#i am genuinely unwell about them

[coloursflyaway]

I've been leaving comments on your fic because they're just wonderful & really hoping your inbox isn't flooded with prompts already because I'm longing for more "oh no the feelings are there all along" Edwin:

Nothing really changed between them since his second time in Hell, and Edwin wouldn't have it any other way. Except, now he's not sure how he used to keep his thoughts intact with Charles being around and... being Charles.

I love your character studies! They're so adorable, the way you write them.

Hi and thank you so much for the prompt, I had a ton of fun with it! ♥

The Most Tender Place In My Heart

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.200

Read on AO3

There is something said about the concept of hindsight, only that Edwin isn’t sure if it’s something good, per se. Because now that he knows what he feels for Charles, it’s like his brain is working overtime just to make sure that he is, in fact, in love with Charles, which is slightly ridiculous, since it only takes a single look for Edwin to confirm it again and again and again. It’s the way his heart flutters, his eyes get stuck on one of Charles’ features, his fingertips aching for the warm buzz touching Charles grants him. And yet, in those quiet moments between cases, or sometimes deep at night when they are both busy with their own research, Edwin’s mind wanders through the three decades they have known each other, searching and finding those moments in which Edwin could have known he was in love with Charles, had he ever allowed himself to consider the possibility.

Edwin goes down a trip down memory lane, and Charles needs someone to spell it out to him that he is in love.

There is something said about the concept of hindsight, only that Edwin isn’t sure if it’s something good, per se.

Because now that he knows what he feels for Charles, it’s like his brain is working overtime just to make sure that he is, in fact, in love with Charles, which is slightly ridiculous, since it only takes a single look for Edwin to confirm it again and again and again. It’s the way his heart flutters, his eyes get stuck on one of Charles’ features, his fingertips aching for the warm buzz touching Charles grants him. And yet, in those quiet moments between cases, or sometimes deep at night when they are both busy with their own research, Edwin’s mind wanders through the three decades they have known each other, searching and finding those moments in which Edwin could have known he was in love with Charles, had he ever allowed himself to consider the possibility.

It’s pointless, it’s quite distracting, and most importantly, Charles seems to be catching up on the fact that something is happening to Edwin, because it keeps happening.

Since, apparently, there is a plethora of instances for his treacherous brain to choose from.

It is the year 2002 and they are running through an abandoned school, the ghost of an enraged headmistress on their heels, whose spirit had gotten stuck to the metal ruler she is still brandishing. The ruler is the problem; it’s made of iron and it’s actually quite interesting that it doesn’t seem to hurt her at all, but burnt like hellfire when it had touched Edwin’s arm.

So, they are running to find somewhere to regroup and Charles is laughing. Why, Edwin isn’t quite sure, but there is no time to figure it out, at least not until Charles drags him into a supply closet, closing the door behind them. They’re very close like this, Edwin realises and isn’t sure why that seems to matter so much. It’s not like they haven’t been close before. And yet, his hands burn almost like he is touching iron, only pleasantly this time, as do his cheeks when Charles looks at him.

“Why are you laughing?”, he hisses to distract himself from the sensation; there is something wrong with it, but Edwin isn’t certain what. Hopefully it is no side effect from the iron before. “I fail to see anything funny about this!”

Charles grins at him and although they were just being chased by one of the few things that can cause them physical harm, he looks happy, he looks fond. Of Edwin. And that, at least, makes Edwin feel a bit better.

“It’s nothing”, Charles replies, although that is obviously untrue, because he is still smiling, “’s just that it reminds me of being in school so much. I used to spend quite some time running away from teachers back then. Only that this is better, of course. No detention, no letters to my parents and my best mate with me.”

And he reaches up to grasp Edwin’s upper arm, something he has started doing about ten years ago, and Edwin inexplicably feels like shivering, feels like pressing closer.

“Oi, Edwin!”, Charles calls out to him, looking amused when Edwin’s eyes focus back on him. “Where did you go?”

He must have spaced out, which is embarrassing, but, well. It’s the same school.

“We have been here before”, he replies weakly and Charles shakes his head, still fond of him, even after all these years.

“I know, that’s what I’ve been telling Crystal about”, he tells Edwin, gesturing towards Crystal, who is standing a few metres away, looking at a bulletin board of old, outdated flyers. “Is that what’s been happening to you, getting lost in old memories? Because I know you’re the brains of the operation, but I do notice these things.”

For a second, Edwin wants to deny it, but then again, he never made a habit out of lying to Charles and doesn’t want to start with it now. And in the end, it’s just memories they are talking about, harmless and innocent and in the end, also ones that Charles and he share.

So, he nods, and Charles gives him a smile, which almost feels like a reward.

“That’s cool”, Charles replies, although Edwin isn’t sure if agrees with the statement. “Tell me about it next time, yeah? Only if you want to, of course. But I’d really like to hear it.”

It is the year 1989, they have only known each other for a few weeks, and Charles pulls him into the first hug they ever share. He’s excited, because he has navigated them through the mirror successfully, something that had ended in disaster every other time, and Edwin has hardly even stepped through it when Charles’ arms are around him, dragging him close. He feels solid against Edwin’s chest, a faint buzz spreading across where they are touching, and Edwin doesn’t know how to react, because he hasn’t been touched like this – kindly, like he matters, with the intent to give comfort, not pain – in so long, he has quite forgotten what to do.

“Finally did it”, Charles says next to his ear, and pulls him closer still. He seems quite oblivious to the fact that Edwin is just standing there, and that’s good, because Edwin doesn’t think he could move if he tried to. It feels strange, being in Charles’ arms, makes him tingle, become overly aware of just where Charles’ arms are resting on his back, where his chin is digging into Edwin’s shoulder.

Maybe, he thinks, and it makes him giddy, like this is something forbidden, something sweet, he’ll be able to return the embrace the next time.

He considers it for far too long, especially because in the end, the decision turns out to be quite easy, based on one thing alone: Charles had asked for it.

They are back at the agency, Charles reorganising his backpack, and Edwin looks up at him from his book, and the words just tumble out, before he can stop them. “Do you remember the first time we hugged?”, he asks, and Charles makes a little sound, pulling their emergency bone saw from his backpack before looking over at Edwin.

“Yeah, sure. You were a little stiff back then, but I still remember how happy I was because you were so solid. I think you were the first thing I felt after I died, like, really felt”, he replies, then pauses for a moment so he can turn to face Edwin fully. “Why are you asking?”

If he still physically could, Edwin would be blushing, like this, he just feels flustered, phantom heat spreading down his throat, through his limbs until it touches his fingertips. “Ah”, he starts, rather unintelligently, “you were asking about the memories, the ones that distract me occasionally. You wanted me to tell you about them.”

Charles nods slowly, but his brows are furrowed like he is trying to put together a puzzle he doesn’t have all the pieces for yet. Edwin would very much prefer if he never found the missing ones. “Why that one?”, he eventually asks, and that’s the rest of the pieces, right there.

Of course, he could lie by omission, or just pretend he does not know the answer, but in the end, Charles will figure it out anyway. He is a detective after all. So instead, Edwin takes a deep breath he doesn’t need and rips the band aid off with one single sentence, even if it stings.

“Because I am fairly certain that I harboured some kind of romantic feeling for you even back then, only that I did not know how to recognise it.”

Silence stretches between them, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, and even if Edwin can feel the nervousness seep into the cracks of his mind as it continues, he says nothing; Charles deserves the time he needs to digest this.

So, he waits, and eventually, Charles’ eyes clear and he smiles at Edwin, a small, soft, tender curve of his lips that shouldn’t mean as much as it does.

“Thank you for telling me”, he says, and Edwin knows that he means it by the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. “And, if you want to, I’d like to hear the next one, too.”

It is the year 2017 and their hands brush together when they are standing in front of a very angry sorcerer, who has been shouting at them for the better part of ten minutes. Usually, it would pose little problem, but the reason they are standing here is that they have been summoned; the circle and the runes around them the only things keeping them here. The sorcerer will get sloppy, Edwin knows that, and he will come too close and Charles will hit him with his cricket bat, use his body to wipe away the runes, but until then, they are stuck here.

And their hands brush together, which they have done a thousand times before, only that now, Charles hooks his little finger around Edwin’s, gives it a little squeeze. It’s made to soothe him, and it does, and if Edwin thinks about it for the rest of the week, he refuses to wonder why.

“Back in the late 2010s”, he tells Charles on a case, Crystal just out of earshot. “You nearly took my hand when we had been summoned by one of those idiotic wizards and I thought about it for days. I am fairly certain I was in love with you back then, too.”

Charles looks over to him from where he is standing, eyes widening for a second, before they go soft once more. “I remember that, I think”, Charles says, and maybe they aren’t remembering the same sorcerer, the same situation, but that hardly matters. “Thank you for telling me.”

And later, much later, Charles takes his hand and intertwines their fingers, and it’s the same rush, the same buzz; Edwin thinks about it for the rest of the week and doesn’t pretend otherwise.

It is the year 1992 and they have just established the agency, found a psychic who would let them rent out the top floor for the cheap price of keeping an eye on his offspring after he had passed on.

“You know, this is pretty brills”, Charles says, laying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling, as if it was the open sky. “I never thought much about being dead, but so far, it’s been fantastic.”

“You think so?”, Edwin asks, sitting down next to his still-new friend. He won’t lie down, not with all the dust, the cobwebs, but he still wants to be closer to Charles if possible. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you missed your life.”

“Nah, it’s all good”, Charles tells him, a lopsided smile on his plush lips and even if Edwin suspects that the statement won’t be true forever, in every situation, it is now. “Nowhere I’d rather be here, is there? Starting a detective agency with my best mate. Don’t you agree?”

He does, only that he suspects that, unlike for Charles, it’s an answer that won’t change again.

“Do you remember when we first started the agency?”, Edwin asks and Charles laughs, maybe for good reason. “Of course. How could I ever forget that?”

He sits down next to Edwin on the sofa, and his eyes are so kind, so warm that Edwin feels like he might fall in love with him all over again. “I wish I had lain down with you on the floor back then, on our first night here”, he tells Charles, and resists the urge to reach out and put a hand on his thigh, his knee, any part of his body he could reach.

“No, you don’t”, Charles answers, and there is still laughter in his voice, making it even more lovely. “You would have been impossible about it after, with all the dust and the dirt.”

“They can’t get dirty, they’re spectral”, Edwin protests, but Charles just shakes his head.

“It would have felt like it though, wouldn’t it? You would have known it and you would have been insufferable about it”, he says and he is right and knows it too. “Actually, maybe you should have laid down with me, it would have been pretty funny.”

And he laughs and Edwin joins in, and finally does reach out and rests his hand on Charles’ ankle, and revels in how right it feels.

It is the year 2011, they are in Florence to investigate a statue that is rumoured to start moving at night, a sure sign of some kind of haunting, and it’s night, the stars illuminating the sky like little pinpricks.

And Edwin looks over at Charles to say something, only for the words to die right there on his lips, because Charles looks so beautiful in the dim light. Almost ethereal, the deep shadows making his cheekbones sharper, his lashes darker, the quirk of his lips more pronounced.

Appreciating the human form is important, no matter the gender, Edwin tries to rationalise it later, but for weeks, there is something like apprehension whenever he looks over at his best friend.

They are walking through Norwich, trying to find an heirloom, and the sunlight catches the silver necklace Charles is wearing, making Edwin think of stars and the night sky and the brightness of his leash spells, only that this is one he wears happily, proudly.

“One time in Florence, you looked so beautiful it would have taken my breath away, if I had still been breathing”, he tells Charles, and it shouldn’t be so easy to do it. But Charles just looks at him, warmth and affection and understanding painted across his features in bold, impossibly to miss strokes, and Edwin wonders how it could ever be difficult instead.

“We haven’t been in Florence in ages”, Charles says, and Edwin nods.

“I remember it anyway”, he answers although Charles hasn’t even phrased the question yet, and he thinks it will stay at just that, but Charles hums, stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“You know”, he tells Edwin after a few moments, and he doesn’t sound reluctant, just like he is putting a thought into words for the first time, “sometimes, usually when it is rather late, I look over at you and I don’t want to look away again.”

And he smiles at Edwin, like it is nothing, nothing at all.

It is the year 1999 and Charles brings a book back from his walk. He doesn’t go out on his own often, but sometimes when Edwin gets too focussed on his research, he leaves so he can walk the streets aimlessly. Sometimes, he goes to see a concert, occasionally visits a club, and when he gets back to the agency, he tells Edwin all about it without fail.

This time, however, Charles doesn’t say a word, only puts the book down in front of Edwin and waits for him to look up. When Edwin does, there is a strange, faraway look in his eyes that Edwin doesn’t like at all.

“What is the matter?”, he asks, and then, when Charles does not reply, adds, “Did something happen?”

“I realised that I will be dead for a decade next week”, Charles finally answers, but the expression doesn’t change; Edwin wants nothing more than to reach up and wipe it from his face with his thumbs.

“I know”, Edwin says. It is an anniversary he has never brought up but also never forgotten.

“That’s more than half as long as I was alive”, Charles continues and sounds brittle somehow, “Isn’t that strange?”

“Yes”, Edwin agrees.

“So, I thought”, Charles starts and then stops, pushes a hand through his hair and leaves it mussed. “I thought, maybe you could read to me? It made me feel better back then, and I’m not quite sure how I feel now.”

And Edwin looks down at the book in front of him; it’s a detective story. G. K. Chesterton, someone whose work Edwin knows quite well.

“Of course”, he says, and gets up to fulfil his promise, “Anything you need, Charles, anything at all.”

“Do you remember the tenth anniversary of your death?”, Edwin asks, a finger resting on the spine of that particular G. K. Chesterton novel. The Man Who Was Thursday, not a particular favourite of his, but now a novel that holds a special place in his heart.

“Sure”, Charles says from where he is sitting on their armchair, legs dangling over the side of it. “What of it?”

“I should have hugged you, that night when you asked me to read to you”, Edwin says and pulls the book from its shelf.

“I would have liked that”, Charles answers, but there is no judgement in his voice, just fondness. Like it is enough that Edwin knows that now. “You can hug me now, if you want to.”

He puts down the comic he is reading and holds out his arms; makes Edwin laugh until his chest doesn’t feel heavy with sorrow any longer, and feels so right in his arms when Edwin comes over and embraces him, no matter how awkward the angle, the book digging into their sides.

“I think”, Edwin mutters into the space between Charles’s shoulder and neck just before he pulls away once more, “that if I had let myself back then, I would have liked it, too.”

It is the year 2004 and Charles grasps his arm when they are walking down the street, which feels like a luxury after spending two weeks on a case that allowed them hardly any moment of rest.

“Could we stop for a bit?”, Charles asks, and for a second, Edwin doesn’t know why he would want to, but then he hears the guitar playing, hears the girl’s voice ringing through the street. She’s a street musician and it’s close to Christmas so she is wearing a Santa hat as she sings, her fingers slowly turning blue from the cold.

And she’s pretty, but Edwin hardly notices, even if he fears that Charles does.

The tune sounds out of place, because it isn’t even close to December, yet the cafe Crystal drags them into is playing a carol. It isn’t the same on as it was back then, because this is not about fairytales and not about New York, but when Crystal leaves them at their table to get a drink, Edwin turns to Charles anyway.

“In 2004, you wanted to stop and listen to a singer on the street”, he tells him, words jumbled together by how quickly he is talking; he has to get this out before Crystal returns. As much as he likes her now, this is between Charles and he alone. “I was jealous because she was beautiful and you looked at her like you knew it.”

A moment passes, and then Charles laughs softly, reaches out to cover Edwin’s hand with his own where it is resting on the table. “Edwin, mate”, he says, and he sounds tender, loving, warm. “I’m sure she didn’t compare to you.”

It is the year 2006 and if he could still feel, the sun would be hot on his skin, warming up limbs that have forgotten the feeling. Like this, he only imagines it, and finds that the memory of sunshine feels the same as the memory of Charles smiling at him, Charles taking his hand as not to get lost in the dark, as Charles hugging him when he is happy, exhausted, relieved.

Edwin doesn’t try and imagine sunshine after that.

There is a single ray of sunlight coming through the window of their agency, illuminating a spot just right of Charles’ feet, and the memory hits Edwin so hard it would leave him gasping if he still breathed.

“You alright?”, Charles asks from where he is sitting and when he looks at Edwin, it really feels like sunshine, feels like warmth and a gentle breeze on a summer’s day. “Yes”, he answers and it’s true, because he’s finally basking in sunlight once more. “It’s just that I truly love you, Charles.”

“Love you, too”, Charles replies without missing a beat, a smile that feels like summer rain on Edwin’s skin.

He turns back to his book, and Edwin doesn’t expect more, doesn’t need more, but then, just a few seconds later, Charles looks up again. His brows are drawn together, like something is puzzling him, and Edwin, who was still watching, knows that whatever he will say will be important.

“Hey, so this might be a strange question, so if you don’t wanna answer it, that’s fine”, he says, and Edwin would tell him whatever he wanted to know. “But, like. How did you know you were in love with me?”

It’s not the question Edwin expected, it’s not a question he ever expected to answer, but Charles looks like he truly cares about his response, so Edwin swallows down the hint of panic rising in his throat.

“I had someone spell it out for me”, he says and thinks about Monty for a moment, his curiosity, his kind eyes and soft lips. “And as soon as I heard the words, I just knew they were true. Maybe that is why my mind keeps searching for all the times I could have known it before then.”

There is a pause in which Charles just watches him, then he gives Edwin a smile that looks strange on his lips, unfamiliar even after all the years they have known each other. “Thank you”, he says, and there is something in his voice too. “I really mean that. Thank you for trusting me.”

As if Edwin could do anything but.

It is the year 1995 and it’s so late it’s early again, and even though he doesn’t have a physical body, Edwin is still exhausted. They’re on a case and it’s just been dragging and dragging on without an end in sight, and no matter through how many books they go through, there seems to be no solution, no explanation, no way to stop the curse.

He’s all but swearing under his breath when he picks up another volume from the desk, thick and bound in dark linen. It’s the eighth one in a row and the letters are starting to blur in front of his eyes, but he has to make sense of this somehow; they cannot let the young man who hired them suffer any longer.

A grown escapes his lips, and a few moments later, there is a hand on his shoulder, another one gently closing the book in front of him. “I think that’s enough for today”, Charles says softly, and while the letters were hazy, his face is crystal clear.

“But-”, Edwin tries, but Charles just squeezes his shoulder and when he smiles down at Edwin, it feels like a benediction.

“We’ll continue tomorrow”, Charles tells him, and Edwin is powerless to do anything but nod.”For now, lets just go upstairs and watch the stars.”

London is spread out before them and it’s been decades since Edwin has truly missed feeling the wind against his skin, but he does so now as they settle back against the wall, Charles’ head tipped back to watch the night sky.

“I think I loved you even back in 1995”, Edwin tells him.

There is no response for a while, the silence not unpleasant, but unexpected. They have found a rhythm with these small confessions by now; Edwin will share a memory and Charles will give something back. It makes it easier for Edwin and he hopes, thinks, believes that it does the same for Charles.

Eventually, Charles turns his head, and his eyes are dark, unreadable, beautiful.

“I think I love you now”, he says, and for a few moments, Edwin doesn’t hear him.

“I know”, he answers when he does, and Charles smiles at him, fond and sweet, like he has missed Edwin for decades and only found him again.

“I don’t think you do”, he responds, unmoving, and something around them shifts; the stars grow brighter, the sky darker, the small corner of the roof they are sitting in smaller. “But I want you to.”

And he leans in and presses the softest, the sweetest, the most certain kiss to Edwin’s lips. It’s over before Edwin can react, but Charles stays close and watches his reaction, his gaze so intense it feels like a touch in its own right, a caress to Edwin’s skin.

“How…?”, he whispers into the space between them; it doesn’t feel real. How do you love me, he wants to ask, how did you fall in love with me,and how are you certain of it? And most importantly, how do you know it now, after so much time?

Charles seems to hear all of it in just one word, because he moves his hand so he can link their little fingers together, and replies, “I had someone spell it out for me, memory by memory.”

And kisses Edwin again.

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it's only natural to feel anger when somebody isn't "taking your advice" or listening to you about their mental health or what will help them. People want to help people, and the anger comes when you are perceiving somebody as not being receptive but...

It can be a selfish impulse to say that your opinion about their illness is the only thing they need. It isn't about you, even though the advice you give is given by you.

Nobody deserves to suffer, this is true. But, also, nobody deserves to be forced to do things that either won't help or won't be genuine. If somebody isn't taking your advice, there's a reason for it (maybe it's not a good enough reason for you, but this isn't the point). It's okay to be disappointed or angry, but it's not going to help to lash out at them. That is only pouring water onto a grease fire.

[menlove]

some days you just have to put "(just like) starting over" on repeat and just stare at a wall for a few hours about it

[untilyouremember]

How I Met My Soulmate

Available digitally

Available in print

[drabbles-n-doodles]

So maybe this has to do with having listened to TMA when it was relatively close to being finished, at least in that it was properly done by the time I caught up to season 5 so I didn't actually have to wait to keep listening to new episodes, I could breeze through as many as I wanted in one sitting.

Meanwhile with Protocol I'm actually listening as each episode is released and I have to wait for a new episode to keep listening.

Anyway I think the point I'm getting at is this is actually the first podcast I've ever experienced in real time and not after it'd already been mostly finished, so the feeling I get every time I get to listen to a new ep is far more visceral and intense than what I'm used to with previous podcasts.

I'm certain I'm not the only person whose Protocol experience is going this way, but, on god, this show has me in a death grip like no other, possibly even more so than TMA did.

I wish I knew specifically what it is about this time around that is hitting on things that properly unnerve and freak me out, whereas TMA didn't even come close to making me all that uncomfortable beyond a meager handful of times. Protocol, on the other hand, has whipped out banger after banger and I am so goddamn unsettled in ways that I don't even have words to describe.

I am both terrified and excited to find out what else is in store.

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: Two pages from Trigun Maximum. In the first, Rem cries as she passionately exclaims to Vash, "Don't throw it all away! Don't let it go! Don't say you'd rather die!" Young Vash seems shocked as she exclaims that she wants to see the world together, because it's made up of more than worthless people. Rem's face is scrunched up and flushed, tears beading at her eyes as she cries.

In the second, Marlin fondly tells Vash that Meryl and Milly worry when he leaves them and that he needs to learn to let people help him out, because they want to do so. Vash seems surprised, then begins to cry. He looks similar to Rem, with flushed cheeks and tears at the corners of his eyes, as he cries, "... Don't... Just... Don't tell me something like that now!" End ID]

Like mother, like son.... [starts bawling so hard I choke to death]

[ID: Another flashback page with Rem and Vash. Vash smiles with contentment and says, "But... if you hadn't stopped me then... I never would have know that when you cry, Rem... you look like you're laughing." Rem is still teary, but she smiles happily. End ID]

Bonus :')

[jewishbarbies]

it’s actually wild to me that someone would harass a random person online anonymously as if they knew them somehow and they’re disappointed in some divergence of opinion/belief, like they genuinely had some kind of relationship. I’m not your friend. I never was and never will be. I don’t know you. I was here long before you got here and I’ll be here no matter what you send. block me and go find something to do with your time that’s better for your mental health.

[jonathanbyersphd]

YOU KNOW THAT I'D SWING WITH YOU FOR THE FENCES SIT WITH YOU IN TRENCHES

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

okay i'm done pretending i am anywhere near over my eddie diaz hyperfixation first of all can we get three cheers for me getting done pretending that i'm over my eddie diaz hyperfixation

[ruvviks]

mikhail being acceptance and vitali being denial. two of the quotes in the post are centered around "i want you to remember me" (mikhail) and "i want to go back" (vitali) which shows in their behavior in their years alone

mikhail tries to move on. he focuses on his education with his eyes on the future and while he does get so absorbed into it that it's unhealthy he does try to like, honor vitali's memory by using the studying methods he taught him but he does move on from him

whereas vitali is smoking and drinking and fucking nearly every guy he comes across in college trying to fill the gaping hole in his chest that ended up there when he lost mikhail and nobody can satisfy his needs. and he wants to go back so bad but he's got nowhere to go back to because he doesn't know where mikhail lives and his family doesn't want him anymore

[medicasino]

i'm seriously tired of this like,,, constant feeling of never really feeling important to anyone. and it's like, it's 100% on me, it is 100% my fault i feel this way but,,, eugh

[orcelito]

They're gonna monitor meeee & also I'm gonna get adhd testing. Also I nearly just fell off my bike. Not used to having a basket

[aspacewar]

I am,,, feeling so incredibly normal today, about my imaginary D&D dude and their train-wreck of a life

Sorry mutuals & followers I’m gonna be Worse than normal today I swear I’ll shut the fuck up soon

Need a separate blog for D&D shit honestly

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[heavndoll]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

[cometblaster2070]

this scene is so personal to me it genuinely makes me DIE inside like genuinely everything about it.

from weiss's reaction and her expression and just the sheer, utter pain written all across her face as she's once again painfully reminded of what happened back in atlas, as she's once again reminded of all the things that previously went wrong.

and GOD, the look on ruby's face. poor ruby, who is also thinking about the ruins that they've left back home, who sees how horribly weiss is hurting and wishes for nothing more than to take that pain away, but can do nothing more than gently lead her away.

there's something about the expressions of guilt and shame and just pure hurt on both of their faces; the way you can immediately tell how weiss is very vividly remembering what happened back in V8 and how ruby is trying so so hard to NOT think about that and only focus on weiss right now and make sure that weiss is okay.

also i'm just a sucker for how soft they are with each other. ruby's hand on weiss's back and the way she's gently holding her hand and leading her away??? goodbye i am unwell you can pry them out of my cold dead hands.