’s body language changes from angry to seductive, his hands caressing the microphone like it’s a long lost lover. A stark comparison to the death grip he held on it during the last song. You watch as he pushes the hair out of his face, a soft synth echoing through the room before the guitar starts. Then Eddie begins to sing, his lashes low on his eyes, his tongue darting to lick his lips. “I’ve got a river running right into you. I’ve got a blood trail, red in the blue. Something you say or something you do, a taste of the divine... You’ve got my body, flesh and bone, yeah. The sky above the earth below...”  

He runs a hand up his toned torso, gripping lightly at his throat as he lets his eyes scan the crowd and you stand, mesmerized by the way he moves. When his eyes meet yours, you almost gasp at the intensity of his gaze. He holds it for just a moment before he flits his eyes away, probably to some other beautiful person he sees among this sea of people. Still, you can’t tear your eyes away from his performance. 

There are a couple minutes in the middle of the song where Eddie has a guitar solo, and it almost looks like he’s making love to the guitar in his hands as he walks around the stage with it. He comes to the edge, just a few feet from where you stand, front and center with your best friend, falling to his knees and throwing his head back, his plush lips open in a silent moan as glistening beads of sweat trail down his forehead and chest. It makes heat flood through you, and you watch his nimble fingers as they move across the strings like lightning. You wonder what else he can do with those fingers... 

As he gets back to his feet, his eyes open and land on yours again. The look on his face as his eyes bore into yours makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room for a moment, and then he’s gone, sauntering back to the microphone, the guitar dropping out as gentle synth intermixed with piano float over the room again. He takes his time taking his guitar off his neck, grabbing the mic stand and dragging it with him as he walks, back toward where you stand. Your best friend starts shaking your shoulder and you rip your eyes away from the delicious sight.  

“This is the best part!” She yells excitedly. “You’re about to get soaked, so get ready!” She squeals and turns back, gripping the rail, whooping in excitement. 

When Eddie stops, he lets his face fall forward, his bangs brushing over his eyes as his lips hover right over the microphone. The drums kick back in and he raises one hand over his head, ripping the mic out of the stand as the song drops into half time. “Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God? Or are you really here to cut me off? Or maybe just to turn me on...” He drops down to kneel on one knee, one hand still holding onto the mic stand as he taps his fingers on the mic with the other, keeping time. He’s so close you can almost hear his rings clink against the metal. “Cause, these days I would be lyin’ if I told you that I didn’t wish that I could be your man. Or, maybe make a good girl bad...” His eyes graze over you once more, and you watch as they rake up and down your body, sending a shiver through your spine. Then, he gets up, mic in one hand, stand in the other and walks back to where he was before to finish the song. All of the air is sucked out of the room for a moment as the final chord dissolves in the stale air before the room erupts like a million firecrackers. 

You have to take a deep breath to keep your cool. There’s never been music that made you feel exactly this way before. But then again, you’ve never been eye fucked by an insanely gorgeous metal singer as such dirty, beautiful words spill from his perfect lips before. 

The rest of the night goes on like this, and as you indulge in a few more drinks, you loosen up even more, letting your body flood itself with the sheer vibrations of the music around you. It’s like you’re waking up in a brand new world filled with raw emotion, no matter what kind. “We’ve been Corroded Coffin! Thank you!” Eddie screams as the lights come up, and the whole place, including you, is chanting as they exit the stage, all high fives and smiles in the euphoric haze of a good show well done.  

“Come on!” Your best friend has to pull your shoulder to get your attention, the rush of adrenaline written all over her face as she starts pulling you through the crowd. You make it to the edge of the rail and a security guard lets you through, knowing that you’re with the band, and you find the back door to backstage to go through. You run up the steps with her, laughing as you finally find some semblance of quiet behind the closed door. Your ears are ringing, adjusting back to the lack of chest rattling music as you go find the band. “Baby!” Your best friend runs to Gareth, and he lifts her off the ground, spinning her as they embrace. “You did so good out there! You guys were so amazing! I swear to God a record deal is coming any day now.” She then turns to you, “This is my best friend, Y/N, she’s never been to a rock show before, but I think we’ve won her over,” She explains. “I can tell you liked it! Don’t even deny it!” 

You laugh, smiling sheepishly as the band looks at you expectantly. You give a nod, “Yeah, that was... A rush.” You turn to Eddie, who smiles coolly as he takes a drink of water. “I’ve never in my life heard a voice like yours. It was incredible.”  

“You see, Eddie! I told you she’d like you!” Your best friend interjects. You shoot a glare over to her accusatorily, and she shrugs, a smug smile on her face as she holds Gareth close. You feel a heat rush to your cheeks as you turn back to Eddie, who’s still looking at you. 

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice doesn’t even show a hint of strain as he speaks, which is mind-blowing considering all of the screaming he did on stage. You follow awkwardly behind the band as they make their way to a sitting room of sorts, complete with a TV and a few couches. You sit near your best friend and Gareth, who share a plush armchair, but making conversation with them is no use, they’re too wrapped up in each other, kissing and talking to each other in hushed tones about the show and how much they love each other. While it’s a cute sight, it feels as though she’s stranded you on a desert island with a bunch of strangers, one of them being the scorching hot singer sitting next to you on the couch. 

You smooth your impossibly short skirt as you sit, trying to keep yourself from saying something stupid. “So,” You hear from beside you. You look up and Eddie is laying back against the corner of the couch, legs spread. You can see now the faint smudge of black eyeliner on his eyes, and it only makes the dark chocolate of his irises look that much more tantalizing. “You not really a rock person?”  

You scoff, quirking your head to the side a bit, “No, not really. Well, I never have been before anyway. I’ve never really enjoyed the screaming.” He nods, his brows raising in recognition. 

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone, I suppose. But you liked it tonight?” He raises his brows hopefully. You bite your lip lightly, eyes flitting up, remembering the feeling as the intense sound washed over you.  

“Yeah, I did. I have to say, I think you may have completely converted me.” You both laugh lightly at that. “Can I ask, how do you do that? It’s the most baffling thing I have ever seen!” Eddie’s smile widens a bit, and he makes a sound like he’s trying to find the words.  

“It’s a lot of practice. There’s some technical bullshit you need to understand to fully grasp it, but essentially, it’s all about breathing and the way my mouth is shaped,” He shrugs, letting out a short laugh, “That’s a pretty shitty way to put it, now that I think about it, but it’s fine.” You breathe a laugh and nod in understanding. 

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. Not like I do a lot of screaming myself, anyway,” Eddie smiles out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes looking you up and down. 

“Really? That’s a shame...” He takes a gulp from his water bottle, and you feel heat rush over your whole body. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt again as you try to think of something else to say.  

“Y’know, that second song you did... The girl you wrote that about sounds pretty lucky to have you to come home to.” You look at him through your lashes, gauging his reaction. You watch him clench his razor sharp jaw, his hand running over his thigh lightly as he adjusts himself to look at you better.  

“There isn’t one,” Your brow raises in feigned curiosity and bat your lashes at him sweetly. 

“Oh? Then who’s that one written about?” You lean toward him ever so slightly. His eyes rake over you once more, and he leans in toward you, his mouth hovering just over your ear. 

“Could be you, if you play your cards right...” A jolt of lightning streaks right through the center of your body, and you feel your heart thump loudly in your throat. Damn, he’s smooth. You try to clear your throat and recover your control, but Eddie sees right through you. It’s a game of sexy chicken, and he’s winning. 

“And what makes you think that I’d want that?” Your voice isn’t as stable as you wish it was and you inwardly curse yourself as Eddie gives you a playful, boyish smile. 

“I saw the way you were looking at me out there. And I think you saw the way I was looking at you, too.” He leans his arm against the back of the couch, laying his head on his hand. “Y’know, you don’t fool me, Y/N.” The way he says your name sends a shiver up your spine and wonder how he’d say it from between your thighs... “I can tell that beneath that bohemian, hippie girl façade, there’s a wild little girl just begging to be let out of her cage. All I’m saying is that I could be the key to her freedom, if you want.” 

He’s done it now. You bite your lip, a heat rushing over your face, all the way up to the tops of your ears, and you have to fight to keep your breath calm. You get up, letting skirt ride up just a touch so he can get a good look at the garters running down the backs of your thighs before holding your hand out to him. “Wanna give me a tour?” You ask innocently, but your eyes are wandering over him, fantasizing what he’ll look like once he’s on top of you. You see Eddie’s cool exterior crack for just a fraction of a second before he takes his time reaching for your hand. His feels massive in yours, his fingertips rough with callouses. The rings he wears make cold indents in your skin.  

“Right this way,” Eddie starts walking, his hand tightly holding yours. You shoot your best friend a quick look over your shoulder, and her eyes are bulging out of her head as she watches you walk away. She sends you a quick thumbs up before getting back to her conversation, a silent “Good luck!” as you walk towards a darkened hallway.  

“Where are we going?” You ask, your eyes scanning the dim hallway covered in posters and sharpied graffiti. 

“Right here,” Eddie opens a door to the right of him, and pulls you in. The room isn’t very large, but there’s a vanity sprinkled with a few pieces of jewelry and makeup items, and worn couch. Eddie closes the door behind you, and you hear a lock click as you look back at him. “So,” The tone on his lips is warm and sultry, and you inhale sharply as you feel his fingers barely graze your bare sides, the bustier top you wear coming only to just under your breasts. “This is my dressing room...” His lips hover right at your ear, and your lashes flutter when you feel the slight tickle of his lips just grazing the skin there.  

“It’s- it’s nice,” You’re losing your resolve, the slight wobble in your voice is giving away your rather compromised position. 

“Why, thank you,” You can hear the amusement in his voice as his lips travel down, not even touching, just teasing you with the hope of contact. His hands, however, grip at your hips a little more now, pulling you closer to him. A mad rush of heat spreads down your thighs as you feel the bulge of his cock starting to form in his jeans. “I’ll tell you how this is gonna work,” He mutters. “I’m gonna ask you what you want, and you’re gonna tell me. I don’t like playing guessing games. Do you understand?” 

You’ve never been spoken to this way before, but damn, is it sure erotic. Borderline pornographic, really. You nod, barely finding your voice as you say, “I understand.” 

“Good.” His lips brush over your shoulder now, and with all of the anticipation it almost makes you go weak in the knees. “Now, can you tell me what you want first?”  Your eyes flutter closed, and you move your head out of the way of his lips. 

“K-kiss me?” You breathe. Eddie chuckles darkly behind you as he presses a firm but gentle kiss to your shoulder, moving the strap of your top out of the way as he blazes a path up your neck, taking his time to find the spots that make you hiss in pleasure. 

“Like this?” He taunts. You nod lightly, your brain growing fuzzier with every sensation. He suddenly turns you around, spinning you by the hips. One of his hands presses into your back as the other grabs your chin, pulling your lips to his in a wanton display. His tongue darts into your mouth and you taste the faint menthol of what was probably a cough drop to soothe his vocal cords. The moan that escapes you is swallowed by Eddies mouth as he moves you backward, your legs hitting the couch. He lets you go as you sink down, and you move yourself so that your legs are spread apart to accommodate for him while you lay back. Your hands find his chest as he comes to lay with you, one hand finding your face, the other supporting him on the arm of the couch as he kisses you again. His lips move lazily down your neck again, sucking soft bruises occasionally, and you let out a soft whine, not wanting to be heard by the band members outside. Your body arches up into his, craving the feeling of his body against yours. 

“Do you want something, sweetheart?” He presses chaste kisses just below your ear, nipping lightly.  

“I want... Fuck... I want your fingers... Please,” Your eyes screw shut, and you feel his lips meander back up your face, capturing your mouth in another hot kiss, Eddie’s thumb brushing over your cheekbone.  

“I think that can be arranged...” The hand on your face starts moving down, over your collarbones, the curve of your breast, giving a squeeze there, down and down until you feel his large, rough palm against your heat. You grind into his hand pathetically, the scant fabric over your clothed pussy doing very little to hide the mess you’ve made. Eddie lets out a little laugh as he plays with you, and you can’t help but whimper at every touch. “Not so tough now, are you baby?” He presses kisses to your jaw, letting his tongue swipe along the skin. “You just wanna be a good girl, don’t you?” You almost want to protest, but it seems impossible as his fingers pull your panties out of the way and dip into your sopping pussy. He pulls his fingers up your slit, and you gasp harshly as he flicks over your clit, the callouses on his fingers creating a new sensation that that of your own.  

Eddie rubs slow circles round your bud, and your hands find his back, nails digging in as you get further lost in the pleasure. “I want...” You pant as Eddie’s mouth travels down to the tops of your breasts. “I want your fingers inside.” Eddie hums against your chest in acknowledgement, fingers moving down to toy with your aching hole, dipping gently in with two fingers. You push yourself further onto him as he curls up, and you tighten your grip on his body as he moans gently at the feeling of your velvet walls wrapping around him. 

“Goddamn. This pussy’s gonna make me cum quick, isn’t it. So fucking tight. You suck me right in, pretty girl.” He purrs. He pumps in and out of you at a decent pace, letting you reach your peak on your own time. You’re sure he’s done this so many times he must have it down to a science. Your moans get needier as the seconds pass, your release approaching in near record time. Eddie can tell. It’s like he can read your mind, or at least, your body, like an open book. “You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna be a good girl and soak my fingers?” The encouragement only spurs you on as you get closer, closer until finally, your walls flutter, and Eddie kisses you to swallow the sounds of your release. He groans as he continues fingering you, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit as your legs shake from the intense climax. You pant hard as you find your way back to your body, and Eddie pulls his fingers out, his lips still on yours. He pulls away as he brings his hand to his face, and he stares intently into your eyes as he sucks his fingers clean. You almost whine just at the sight of him, brain completely melted out of your skull, replaced only with the carnal need for him to fuck you, good and deep. “Next time, I hope you ask for my mouth,” He muses, “I need to get a proper taste of that sweet pussy.”  

“Next time?” You breathe. He gives you a smirk. 

“If you want,” he says. “But now, I’m hoping you tell me you want my cock inside you.” You let out a girlish laugh at that, hands reaching for his pants before you feel his hand cover yours. “Ah, ah, ah... Words first, angel.” He commands. You look at him through your lashes, hips moving up so your pussy grinds lightly against the knee positioned between yours. You see a subtle flutter of his lashes as he waits for your reply. 

“Please, Eddie,” You press kisses to his jaw, sucking deliciously. “Will you stuff my cunt with your cock?” He lets out a groan, his hips driving down into yours. 

“Good girl,” He rasps, and he lets you continue your task of undoing his heavy belt. You can see the strain of his cock against his pants, and you can’t help but paw at it, your mouth watering at the mere thought of him filling you up. He reaches around to his back pocket to pull out a condom, and unceremoniously rips the foil open with his teeth while you pull his pants down, spitting the ripped piece in his teeth away. You pull out his cock, stroking the long, thick length of it a few times, collecting glistening droplets of precum on your thumb before sticking it in your mouth, relishing in the taste. Eddie watches you rub the pad of your finger down the length of your tongue, a devilish smile breaking out on his face as he rolls the condom down his length. He leans back down, necklaces tickling your chest. “I knew there was a bad girl in there somewhere,” He hisses as his cockhead comes in contact with your entrance. You can’t say anything, moaning as he pushes into you harshly. “You like the taste of me, don’t you?”  

You nod pathetically as he grabs your legs, pulling you into a better position for him to snap his hips into yours. Every thrust punctuated with a heavy breath. All you can do is try to hold on to any surface, teeth clenched to keep you quiet as you writhe beneath Eddie’s command. The pace he sets is borderline bruising, both of you struggling to keep your breath as your bodies meet. Eddie hooks your legs behind his back, one hand going to grip the meat of your waist to hold you steady as the other starts playing with your clit, making your goal of keeping quiet enough to keep everyone outside from hearing that much more impossible. “God, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie throws his head back in a low moan, eyes screwing shut as he continues pounding into you. “I can fucking feel the end of you. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” His eyes open back up and settle on your face, contorted in this piece of bliss he’s giving you. The hand on your clit reaches up to your face, the finger coated in your slick pushing into your mouth. You accept it greedily, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue.  

“God, so fucking good for me. You look so pretty like this. So fucking pretty.” His cand comes back down to rub your sensitive bud again. You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, your breath coming in short pants. You squeeze your legs around Eddie’s middle, needing him to be even closer.  

“I’m- gonna- cum- Eddie...” You stare into his eyes like they’re art, and bite your lip as the tension in your core approaches a precipice. You shut your eyes, letting the feeling take over as you lose yourself. 

“That’s it. That’s it... Fuck, Y/N, I can fucking feel you...” He lets out a divine whimper as your walls pulse around his cock, his hand tightening around your waist, but he doesn’t let up, not for a moment. “Gonna... Gonna fucking fill you up, pretty girl.” You whine as you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you, and then his hips stutter, a deep moan tumbling from his lips as he cums. He fucks into you a few more times, slowing down, the fingers on your cunt rubbing languidly now. Finally, he stills, and you’re both just staring at each other, breaths heavy, pupils blown in the euphoria of the mind-blowing sex you just had.  

Finally, you let out a light laugh, your hand going to wipe a few stray hairs from your forehead. “That was...” You close your eyes and lay your head back against the seat of the couch. “That was fucking amazing.” Eddie gently pulls out of you, and you wince as he helps you set your legs back down, the muscle ache already seeping into your thighs. 

“Yeah,” he says. His lips form a Chesire cat smile, a few beads of sweat falling from his hairline. “I think that I would agree,” His bangs are stuck to his skin, and even though you’ve just had some of the best sex of your life, you can’t help but already want more. You start to sit up a bit as Eddie moves off of the couch to throw the condom away, and he grabs a small towel to hand to you before getting one for himself.  

“So,” He looks to you as he puts his softening cock back in his pants, pulling his belt back through the buckle. “About next time...?” You ask. He lets out a small laugh as he throws your towel into the corner of the room.  

“What about it?” He has a coy smile on his face, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“Will there really be one? Or was that just dirty talk?”  

He considers this for a moment, looking you up and down as you smooth your skirt back into place before nodding. “Yeah, there’ll be a next time. How about you give me your number, and I’ll take you out to dinner sometime?” Your brows flick up in surprise, not thinking he would offer a date. 

“Do you offer that to all of the girls you fuck after shows or just me?” You’re almost genuinely curious. Eddie shakes his head, his lips downturned slightly.  

“No, just you. I don’t really make a habit of this, if I’m being honest,” He confesses. You’re genuinely shocked by that. Not only is he insanely talented both on stage and in bed, he’s also one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever had the privilege of laying your eyes on.  

“What’s so different about me, then?” Now you are really curious. Eddie shrugs. 

“Well, Y/BFF/N has been talking you up ever since she told us all about you, so that helped. And Gareth seems to think you’re a pretty decent person...” He looks at you pointedly, “But what really sealed the deal was the look on your face from the stage. It was one of the best reactions to me that I think I've ever seen. You came here tonight, not thinking you’d really have a good time, and then you just let yourself get lost in it. It was... intriguing. More than that, really. It was kind of magical.” You cast your eyes downward, a blush creeping onto your face as you smile sweetly.  

“Oh,” You breathe, feeling prettier than you have in a long time. Eddie offers you a hand, and you take it as he helps you to your feet, not letting go as he opens the door for you. You start walking toward the doorway, but he stops you, pulling you back to him and walking you backward until your back hits the cool metal door. His free hand finds your face, pushing the hair away before leaning down to kiss you, deep and slow.  

“How about Friday night? I’ll pick you up at 7,” He suggests as he pulls away, forehead resting on yours. You nod, heart thumping in your throat. 

“Yeah... It’s a date.” You open your eyes to see that beautiful boyish smile again, and he kisses you once more, just a gentle peck on the lips. 

“Okay, then,” And with that, he leads you back out to the living room. You blush wildly as people take notice, a couple of them whooping as you and Eddie sit back down on the couch, except now, he doesn’t let you sit at the other end, like before. He pulls you close, having your head rest against his shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the couch.  

The rest of the night is spent talking and laughing with the band, Eddie deflecting every playful jab that comes your way about the activities in the back room. And when it comes time to leave, he kisses you again sweetly before you part ways. “I’ll see you Friday,” He promises. 

“Friday, yeah,” Your best friend starts tugging at your arm, but you don’t look away from him until you have to, giving a small wave as you start your way out of the venue. 

“Soooo,” Your best friend asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you as you make your way to the parking lot. “You reaaaally liked it then?” You laugh, hitting her on the arm playfully. But still, you nod, remembering the feelings, the sounds, the sensations.  

“Yeah, I really, really did.” You beam at her widely as she gives a whoop in excitement. You get into her car to go home, closing the door as you find your seat. As you buckle in your seatbelt, you hear your phone ding, and so you look to see a new number texting you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you open the message.  

“Can’t stop thinking about you. Mind if we move our date up to tomorrow?” Your breath hitches in your throat as you type out your reply. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” 

[hippolotamus]

So this is 39...

I was gonna do one of those X amount of things I've learned by age whatever, but 39 is a lot of things and tbh I'm not sure if I’ve learned that many (as some of you would undoubtedly agree). So, in true Hippo fashion, please accept this list of random assorted things I've picked up like shiny trinkets/facts I've come to accept through the years.

Believe it or not you're worth the effort, love and care you try to give everyone else but don't think you deserve.

Usually the more I've tried to fit in and be like everyone else, the more unhappy I've been. Let your freak flag fly and see who sticks around in your blanket fort.

Legos, coloring, stuffies, swing sets, daydreaming and other ‘childish pursuits’ are not, in fact, just for kids.

when given the opportunity, a solo car concert is a solid choice

If you're constantly putting yourself in boxes for the benefit of someone else... honestly, what's the point?

Find at least one person you can drop the mask with and be fully, authentically you.

Groups break up, accidents and weather happen... just go to the concert/show/exhibit if you wanna instead of waiting for ‘next time’.

nobody has their shit figured out (especially anyone acting like they do). we are literally all out here just wingin' it.

Some of the best life advice comes from fictional characters

Nobody cares. Nobody is thinking about you the way you're thinking about you. - Alexis Rose

Life isn't meant to be lived in moderation. We only get one chance at this... What's the point of living if you're just going to keep yourself locked away from ever experiencing life? - Avi Mulvaney

Make sure you’re following your heart - Carla Price

You’re gonna be okay, kid - Christopher Diaz

just because you didn’t die, doesn’t mean you’re actually living

even if you think you’re ‘too young’ for something, i assure you you’re not

i love you isn't reserved for family and/or romantic partners.

Platonic soulmates are a thing and they do exist

Dates with yourself are 100% necessary and sometimes the best ones

there is zero deadline or requirement to find a romantic partner, get married, have kids, buy a house, etc...

Sexual and Romantic preferences are fluid. It's OK if you change your mind or didn't 'figure it out' until your 20s, 30s, 40s or beyond.

You're complete as you are. Without the degree, the partner, the [current arbitrary standard]

Cliche as hell but life doesn’t end because you didn’t get the job/house/partner. Odds are good it’s the best thing that could have happened and you’ll be delighted it did.

Blood may be thicker than water but Found Family, the Family We Choose, is often the best family

Shared genetics doesn't demand your unwavering loyalty

I'm human and I fuck up. I make the wrong choice, say the wrong thing, don’t say anything or say too much. Way more than I want to, and often in the name of trying to keep the peace.

Do you write, paint, draw, some other variety of art? Congratulations 🥳 you’re an author/artist. A real one. Yes, you!

As such (and I will die on this hill) you don’t owe anything to anyone. Not the fic, the next chapter, the snippet, the gif set, etc. Your works are not the price of membership to fandom.

Missing someone and being glad they’re not in your life anymore aren’t mutually exclusive concepts.

You’re more than enough, but not too much. Never too much. I promise.

headpats & forehead kisses 💞🦛

[pedgito]

Cute prompt idea: Vamp!Eddie having a soft spot for paranormal investigator! reader (can be gn! or open to other pronouns)

Also lovely writing! 😍

author’s note: uh, this was meant to be short but y’all know how that goes with me. it took on a life of it’s own and i hope it isn’t completely off track from what you were requesting.

cw: sfw, vampire!eddie, gn!reader, all types of paranormal creatures exist, gang is basically monster hunters, dad!hopper vibes, eddie is just sweet and curious, mentions of injury/blood, fighting off ghouls and use of weapons, blood drinking (not how you think), light/silver still effect vampires, this is just super cute and a break from my smut momentarily

word count: 4k

A normal work shift consisted of coming in, grabbing your assignment for the night, grabbing your gear, and heading on your way to whatever undisclosed location was sealed inside the folder. It was an easy routine to fall into; despite how dangerous the job actually was, you were good at, great even.

It’s part of the reason why Hopper chose you to train the new recruits—that and Dustin couldn’t be trusted with the new ones, he was incredibly skilled at scaring them away within the first few hours and it quickly turned into a problem. Hopper needed staff and staff didn’t exist whenever Dustin was training so, the responsibility fell on you.

“I’ve got a new one for you tonight,” He announces from the moment your foot crosses the threshold, his wide shoulder and head peeking out of his office door, “he should be here any minute.”

“You’re kidding?” You ask with a reasonable amount of disbelief, having only finished training someone last week. “I just finished up with Wheeler.”

“And he’s already doing great,” Hopper points out, “I just sent him off on his first solo and he’s loving it—says he learned a lot from you.”

You really hated being good at your job and loving it just as much—it meant that you were more inclined to feel obligated when asked to do things, like training another new employee for back to back weeks, which was a tedious enough task in itself.

“I really deserve a vacation,” You tell him, “or a raise—even a thank you would be great.”

“You know how much I appreciate you, kid.” Hopper says.

And you do, he’s always treated you like family from the beginning and that’s never changed. You always had a place to call home with him.

You sigh, loud and dramatic, “Okay—well, is there anything I should know?”

Hopper’s face changes slightly, contemplating his next words.

“Come here,” He nods toward the interior of his office, “you’ll probably want to take a look at his file.”

The red flags shot off in your mind immediately, but your feet moved for you, following him into his office, letting him slip the Manila file into your hands as you sifted through.

“Edward Munson,” You test the name on your tongue, glancing down to see the preferred shortened version of his first name, “—oh, Eddie. Eddie Munson? Am I saying that right?”

Hopper nods, pointing toward the bottom of the file, a portion that was usually left blank. It’s only been filled one other time, long before you, and it wasn’t something that Hopper took on lightly. There had to be a reason.

Your eyes widen, shoving the file back at him quickly, as if you’d been burned. “A vampire?” You say seethingly, “Have you lost your mind?”

“Look—the kid means well.” Hopper tells you, “I know his uncle—the boy has a good head on his shoulders; just a lot of unfortunate circumstances he’s been involved in. I told him I’d do him a favor—we can at least try it out.”

“And after last time?”

“It’s the last time I ever hire a werewolf during the week of a full moon,” Hopper admits his wrongdoing, but lowers his voice to level with you, “—just give it a chance, for me?”

“You’re lucky I don’t hate you.” You say begrudgingly, eyes narrowing. You pull at your bag, the weight of it slipping off your shoulders. “Is that all?”

“Don’t bring it up.” Hopper warns, “Kid gets real sensitive about sometimes. He’ll talk about it if he wants to.”

“You know I’m dealing with ghouls tonight, right?” You tell him, feeling that he should know, considering how much he despises the supernatural beings. “The ones out at the cemetery that we’ve been trying to contain for weeks.”

“Sounds like fun,” He grimaces, “seems like you’ll both be getting a real hands-on experience.”

You smile smugly, “Don’t worry, Hop—I’ll make sure to bring you back a souvenir.”

He sips at his coffee, fluffy mustaches covering his top lip, “It better be a goddamn keychain and not another severed hand.”

You shrug indifferently, “I’ll surprise you.”

“And I’ll put you on cleanup duty for a month.”

It was an empty threat. He’d never be able to go through with it, he relied on you far too much.

Eddie is entirely too curious and touches everything, like those annoying kids with sticky fingers that love to find their way into everyone’s business. He asks too many questions, he talks far too often, and you almost forget that giant blinking red sign in your head that keeps screaming ‘Vampire’—nothing about him gives it away.

Well, maybe the outfit, the hair—but definitely not the personality. The ones you’ve met were always brooding, pensive, dealing with ventures of guilt and trauma. Eddie was brand new, practically a baby, fresh-face and untouched.

You smack at his hand with the tip of your flashlight, clinking against the dense metal of his rings. His eyebrows furrow, making a small noise of disapproval as he pulls his hand back.

“Stop touching everything.” You warn him, sorting through the gear in the back of your van, gathering the supplies you needed on your belt and vest, watching on as he struggled with his own. “Some of this stuff is used for lethal force.”

“You think they’d make these things a little more practical.” Eddie complains, pulling desperately at the clips, trying to force them to connect around his chest.

“It’s because you grabbed the smallest size.” You deadpan, dropping what you were doing to assist him, yanking at the clips until they click together, watching as his back straightened in discomfort.

“Well, good thing I don’t need to breathe,” Eddie comments idly, pulling a soft laugh from your chest. You weren’t sure why you were expecting him to be secretive about it. He was far too giddy to hide it, he was being himself.

“We can switch.” You offer, already pulling at your vest before he answers, watching as he silently unclipped his own in the process. You switch without a word, and the fit is more comfortable, for him, at least. “Is that better?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

It was only one minor inconvenience in the giant problem that was your life; you’d survive. You shoved the supplies into the vest, handing Eddie a flashlight before taking one for yourself.

“I don’t need one,” Eddie tells you, holding the flashlight up with a loose grip, “I can see fine.”

You pointedly shove it back toward his chest, “It’s not for you,” You say flippantly, “just take the damn flashlight.”

Eddie eyes you for a moment, trying to decipher you. He’d always been good at reading people, but you were giving him a harder time than he’d expected.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, clicking the flashlight a few times, light shining in your eyes obnoxiously, “—oh shit, I-“

You sigh through your nose deeply, eyes falling shut to calm yourself.

You speak slowly, face scrunching up in focus, “I’m begging you. Please stop.”

Eddie sets the flashlight down carefully, hands crossed in front of him as he stands back, forcing his curious hands to halt.

“When we get in there I need you to listen to me,” You tell him, trying to emphasize the severity as much as possible, “you might not be able to die so easily, but I can.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

For some reason, you believe him—but his giant, doe eyes have seen nothing yet; they’re unscarred to the wonders of things that go bump in the night, aside from himself. There’s too many things discovered and undiscovered, and even you didn’t know everything. But, the job was serious—and you knew he’d take it as such.

“Let’s hope so.”

The walk to the cemetery is long and quiet, for the most part, aside from the few attempts at small talk that Eddie tries.

“So, how often do you deal with—“ Eddie pauses, thinking of the name, the word slipping his mind.

He takes too long, “Ghouls?” You finish for him.

Eddie nods, curls bouncing against his shoulders. He smiles a lot, too—it’s only slightly alarming because his fingers are so prominent and he doesn’t try to hide them.

“Not often—only once a year, usually,” You tell him, “and they don’t always show up so close to Hawkins, but we’ve been tracking them for a while and they’re supposed to feed tonight.”

Eddie nods slowly, following your words carefully.

“They eat the dead.” You explain, earning an odd look from Eddie, it’s almost poetic. “Don’t worry—you’re safe. Besides,” You stick up the flashlight, shining the light back in his face, “I’ll be there to defend your honor.”

Eddie winces, shoving the light away gently. He blinks rapidly, like he’s struggling to see and you realize your mistake, quickly shoving the flashlight back into its secured spot on your vest.

“Shit—“ You start to apologize, “I didn’t mean to hurt you with that. Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie lies, rubbing at his irritated eyes, “just burns a little—I’ll be okay.”

You feel bad and you hate it, because it feels like every moral in your body is turning against itself. In his defense, he was just as much a capable person as you, albeit some differences—and it wasn’t unusual for people like his kind to meld into and function in society to some capacity. It was new to the world, but it worked—he wasn’t the first vampire you’ve met, he wouldn’t be the last—but they usually ended up on the other end of spike after trying to kill you, so yes, things were a little different.

You take a step, slipping on the crack in the concrete as you’re lost in thought, nearly tumbling toward certain death, but Eddie catches you, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other grilled tightly on your bicep, pulling you upright and against him.

“Are you sure you should be out right now?” Eddie asks, “You seem distracted.”

You nod gently, not asking him to let go, his hands squeezing you reassuringly, just a soft touch that would go unnoticed if you weren’t so hyper aware of his hands on you, freezing cold to the touch.

“It’s a lot to deal with in one night,” You admit honestly, “This is more high risk than most cases and Hopper wanted me to train you—it’s literally your first, plus you’re a—“

“You can say it.” Eddie says, head tilting to meet yours as you look up at him. “You don’t have to feel weird about it.”

“I kill people like you,” You say softly, “all the time.”

“I’m sure they deserve it, though,” He offers, which couldn’t be truer, “I don’t want to hurt people—or you, at least.”

You smile awkwardly, eyes wandering to his lingering hands.

“You can let me go now.”

Eddie pulls away quickly, hands settling at his side.

“My bad,” He excuses, “—are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod quickly, walking the rest of the path until you meet the gate closing off the cemetery, pulling at the chain wrapped around the only entrance you have to get inside.

“Did you grab the bolt cutters like I asked?” You turn to Eddie, catching the telling and guilty look on his face as soon as your eyes fall on him. “Eddie, come on—“

“I got it, I got it,” He says defensively, nudging you out of the way to grasp the chain in his hand, but the moment he touches the chain he’s pulling back with a shout of pain, “—fuck, are you kidding me?”

“You didn’t think that one through, did you?” You ask, pulling at the tightly bound chain. Eddie’s face falls, staring down at his wounded hands, healing slowly in front of you. “Works well, doesn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie scoffs, hissing slightly at your touch, hands tracing over the slowly healing scar on his palm, “I’ve never—I didn’t think that was real.”

“Silver is pretty effective,” You tell him, his skin now fully healed as you let go, placing his hands back at his side, “it can take down a full grown man, if needed.”

“Good to know,” Eddie laughs weakly, balling his hands into fists a few times, testing that his skin was back to normal, “—so how are we getting in?”

“You forget the bolt cutters—figure it out.” You tell him. It was one of the best ways to teach, you’ve learned, allowing them to problem solve in situations that seemed impossible; it always spurred the best ideas.

“Well, I could turn into my bat form and fly over the gate.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You ask with wide eyes, “Is that actually a thing? I thought it was a myth.”

“You’re so gullible.” Eddie laughs, pointing toward the top of the gate where a few spikes had been worn down and left a convenient opening, “We’re climbing, right?”

“Bingo.” You smile, “You gotta lose the jacket, though. I’m not ruining mine.”

Eddie mumbles begrudgingly, shifting off his vest to reach his jacket, tossing the thick piece of clothing at you. You toss the jacket over the edge, pulling until it sufficiently covers the sharp edges.

“Can you do it?” Eddie asks, nodding toward the ledge, hands poised to help lift you. You shove him away, assuring him you’re fine. You push off with your feet, barely missing the edge—you sigh, take a breath, and jump once more. Eddie stifles a quiet laugh beside you, knowing that your pride was too high to ask now that you already denied his help. He’s silent when his hands grasp your hips, careful as he squeezes and lifts you up. You freeze, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he pushes you far enough to where you can grab the ledge, pulling and throwing yourself over with a little less grace that you intend, flustered by how easy he was able to lift you up.

Eddie climbs the gate in two movements, a large leap as he grabs the ledge and flips over with practiced precision. You’ve never seen anything like it before, his feet hitting the ground simultaneously. You huff in annoyance, watching as he yanks his jacket down, shifting his hand through the gate to grab at his vest, the biggest, smuggest smile on his face.

“Show off,” You remark, earning another soft laugh from him, “just hurry up.”

You weren’t sure what to expect walking into the nest, but it’s eerily silent, like Hopper got it wrong and they hadn’t migrated here for the winter, but then you’re being blindsided, thrown off to your side and away from Eddie—leaving him to handle the hoard of them blindly, your body colliding with the stone buried in the ground, collapsing weakly onto the grass.

“What do I do?” Eddie panics, pulling the large machete from his belt, swinging wildly in an attempt to fend them off, your vision blurry as you search for him, focusing on his voice.

“Their heads,” You shouts, clutching your side to dull the steering pain, hand wetting with what you can only assume is blood, shirt tacky and damp as it stuck to your skin, “cut off their heads!”

There’s a loud commotion, screaming from Eddie and the hoard of ghouls, you can’t focus, the pain in your side is more overwhelming than anything you’ve felt. You close your eyes, attempting to breath through the pain—you hear the cracking of foliage behind you, an all too familiar feeling creeping up your spine as the creature leaps over your back, ghastly and horribly smelling, you push and fight, trying to keep it as constrained as you can while you search for your knife, only realizing once you find it that it’s the source of your pain, lodge in your side, just under the skin. It couldn’t have been more of a freak accident, somehow managing to miss anything fatal, but the pain was still unbearable.

“Eddie—help, please,” You plead in a moment of vulnerability, teeth gritting in pain as you groaned, using every ounce of strength to fight the thing off, only finding relief when the ghoul is being pulled off of your forcefully, shoved on the ground as Eddie shoved the machete through its skull, the disgusting squelch making your stomach turn, “—thank you.” You force out through a weak breath, clutching your side as you try to rise to your knees, only to be subdued by Eddie, gently forced back down.

“Don’t move,” He warns, hands hovering over your side, your own hands stained in blood, “you’re bleeding too much.”

“I’m sorry,” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but it feels right in the moment, given the circumstance, “I can wrap myself up—or try—I don’t want it to bother—bother you.”

You can see his pupils dilate larger, eyes focused on the blood pooling against the ground, but aside from that, he’s calm. It’s unlike any other interaction you’ve had with someone of his mind—but Eddie had contradicted most of what you knew, even in the small amount of time you’ve interacted.

“I can help you,” Eddie suggested, “but only if you’re okay with it.”

Your eyes narrow, urging him to continue.

“I guess you’re unfamiliar with how healing works,” Eddie assumes, pressing his hand firmly to add pressure to your wound. He can hear the blood flowing through your body, the sound rushing through his ears, the smell invading his nose—normally he’d jump at the first hint of blood, feed on whatever unfortunate stranger was around at night, but there was nothing like this—he didn’t want to hurt you at all, he wanted to fix you, help you—he’s only ever done it once and he knows it works, but the process is…intimate, “are you?”

You shake your head weakly.

“My blood, it’ll heal you.” Eddie explains, “but you have to…”

He can’t say the words, seeing the way your face creases, a sudden realization hitting you. “No—no way.”

“It’s safe, I promise”. Eddie says, “But, we can always call Hopper—“

“No, no!” You stammer, shaking your hand out in disapproval, the movement makes you wince, your hand clasping over his own where it’s pressed to your side, the sharp metal of the knife pressing sharply into your side. “God—I need to take it out.”

“If I take it out, you’re going to bleed even more,” Eddie explains, “Look—I get how weird it is—I do, but I promise it’s safe. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’re not sure why you trust him so easily—maybe it’s his eyes, so innocent and pure, like there wasn’t a lie he could tell.

“Do it,” You say quickly, tired of lingering on the thought, “just do it.”

Rip the bandaid off, stop the pain.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, taken back by your sudden agreement.

You nod furiously, the pain and blood loss starting to take toll, feeling yourself go lightheaded and slumped, moaning softly.

You watch as Eddie pulls his sleeve back, the sharp point of his teeth digging into his wrist, carefully angling his arm as he pulls away, leading it toward your mouth slowly. You can see the blood seeping out—his other hand coming to cup the back of your head gently, tilting it back comfortably until your lips meet his skin.

“Slowly,” Eddie intructs, “just suck—but be careful.”

Your brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed to suck gently—you’re not sure what you’re expecting, but it’s not the taste that hits your tongue initially; sweet and tangible, like a drug that would easily become addicting. It’s not bitter, or copper-tasting, and it throws you for a loop. It’s fuzzy, the feeling as it flows down your throat, your free hand comes to wrap around his wrist, eyes squeezing shut as you sucked harder, whining at the sensation, a type of pleasure you’ve never felt before.

“Hey, hey,” His voice is soft, but stern, “slow down—you don’t need that much.”

You pull back with a heat to your face, feeling embarrassed. Eddie releases the back of your hand, pulling quickly at the knife—you are numb to the pain, body already trying to heal itself as he throws the knife to the ground, letting it clammer loudly against the concrete.

“That was intense.” You admit honestly, letting Eddie wipe the stray string of blood away with his thumb, using the pad of his sleeve to wipe your mouth clean. It only makes the embarrassment worse.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks curiously.

“Feels—fuzzy, tingly, I guess.” You tell him, “Like a high, maybe?”

Eddie makes a subtle face of surprise, laughing quietly at your description. “Well, looks like you’re all good now—like it never happened.”

“I’m not gonna end up turning in my sleep, am I?” You ask jokingly, letting Eddie pull you to your feet slowly.

“No,” He chuckles, “I meant what I said. I wouldn’t try to trick you. But—you might feel weird for a day or two, it’ll fade.”

“Oh—okay,” You nod, glancing around at the mess of bodies lying about, left for you both to clean up. “Well, we should probably finish up the job—Hopper is probably wondering where we’re at already.”

“Are you going to tell him—“

“No.” You respond immediately. “No one needs to know about it—or that I got hurt. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods in understanding, releasing you when he thinks you’re stable enough, “our secret—got it.”

You smile softly and Eddie does too, you’ve never felt more nervous.

When you finally drive back, it’s at the peak of early morning, sun still down and most of everyone has gone aside from Hopper, who practically lived at the place—Eddie grabbed most of the gear for you, lugging it in his arms as you followed closely behind.

“Looks like you two had a night,” He comments, stepping out of his office to watch your two frazzled, worn out faces walk down the hall, “how’d he do?”

“He’s alright,” You shrug and Eddie laughs to himself, continuing down the hall as Hopper stops you in your tracks, “—what?”

“You alright, kid?” He asks, “I know how rough ghouls are—you don’t have to play it down.”

You shake your head, “No, we’re good—he’s really curious but…he’s got potential.” You tilt your head slightly, watching down the hallway as Eddie turns the corner, “If you want to pair him up with anyone—it can be me, he’s not as bad as I hoped for.”

“Told you,” He teases, poking your arm gently. “—must’ve really had an effect on you, though.”

You shrug, “Someone’s gotta control the chaos,” You say, “and sticking him with Dustin is an accident waiting to happen.”

Eddie laughs quietly down the hall, unbeknownst to you as he listens in on your conversation with Hopper.

“Alright, if you say so.” Hopper relents, hands held up in defeat.

You weren’t sure how or why, but Eddie had quickly snuck himself into the soft spot of your heart, your thoughts—and maybe it was the blood, or the general effect that Eddie had on people, but you were fine with that.

“Looks like I’m out of here for the night,” Eddie comments, sneaking up on you two easily, enjoying the startled looks on your face, he smiles, “—made a good impression, I hope.”

“You’ll survive another day.” You tell him snarkily, “I guess.”

“Good—now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a coffin waiting for me at home—“

“Okay—now you’re just gloating.” You say tiredly, turning on your heels with a quick wave to Hopper, a smug smile written all over his face.

“I’m not joking.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Is that a challenge?”

You smile, catching his bashful grin as you shake your head at his terrible flirting. You were game, fortunately for him.

“Yeah, it is.”