#i miss blue period. i should catch up :(((

[dizzybizz]

omg thinking about blue period again and holy shit oh god oh no oh geez oh man

these panels rip my heart right out of my chest

i think about them so much

they mean so much to me

yuka means so much to me

[myosotisa]

Us versus Them - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

‖  summary: You made the mistake of telling your boyfriend Eddie you were having trouble using one of your toys because it was too strong. He's determined to help.

‖  notes: smut, it's porn without plot, graphic sexual content. 'sir' kink, rope bondage, overstimulation, sex toy use, spitting, slapping (face and body), choking, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), praise, unprotected p in v, implied creampie, implied squirting, mean!Dom!Eddie (with aftercare). it's messy y'all, let me know if i missed anything.

‖  word count: 2.6k

‖  this was written for @ghost-proofbaby because i said i would use all her kinks against her and this is my attempt. so here you go, babe. thanks to @fracturedarkness, @blue-mossbird, and @abibliophobiaa for proofreading and helping me write the ending. enjoy!

“If you don’t stop pulling on the rope it’s gonna break your skin, baby. Maybe I should get you some nice padded cuffs so you can struggle all you want without hurting yourself. But we can’t do that right now so,” the only warning you receive is the meat of Eddie’s palm touching your inner thigh, lining up the shot, punctuating the next 3 words with harsh slaps, “stop fucking squirming.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry! It’s just so, so much,” your voice breaks into a croak at the end, catching on the end of the sentence as your back arches away from the toy that Eddie holds relentlessly to your clit. He tied you up what felt like hours ago and has barely given you a chance to fucking breathe since he’d gotten the Rose Toy in his hand.

He pushes up onto all fours, moving from his prime viewing angle between your quivering legs to hover over your tear stained and flushed pink face. “Poor baby,” he coos in a mocking tone, his free hand running knuckles down your sweating cheek. “Too sensitive for her new toy. I told you I was gonna help you, didn’t I? Told you I was gonna tie you up and get you used to it, didn’t I?” The relentless buzz sends your eyelids fluttering again, a whimper crawling its way out of your throat as you try to process what he’d asked you. 

The next slap hits you across the cheek, lighter than the smacks on your thighs, but still harsh enough that your eyes shoot back open and your cracked lips break apart in a gasp. Eddie’s thumb and forefinger press into your cheeks on either side, locking your jaw wide as he leans in even closer. Reeling back an inch, he spits hard into your open mouth, hitting the back of your throat and triggering your gag reflex. “I asked you a question, dumb whore.”

“You did,” you mumble out through the way he grips your jaw, struggling to swallow the thick saliva that pools in the back of your throat from yourself and him. “You told me, Eddie.”

“There we go, now was that so hard?” He asks, eyebrows raising to let you know he does expect an answer. You shake your head the best you can given his hold and he rewards you with removing his hand and the press of a button, making the vibration swap from a constant swirl to a pulsing vibration that you feel from your scalp to your toes.

“Edd-ie!” You keen, your back bowing as your body tries to pull away from the overwhelming sensation. He’d learned that if he left it on one setting for a long enough period of time, it would start to lose potency, almost like a numbness, which made swapping the pattern that much more powerful.

“Eddie!” He parrots back to you in a high pitched tone. “Aw baby, you’re drooling all over your chin. Messy girl.”

Eyebrows pinching tight together, a broken moan echoes out into the room as your pussy clenches down hard on nothing. “Please, sir, it hurts.”

“You can’t handle it? It hurts?” His voice pitches up in a taunt, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard, tears spilling out from the corner of your eyes as you nod. “That’s a shame baby. Because I need you to squirt all over your pretty blue bed sheets before we’re done.” The idea of needing to hold back in order to achieve that has you whimpering in the back of your throat – your last 3 orgasms had torn out of you like wild animals.

“I can’t – I can’t do it, Eddie. I can’t,” you babble, the words stuck on your tongue like a skipping record as your hazy and sluggish brain tries to make sense of anything.

A ringed hand grips your throat, not cutting off air or blood flow, but with enough pressure to pin you down and make you really feel it. There’s an absolute inferno of lust in his eyes, pupils blown out in an oil fire that shows no signs of stopping any time soon.

“You can, and you will.” His command is deep gravel, sending an electric shiver down your spine. “Don't be ungrateful baby, you take what I give you, understand?”

A sob tears from your throat, tears falling freely as your thighs clamp down on Eddie’s hand and the toy it holds. But you don’t answer fast enough, Eddie’s other hand tightening on either side of your neck to stamp the blood flow to your brain. “You really have lost all your manners, haven’t you, sweetheart? Not a single brain cell in that whole noggin’.” He lets go quickly after, huffing a little laugh at how you suck in air, and then flicks your temple with his middle finger. “Just a stupid slut that can’t think of anything other than how much you want to be filled up.”

The idea of some kind of stimulation other than the Rose has you begging before you can even second guess it. “Please, please sir, want to be filled up so bad. Want your fingers or your cock or your tongue, please, just anything.”

“Anything, huh?” He asks, manic gilt in his eye as his plump lips spread in a sharp grin. “Anything at all?”

“No, no no no no, please, want you Eddie! Want you inside me, please!” You know he would comply maliciously to your request unless you scrambled your thoughts together enough to make a more specific one. Attention wavering from your own body to him as you try to ignore the pressure building in your abdomen for the who knows how many-th time.

“Sounds so pretty, baby,” his sharp grin goes soft, just a bit of teeth behind bitten red lips. “Beg for it again. Better this time.”

The vibrator switches patterns on cue.

“Please!” Comes out as a screech, a burn crawling down your vocal chords that you know you’ll be feeling tomorrow. “Please, sir, want you to fuck me so bad. Want your cock, want your cum insi-ide me. Please, pleasepleasepleaseplease-”

A whispered “fuck,” is the first sign you get that Eddie’s resolve is crumbling. It has you gasping out, fingers twisting in the rope that still binds you to the headboard in anticipation. Whenever he got like this, wanting to bring you to tears and desperation more than anything else, it was hard to get him to change his mind. But once the first pillar cracked, betraying his carefully curated domineering persona, it was a short matter of time until all that remained was splinters.

His free hand flies to his belt, fumbling fingers trying to pull it loose. “Okay, baby, I hear you. I’ll give you what you want if you give me what I want, okay?” You nod harshly, a full body shiver coasting through you as another moan hits the air. Then a sharp pinch on your inner thigh has you yelping. “I said, okay?”

“Okay, yes, yes, whatever you want,” you rush out, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to not halt the progress of getting this adventure to finally be over, “I’ll do anything.”

“Good girl,” he hits a little love tap right where he pinched, sending another shock straight to your cunt, before he goes back to yanking his belt free. It takes an awkwardly long time for him to do with one hand but you know better than to tease him for it now. You just wait as patiently as you can while he undoes his fly and shimmies his pants and boxers down just low enough for his fat cock to hit the air. Just the sight of it, skin tinted with an angry red and pearly white pre-cum pooled in the foreskin that covers the tip, has your toes curling and your thighs tensing. All you can do is watch as he wraps his long-fingered hand around the top of it, easing the skin back so he can spread the substance down his shaft, a shaky exhale leaving him as he pumps his fist a few times before tilting his hips down toward you.

Realizing he’s going to fuck you fully dressed while you lie naked on your bed has your breath catching again before you even feel the hot mushroom head of him press into you below where the Rose still buzzes relentlessly. “Fuck! Baby, you’re so wet – shit, so fucking t-tight.” He stutters out, clearly affected as he starts to feed inch after inch of his hard cock into your fluttering cunt with a hand gripping the base to stop him from finishing before he can even get all the way inside.

The feeling of him splitting you open, how your own slick pushes its way out of you in rivulets as he bullies his way inside almost threatens to undo you immediately. Your gasp comes out as a croak, your eyebrows drawing tight together in near agony as he bottoms out.

“Sh-shit. Baby, I’m not gonna last. I can-” he cuts off with a groan as you clench down on his length when the vibrations come back to the forefront of your attention. “Can feel the vibe. Feel how close you are.”

“Eddie, please,” you whimper, fingernails digging into your palms as you lose the only control of yourself that you had left when he starts to pull back. He rears back only a scarce inch or two before his hips rush back forward, lips parting soundlessly as his face contorts in feeling. You prepare for the onslaught but curse loudly when he pulls all the way out, leaving you feeling even more empty and bereft than before. Before you can openly question it, he grips your leg and folds it back, knee towards the bedside table, and wedges himself beneath your hips and the bed. He reaches over and hitches your other leg up similarly, using the elbow of the arm that is still wedged between your legs to keep it in place.

Hips tipped up, he forces himself back inside your awaiting hole without warning. Positioned like this, he rubs directly up against the spot on the front wall of your cunt that has you seeing stars and trying not to scream. “There she is,” he sighs out, a satisfied smile gracing his face when he sees your eyes roll back. His hand goes back to gripping the underside of your thigh, pressing the fold deeper as he grinds down into you. “Now we’re giving her what she wants, isn’t that right?”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your pussy and that knowledge sends you spinning, barely keeping afloat as he begins to fuck into you in earnest. “Fuck, baby, never gets old,” the rough material of his jeans rubs against your ass, the metallic clatter of his belt slapping the sides of your thighs each time he bottoms out. “Like this pussy was made for me.”

“Yours,” you manage to squeak out, trying to focus on the way his cock splits you apart instead of the numbing pain of the Rose that still swirls against your overstimulated clit. “Yours, yours, yours.”

“That’s right,” a throaty laugh rumbles through him as he looks down to where the two of you are connected, “my pretty pussy that’s gonna gush all over me, just like I asked.” The vibrator swaps patterns again, the new one way past too much for you, and you can’t stop the scream that forces itself out of your dropped jaw. Eddie groans above you, feeling both the new vibration and how strongly your muscles clench around him as it reacts to the stimulation. “Can feel you, my little slut.” His fingers dig into the meat on the underside of your quivering thighs as he settles into a bruising pace. “You gonna give me what I want? Gonna soak my cock, make a mess of your pretty sheets?”

“Eddie!” Is the only response you have to offer as your eyes pinch closed, trying to focus on letting the pressure within you build beneath the pain of the overstimulation.

“Right here, baby,” he confirms, cold rings rubbing along your thigh to soothe you, “I’ve got you. Just gotta give it to me, sweetheart. Give me what I want. Make a mess.”

The wet squelch of your pussy is obscene as you squeak out an exhale each time he drives home, pressure tipping higher and higher until your fingers, toes, and lips go numb. “E- euh,” you try to get out his name, let him know you’re going to come, that you’re going to give him what he wants, but all you can do is moan out. Loud and long, voice pitching up as his satisfied grin returns again. It only takes a few more rolls of his hips against yours, the curls at the base of his cock flattened wet with your own slick, before you lose yourself entirely.

Vision whiting out, back bowing, muscles in your body clenching tight as all sensation centers around your bullied cunt and then explodes outwards in a rush of endorphins you simply cannot feel. If there was ever a moment that you would describe as ‘leaving the Earth’ it would be this one – and in the overwhelm of that rush, you abandon the ground, floating up amongst the stars until all goes dark.

Did so good for me, sweetheart.

So pretty, so perfect.

Come back to me, baby. Nice and easy.

When your eyes blink back open again, all you can see is the side of Eddie’s head, his hair tucked behind his ear. He’s looking down your body, and as you follow his gaze, the feeling returns to between your legs, where he is carefully wiping you clean with a warm, wet cloth. You're unable to stop the whimper from coming out as you instinctively twitch away from the gentle touch. His big, brown eyes shoot to yours at the movement, pulling the soft cloth away from your sensitive skin. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. I’m almost done. Doing so good.”

Nullified by his praise, you grit your teeth and bare it as he does 2 more soft swipes across your swollen folds and then tosses the rag back toward your bathroom with a wet slap. “Okay, now some water.” A hand tucked behind your shoulder to lift just your head off the mattress, a cold glass of water presses to your dry lips. You take a few grateful gulps before pushing back against his hand to let him know you're done. Not wanting to push you to drink more, he sets the glass down on the bedside table and reaches for your hand, gripping the tender skin of your wrist between his own fingers and pressing a kiss to the marks the rope left behind. “What else do you need, anything?”

Swallowing hard to attempt to find your words for the first time, you shake your head. “Just you, Eddie. Just you.”

- - -

Sneaking back into your shared apartment a few weeks later, you’re careful not to let the plastic bag in your grip make too much noise as you run as quietly as you can to the bedroom. 

Your new purchase is a bit different than the toys you and Eddie have played with so far, but your excitement is almost beyond measure.

After all, payback is a bitch. And it’s you versus him.

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let me know if you enjoyed, thanks for reading :)

[writella]

hi! s10 is so fun so enjoy it when you start it! can i request a daryl smut of any kind?

Before We Leave

Synopsis: Here’s one about you sitting all sweet on Daryl’s lap because I have not stopped thinking about him holding you in his arms and giving you all the kisses after reading this headcanon! ♡

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, set during the period between seasons 8-9, kissing, smut—grinding, thigh riding, fingering, making a mess when you have places to go (such sillies). Mostly proofread. Feel free to give feedback!

A/N: It’s been a minute, guys, I know :( and to ava, so sorry for the wait ♡ I hope you like this and I can’t wait to get to season 10 too!! And know that I definitely still have your initial request in mind for later on!!

First, you noticed his hair: ever so endearingly disheveled, the waves falling so effortlessly as they did in their shaggy way; and then you noticed his skin— it shined. Normally, this would have been because of work and sweat from the late spring heat, but he was clean, he had showered today. He even changed his clothes, and surprisingly, his light beard was trimmed, his face was washed too– it illuminated with his small lazy smile that appeared as you came through the door. He looked so nice and ready to go. Your handsome man. He was waiting for you.

He wore a dark blue long-sleeve, the buttons at the start undone, exposing the top of his chest as he always preferred. And his sleeves, only just big enough to be slightly loose around his arms; they were rolled up at the forearms. It looked good. Though the better fit was his equally loose vest that was layered on top. Seeing it reminded you of how much you missed it. It took him so long to get it back from Dwight. It’s only now that you’re realizing how it fits again, how well it suits him. It’s not that he needed it of course, but you did love how it completed every outfit he wore, making it just so him.

In fact, everything about him was so, so—

“Hey,” he calls to you, his voice itself a finger snap to your attention, “you alright there?”

“Yeah,” you respond, meeting his eyes as you pathetically try to joke, “Just can’t think of the last time I actually saw you sit. We’re always… fighting or doing something aren’t we?”

“Mmhm.” He smiles inwardly. Your staring was nothing short of obvious, and you both know it: You were leaning against the door frame, eyes wide and lingering, trailing over him as he sat on your desk chair. But to him it was sweet, honestly. Almost humorous to see. It was nice to see you smile over nothing other than looking at dumb old him, or at least that's what he assumes of himself. He should know better by now than to think like that, but it's still just his way sometimes. You were in love with him though, and he loved you; and you liked looking at his dumb old face, and he knew that. That's why he doesn’t mind your gazing. That’s why he says, “C’mon,” patting his lap, knowing you wanted to come closer; his eyes catching how much yours went lower and lower, changing from innocent peerings to just a little something else, something more.

You’re hesitant at his invitation, but smiling like a kid. It's true you couldn’t help how good his thighs looked and how good the fingers that splayed over them were— rough and thick— their feeling on your skin taking you back to the past— but his noticing… Well, it just makes you blush. It makes you take slow footsteps, one in front of the other as you come closer to him, bashful and snickering. Once you’re near enough he holds you by the hips and you skip to meet his movements towards him. He turns your backside to him on the right side of the chair and sits you down, horizontal from his forward figure.

“Silly,” he calls you, flicking your nose as he taunts. It’s gentle and harmless even in his typical, slightly grumbled tone.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your wrists and hands curling at his neck, your side pressed into him. He feels bigger when you’re in his arms like this. As if he can comfort you or sheild you from anyone or anything— and you know he could. So safe is what you feel with him; the sigh you let out proves it. The fighting may have finished almost a year ago now, but moments like this are truly what feels like peace. And with that, your mind drifts backwards again. Realizing how you don’t remember the last time you’ve sat like this. With him. Just holding you.

One of his hands holds your thigh while the other grounds you by the lower waist, nearing your hip. You turn your face to his, raising a hand, parting some of the hair in front of his forehead, holding his jaw and you kiss him. You put your tongue between his lips. It’s quick but tender. There is a tiny trail of spit between you two as you let go. Tilting your head, you look at him with an already happy and dazed little smile. You don’t remember the last time you got a good look at him either. And you’re not talking about any of the times you’ve looked at him while simply talking or standing by him, that was almost all the time; but for so long standing next to each other was to cover one another in a fight, kill a walker, but this— this was simply because you wanted to, because he was yours, and you loved him, and you could.

He goes in to meet your lips first this time, holding you by the neck and jaw with one hand, and the other is at your back making you lean in closer. You give in to him, let him take the lead. Your feet curl under the chair and you smile into his indefinite kisses. It makes you accidentally nip at his lower lip which turns into him intentionally biting your lip thereafter. It’s just a bit harder, but he might have done it a tad more sharply than he intended.

“Ow,” you hiss, hushed and soft between breaths, but he’s already soothing the area at the corner there, giving you a lick and little pecks before returning to what he was doing before: kissing you and kissing you.

“You’re fine,” he tells you dryly in between.

Your hands lowers to his chest, feeling his collarbones, then down to his heart. Your fingers rest on the exposed skin there, then trailing lower, ghosting over the closed buttons. You want to, but maybe you shouldn’t. It wasn’t exactly the time.

Originally, you had come home to shower and change: Everyone was having dinner together at Rick and Michonne’s tonight, the first time in a long time. In fact, it was Judith who requested it; she said specifically how much she wanted all of her friends to be there. And you couldn’t disappoint the sweet girl who gave you a construction paper and crayon written invitation, asking you to promise Uncle Daryl would come. The ticket was for both of you, a little picture of you two holding hands at the bottom. ‘Pretty smile you,’ and ‘grumpy pants him,’ she explained.

It was hilariously perfect and it made your heart leap. You and Micchone laughed for a whole minute about it and you hugged Judith immediately after.

Though you couldn’t believe that she could possibly think Daryl wouldn’t come. Of course he’d do anything for her, and you would too, so just as much, ‘Of course,’ you told her, ‘We’ll even be there 10 minutes early so we can pick seats next to you,’ you had said.

But now you’re here, in such a cliche you’d roll your eyes at if you weren’t so in the moment, with Daryl touching up your leg and you allowing it. For once, you’re the one all dirty in your work clothes. And the longer you kiss him, and the longer he holds you on his lap, the more you feel it; the want, the need. You’re getting restless and you’re struggling to weigh the options in your mind.

You lived in Alexandria, helping Rick, Micchone, Rosita… And Daryl, he was sent off to head reconstruction at the Sanctuary: you two don't get to see each other as often as you’d like.

And the Sanctuary wasn’t a place you particularly liked visiting anyways, especially not at first, and he didn’t blame you. But you had still talked to him about trying it, staying there. Maybe a week, maybe longer, maybe seeing if someone else can take over your Alexandria responsibilities, but honestly, he didn’t want you there either. He didn’t even want to be there. Every week that went by was another step closer to talking to Rick about leaving.

Still, moments like this are when you wonder about asking again, if you should be the one to finally move instead… The thought fades as Daryl now groans slightly into your mouth, you had pushed yourself down on his groin which elicited the dark sound, and you moan into him in response. Your hand gripping tightly to his bicep and his digs into your side, holding you tight— you’re losing the ability to think.

His tongue is twisting with yours, and his hand goes lower on your hip, the other deeper into your hair. You’re starting to have a heat pool at your center and you're squeezing your thighs together.

Daryl can sense it and feel all of it: the indecision, the squirming– your feet shuffling and curling against each other, your legs slowly swinging up and under the chair as you do so, as your continue to melt into his lips.

And he does feel it too, though he’s better at not showing it, but you do start to feel him shifting underneath you. An erection starts to harden as your hand goes lower on his chest and the little sounds of you humming into his mouth become more sexy, more desiring, than simply sweet as you continue.

He lets go, slipping his fingers between your knees, “We don’t gotta do too much.”

This makes you laugh. You’re still looking at him all dopey eyed, and more than slightly needy despite your words terribly trying to fight it, “What’s just enough then?”

His hand moves up along your inner thighs as an answer. His fingers trail up until they reach the center, and press into you at the inseam of your jeans. You start to buck up to his movements just as they begin. You even put your own hand over his, pressing into yourself more, your head tilting back. You bite your lip, whining lightly.

“Like that?” He asks, your neediness surprising the both of you.

“Last time I saw you was last week— for a day,” you’re speaking between light, out of breath pants, “outside- scavenging- no time.” Leaning forward into his touch, pretty sounds trail out, “-uh, mmm.”

You continue to grind against his hand harder, adding your other hand on top of his for more pressure until he says, “Get up.”

You stand, starting to undo your jeans and Daryl pushes the back of your chair further against your desk and starts to unbuckle his belt, but right before he finishes, you stop him. You grab his hands, “Wait,” you tell him, slipping off your shoes, and discarding your pants until you sit down again, straddling his lap.

There was something about the way you could see the outline of his bulge by how his pants laid on him, and the nice friction you knew the jeans would cause underneath you that felt so enticing. And more importantly, his bulge looked huge, fat even, you wanted to sit yourself perfectly right on top of it, making sure you could feel it all squish deliciously into your pussy lips with only your thin underwear covering you.

You begin to rock, pushing down against him. Your tiptoes reach the ground, helping you dig in and your hands go to grab onto his shoulders. Daryl holds your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, helping to roll your body into his.

His legs shift beneath you and it makes you think about his thighs again. How yummy they would feel just like his bulge…You have a little bit of time, right? Never mind- you’ll do it fast.

You get up once more, now placing yourself on his left thigh and you start rocking against him again.

Daryl quietly lets you, his hands go under your shirt and you let him take it off, leaving you in only your underwear while he’s fully clothed. He doesn’t mind letting you do what you want right now, he’s enjoying it. Grunting lowly, loving how he can watch you in your blissed out state: your open mouth, your sloppy humping and riding, how you're whining and panting as he touches up your stomach, how you’re so needy that you take one of his hands higher to caress your breast. He licks his teeth, “Need it bad, huh?” He tenses his quad, applying pressure so perfectly, just as you’d been thinking about for days. “Huh, sweetheart?”

“Think about you everyday, Daryl.” You sound just a bit too pathetic, but he eats it up, a small wicked grin coming to his face just looking at how much you wanted him. Not only thinking about his cock stuffed in you, but even how you wanted his thighs too? Just him in general? His poor girl, so deprived of him. He hated being apart, but fuck did he love how desperate it made you when he visited, desperate for him, desperate for him to give it to you or let you have it in any way. It gave him ideas of what he would do to you after you got back from dinner.

Your knee is centered in the middle of his thighs, pushing against his groin with each roll of your pelvis and the rock of Daryl’s hands as he pushes your hips forward, both helping you reach that point of pure bliss, going hard and deep, while giving him just a bit a release from the tension he feels because of you.

You close your eyes, head tilting up to the side lightly, mouth agape. “Ah, mm-” Your frustrated sounds then turn into you sighing so light, so sweetly, “I missed you.”

His hand reaches the side of your face briefly, rolling over your hair and cheek, “Missed you too.”

You knew your underwear was more than damp at this point, but you hoped the dark denim of his pants would mean it wouldn’t be that bad. You were lying to yourself honestly, but you did have wipes anyway, and… Was it bad to say you wanted to soak his jeans? For him to see the mess you made? Remember how big of a spot you created for later? There was no mistake, he had to spend the night. Having dinner in Alexandria made it so that it was too late for him to go back to the Sancutary afterwards. You wondered what he’d do to you later, what you’d let him do. He did miss you, he said it himself after all. And you feel his stare on your lower stomach as you continue to roll yourself on him, as he watches your clothed pussy make a mess of his jeans. And he sees the way his unintentional grunts and slight growls to the sight of you make your head tilt back, mouth opened so wide like you were already preparing to suck him off.

Your eyes are closed, your open mouth allowing a string of “ahs,” to come out as you continue to rub yourself against his muscle, wiggling a little, back and forth, going in a circle for a second to get more attention onto your clit, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter from your boyfriend’s big, and thick thigh. Your knee digs into him harder and he uses one hand to push it against him more.

After he lets go, one of his hands slips into your underwear, placing his middle finger over your clit, rubbing fast circles into it as much as he can as you continue to rock down on both thigh and fingers now. The extra friction feels so good. You’re whining, your panting, holding onto his shoulder with one hand, the other hand grabbing onto your desk, trying to stabilize yourself as you attempt to go faster, your movements becoming more erratic. “Daryl, please,” you whine, “help me.”

He places his free hand on your ass, kneading it forward and his other hand tries its best to circle into your pussy as much as it can.

As his middle finger continues to circle your clit, his two other fingers push into either side of your labia. “Go on,” he encourages, “Already made a mess. Make it bigger.” He moves his hand to your hip again, pushing you down. “You got it.”

Then he starts bouncing his leg, you bounce along with him, trying to rock as hard as you can. You start moaning louder, it’s continuous, you’re getting closer, you see yellow white light behind your eyes as a release takes over you, it’s hot and you can barely breathe, you almost wail as you coat his hands, ruining your panties, soaking his jeans. It felt amazing.

You huff out heavily now, finally opening your eyes to see Daryl take his hand from beneath you, licking his fingers clean. Wet popping sounds come out after he sucks each one, looking you directly in the eye. “Mmm.”

You blush gingerly at him. Getting up you see the large wer spot on his pant leg. It wasn’t a circle, it was ovular, taking up half the area of his thigh. Your teeth clench, you thought it would be big, but… you didn’t know it would be that big. This wasn’t something you could quickly clean off. “I guess it’s a good thing you keep your extra clothes here?”

He keeps his face straight, he figured as much would happen, but it was fun to see you squirm. “These were my extra clothes.”

“Oh.”

You should have let him take his pants off.

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

Workin’ Hands (pt. 2) (Kit Walker x Reader)

Pt. 1, Pt. 1.5, Pt. 2

“You should do whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.

“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”

warnings: making out. smut. fluff? to smut. innocent!reader. parents?. fingering

You expected him to honk, or wait in his rusty blue convertible down the street— you’d walk down, your hand over your eyes, shielding your face from passersby, and quietly get in his car. He’d put his top up and drive off, putting his hand on your thigh without even saying hello.

Instead, he came to your door at five minutes to five. He knocked twice, whistling on your doorstep. Your mother opened the door. You were lucky— your father wasn’t home that evening, he was out drinking with friends from work.

“Good evening!” you could hear your mother say from your room upstairs. You were applying one last dusting of powder before your departure into whatever this odd night would be.

“Hello, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’m Kit,” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She shook it loosely, then replied, “Nice to meet you, dear,” she’d said, her nose turned up slightly. She’d, like all the other mothers in town, heard of one Kit Walker, town womanizer and delinquent.

You came down the stairs in your skirt a few inches above the knee, a short-sleeved collared blouse tucked into it, a shiny belt around the meeting of the two pieces.

You didn’t say anything, just looked at your mother. You walked to the door slowly. He held a singular rose in a brown paper wrapping, a thin pink ribbon tied around it.

“Mrs. (Y/L/N), I’d love to take your daughter out on a date,” he said with an intense tone of earnest.

“Oh, my,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows, putting her hand on her chest. “Honey, you know I can’t say yes without your father.”

“Please, ma’am. I’ll have her back by nine,” he smiled. “Your daughter is a lovely girl. I have every intention of being a gentlemen,” he held her eye contact, then glanced at you. You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes, but your mother had looked out the window, a concerned expression on her face, so she missed this little addition.

“Alright. I want her back by eight, though,” she said, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, eyes wide, clearly distraught.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much,” he smiled, offering you his arm. You wrapped yours around his and walked to his car.

“Oh, this is for you,” he smiled sweetly, handing you the rose in his hand.

You look up at him. “Thank you,” you put your nose to the bud, smiling.

He opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you situated yourself. Then, he walked to the drivers’ side, getting in the car next to you. He looked at you, staring until you met his eyes, as well, and he smiled, then looked to the road and drove away.

The wind blew in your hair, which was pulled half-up. His arm rested on the top of the door.

You watched him, periodically, and he’d turn and catch your gaze, and you’d look down at your lap. He would then stare at you as long as his driving allowed him, watching your cheeks flush pink.

About ten minutes into the drive, you rested your head on the top of the car door, the wind blowing your hair back. You stuck your arm out the window, feeling the harsh breeze of the moving car hit your skin. He looked over at you, getting flushed himself.

You drove down a tree-lined street, his eyes frequently flickering from the road over to you.

As you pulled up to a lakeside lot, parking atop the grass, he looked over at you.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Ain’t never been to the lake before?” he asks, putting a toothpick in his mouth.

“Well, I’ve heard of it,” you flush. “But I heard it was where boys and girls go to… you know…” you tilt your head to the side, then back up.

He chuckles. “Aw, yeah, in the summers some late nights you got some couples out here in their cars, windows all foggy,” he shakes his head, “but mostly it’s just a nice place to sit, I think,” he pauses, then smirks, “Unless you wanted to… you know…” he mimics you.

You flush and frown slightly.

“Honey, I’m just kidding,” he says, putting his hand on your cheek. Then, he reaches to the back seat, grabbing a basket and pulling it to the front. “I brought sandwiches!” he beams.

You look inside the basket. There are two wrapped sandwiches, two apples, and two toffee candies.

“Not much of a dinner,” his Massachusetts accent was accentuated by the combination of words, “But you said you didn’t wanna be seen, so,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure him, feeling somewhat guilty. “I swear it! I just… didn’t want people to get the wrong idea about me,” you fidget with your fingertips.

“I understand,” he says, taking the toothpick from his mouth and placing it in the pocket of the door.

“The food is lovely,” you reassure him. He smiles.

You sit and eat and chat about light topics— work, college, your families.

When you’re finished, he puts his trash back in the basket, taking yours as well, then puts the basket on the floor of his back seat.

“So, you really never been on a date before?” he smiles.

“Not once,” you say.

“Sure you’ve kissed someone before, though, right?” he asks curiously.

“No, I haven’t,” you smiled awkwardly.

That was all he had to know.

“I’d like to be your first kiss,” he says smoothly.

“Now?” you ask in a light, mousy tone.

“Only if you want that,” he lowers his face, looking at you from under his brow.

“I really don’t know how soon you’re supposed to kiss a guy…” you say. You both engage in a near-deadly eye contact.

“Honey, you’re not supposed to do anything. That’s all stuff your parents make you think,” he says. He puts his hand on your arm, rubbing it gently, his face a soft, encouraging smile, “You should do whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.

“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”

“I think,” you pause, flushing a deep red, “I think I’d kiss you now,” you whisper sheepishly.

He stares at you for a moment, then puts his hand on your face. He leans into you, pausing a moment, feeling your warm breath on his lips. Then, he closed the gap, kissing you gently. It’s a still kiss, and it only lasts a few moments. He pulls away, eyes scanning your face once again.

You stare at him, gathering all of your will, then follow him back, pursuing his lips to kiss him once again. This kiss is more fiery, as he allows his mouth to work against yours. He moves the hand he had placed on your cheek back so his fingers became tangled in your hair, placing his other on the side of your waist.

When he realizes your hands are still on your lap, he reaches down, grabs them, placing them on each side of his neck. He inhales deeply, his lips growing momentarily harsher against yours. Those soft, small hands— he was tethered to them somehow.

He puts both of his hands back on each far side of your jawline, pulling your face towards his. Your kiss follows his in passion and movement, and you breathe in your proximity one last time before pulling away.

Your eyes flutter across each others’ faces, still inches away. You even smell sweet, he thinks to himself. Like cherries. He smiles at you.

He almost swallows his next question, afraid to ruin the moment, but he had to hear you say it. He had to hear it himself.

“So, you’re really a virgin?” he asks.

You pause, looking down at your lap. “I am,” you smile shyly.

He had heard about you around town.

A shame she’s a total smokeshow, boys would say when you walked into the diner, she’s a total prude. They called you stiff, stuck-up.

You were none of that. You were something completely different.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, lost in thought.

“You’re gorgeous,” you smile. Of course that’s what you would say.

He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, smiling, his dimples carving into his cheeks.

You breathe deeply, trying to re-center yourself. “I’ve never had this feeling with anyone else before,” you confess.

He smirks, leaning back, “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you pause, identifying all your current symptoms before speaking again, “You make my heart race and my cheeks feel tingly and sometimes my stomach will feel tight, and it’s almost like a nervous feeling, but it’s not exactly the same.”

“Honey,” he says smoothly, laughing a bit, “Am I… Am I turning you on?”

You’d heard the phrase, however you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. It felt right, though; you did feel as though he was flipping a switch inside you that hadn’t been flipped yet. “I don’t,” you pause, “I don’t know what that means exactly.”

He smiles. Of course you don’t. He leans into you, then says, “Well, it’s,” he collects his thoughts, trying to find the best way to describe it to you, “It’s what makes men and women… want to… touch each other.”

You place a hand to your chest, concerned about the tightness and heaviness with which your heart was pounding. “How do I know if that’s what I’m feeling?”

“Well,” he smirks. As smooth as anything’s ever been said, he looks into your eyes and asks, “Do you want me to touch you?”

It’s the way you know you need water when you’re parched or sleep when you’re tired or air when you’re lightheaded underwater. You think of him touching you and you feel in your bones that it’s what you need. “Yes.”

“Can you do me a favor, honey?” hey says, caramel laced in his tone.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Can you get in the back seat for me, sweetheart?”

You pause, staring at him for a moment, processing his request. You realize you won’t say no to him no matter what you decide is the correct answer, so you simply nod and open the car door. He sprints around to the other side of the car, holding the back door open for you. Even in these circumstances, he’s ever the gentleman.

He waits until you are seated, then follows you in.

You look at him, flushed, a slight confusion set in your brow bone.

“I’m not taking your virginity, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, his one hand on your hip, the other brushing a piece of hair from your face.

You look into his eyes, cheeks flushed a bright pink.

He whispers, “Do you trust me?” he asks.

You nod without thinking twice on the question.

“Can you lay back for me?” he speaks in the most gentle tone he can, almost like speaking to a small, skittish animal.

You do as he asks, resting your head at the bottom of the car window.

He puts his two hands on the outside of your thighs.

Those big, calloused hands.

He kisses your knee tenderly. “Open your legs for me, please?” he asks, then adds, “It’s the last thing you have to do for me, okay? Promise,” he says.

You let your legs fall apart, and he kisses your other knee, whispering, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

“Hmm,” you mumble, smiling, closing your eyes.

You look back up at him, biting your lip and fluttering your eyelashes as he traces the inside of your thighs with his fingertips.

You push your hips forward, straightening your back, his hand ending up a few inches farther up your thigh.

You let out a shaky breath, your voice caught in it momentarily, your eyes closed once again. Fuck, he thought, did you even know how lewd those sounds were? Did you even know what it could do to him if you didn’t stop?

He winces at the sudden rush of friction in his jeans. He’d have to cope with the discomfort for your sake.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he said. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. So obedient, he thought. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant.

Your naivety alone was enough to make him go rock solid.

“Have you ever touched yourself where other people haven’t so you could feel good?” he rephrases.

You shake your head, eyebrows knit together, lip between your teeth.

He begins to inch his hand up inside your thigh. You watch his face intently, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours for an instant.

When his fingertips finally brush against the lacy fabric of your underwear, you let out a high-pitched whimper, eyelids fluttering closed.

He pulls back a moment, tracing the inside of your upper thigh, then makes contact again, this time placing the entire area of his fingers against you.

You exhale loudly, looking at the ceiling of the car. You are flushed down your chest a bright red.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You almost believe you cannot, so shy under his hand now, but you know enough about him to know he means what he says.

You meet his eyes and, unexpectedly, he feels himself go weak for a second. Your otherworldly gorgeous face practically tore him inside out already, and now it was almost unbearable to look at you.

Almost.

His eyes scanned your features, taking all of you in.

He rubbed against the fabric, flipping between the flat of his fingers and the back of his knuckles, teasing you.

Then, he reached up with both of his hands, hooking his fingers around your underwear, pulling down over your legs, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor.

He leaned down, pressing his fingers against you again, his other arm now around your back, pulling you into his chest, crowding you with his heat. He maintains your eye contact.

He rubs your clit in circular motions, smirking as you struggle to keep your eyes open, letting out choked moans from your lips as you stare directly in his eyes.

He moves his fingers down, feeling all the wetness pooling at your entrance. He has to rest his head on your shoulder for a moment to recuperate. He’d never felt a girl this wet before.

“You are very wet,” he mumbles deeply into your ear, almost growling.

“Is- Is that a good thing?” you ask him.

“Yes.” He felt guilty for being almost frustrated with your innocence. You were torturing him, his dick relentlessly hardened against the seem of his pants.

He pushed one finger into you as gently as he could, slowly. “That okay, darlin’?” His accent grew thicker as the moments passed.

You winced in pain. You’d never had anything inside you before.

He nearly came just feeling how tight you were.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, relaxing as the pain resolved. You realized what you had said, “Kit,” you corrected.

“Mm, uh-uh. Sir is good,” he says breathlessly, pushing another finger into you.

You moan loudly, closing your eyes tightly.

“Eyes on me, sugar,” he orders.

Your eyes quickly return to his. “Yes, sir.”

He plays with you, moving his fingers up and back from circling your clit to pushing in and out of you.

You whimper at the strange combination of sensations, your heart pounding.

His eyes trail down your body. His hand up your skirt is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, he resolves.

He begins to push his two fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It’s seems a difficult multitask, however he has clearly mastered it beautifully.

You feel a hot, tight sensation forming at the bottom of your stomach. He continues to manipulate your body with his long fingers, and you feel the tightness building.

He smirks as your face changes from pleasure to confusion, and whispers, “Breathe, baby.”

It’s like he can read your mind.

“I feel,” you mumble, “I…” you wrap your hand around his bicep, suddenly needing something to hold onto.

“Uh huh,” he smiles confidently.

Suddenly, a white hot sensation rushes over your body. You moan loudly, breathing heavily, squealing out a messy string of exclamation like, “Kit, oh my.”

He’s nearly gone lightheaded from the vision of your arched back, your soft hands wrapped around his bicep, your hips rolling against his hand up your skirt.

“It’s okay,” he comforts you, “It’s okay.”

After a moment of the intense, unfamiliar sensation, Kit kisses you, smiling into your lips.

“Kit, what did you do to me?” you pull away, whispering, a euphoric smile pushing up into your cheeks.

He grins back at you, putting his hand on the side of your face. “All you need to know is I never want to stop doing it,” he responds.

You finally pick your shoulders up off the door, looking to the dashboard of the car.

“Oh my God,” you say.

“What?” he asks with a dorky smile on his face, still reeling from watching you come undone below him.

“It’s eight thirty!”

[mishwanders]

• Five Times You Share A Night With Twilight + The One Time You Do Something About It •

Summary: exactly what the title says.

Warnings/tags: GN! Reader, Hurt/Comfort, tooth rotting fluff, some comedy between the group, flirty Twi, there’s only one bed. Safe for Everyone.

Author’s Notes: I ain’t gonna lie y’all, this one is longer than what I usually write. I hope you enjoy it! Written by Mishwanders

{1}

After a long period of traversing through the woods of Hyrule, the Chain and you were finally able to make camp for the evening. As you were placing down your bed roll for the night, you took notice as to who was around you. To your surprise,someone was missing.

“Anyone seen Twi?”

The others looked around as well at each other, but all of them either shrugged or shook their heads in response.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. He probably just went to secure the perimeter.” Legend reassured you.

You nodded, continuing to pull out the rest of your stuff for the night. You took the measure to pull out Twilight’s bed roll as well from his pack, placing it down beside your own, just in case he came back and everyone else outside of the watch were asleep. You smiled to yourself as you made sure it was laid out nice and neat, placing his pillow and blanket at the head of it so he wouldn’t have to go digging for his things in the dark. As you were doing so, you happened to catch the attention of Wild who was eyeing you where he was stationed with the food. You shrugged at him and he gave you a knowing nod.

By the time that dinner had been eaten and the campfire dealt with, you all fell into your respective areas of respite, each of the Links dozing off one by one, all except for the watcher off in the distance and you.

You couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night, constantly looking over at Twilight’s sleeping bag, wishing he were there next to you. It’s not that you liked him (at least that’s what you kept telling yourself), you just liked having him close by. His presence was always warm and comforting, he was gracious enough to allow you to borrow his bear pelt when you got cold too. You felt as if you could relax in his presence compared to some of the more strict and rigid personalities of a few of the others (don’t even try to ask Legend of a blanket - it’s probably cursed anyway).

You stayed up longer, waiting to see when he would show, but as your eyelids began to grow heavier, you could hear the slow trot of paws against the rough ground. The dark shadowy figure of Wolfie came approaching you, sniffing vigorously at the bed roll Twilight should have been in. You slowly sat up to rest on an elbow, alerting the wolf that you were still awake. You greeted him with a smile and a small whisper.

“Twi’s not back yet. If you want, can you come sleep with me instead.” You stated, opening up your blanket to show there was room.

The wolf stared at you for a moment, blue eyes taking in the situation at hand. You weren’t even 100% sure he would take the offer - he typically preferred to sleep next to Wild. But to your surprise, the beast agreed, walking closer to you and plopping down beside you under your raised arm. It took everything in you not to squeal over the fact that Wolfie actually chose to stay by your side tonight (ya know, and not Wild, since he apparently likes him so much). You slowly lowered your arm down over him, allowing the blanket to encompass you both, keeping your arm gently on his fur. You laid your head back down on your pillow, gently stroking a small area of Wolfie’s fur, feeling him snuggle even closer to you. The wolf smelt like cedar - a common scent you knew that followed Twilight as well. It was comforting having the beast with you, feeling how warm he was next to you. He was like a heater biting off the cold night air. You found yourself growing more and more relaxed with him by your side. Twilight may not have been here, but Wolfie was, and with him by your side, you found yourself easily drifting to sleep for the rest of the night.

{2}

The Chain had traveled far off through another portal chasing after the Shadow that quickly got away without a trace. After a while of searching for the malevolent beast, you all decided to make camp once more for the evening, preparing for what was hopefully a restful night ahead. As you pulled out your bedroom, you noticed Twilight with his own, coming up beside you to lay out his next to yours. You gave him a warm smile, pleasantly surprised to see him. “Back so soon?”

“Time said he’d take over securing the perimeter tonight.” Twilight replied, dropping his bedroll draping along the ground.

You nodded, watching him pillow out his blanket and pillow. “How thoughtful of him.”

Twilight breathed out a laugh and smiled. “He can be when he wants to. Speakin’ o’ which, it was thoughtful of you to take care of Wolfie.”

He was looking directly at you when he spoke of his beloved beastly friend. His pretty blue eyes sparkling in the firelight caused an embarrassed heat to erupt over your face at his praise. “I-It was no problem! I was awake anyway and honestly I felt kind of honored. He never chooses me!”

With that you heard Wild, Legend, and Sky snickering to the side, knowing full well that they all heard you. Twilight shot them a look, which didn’t deter their behavior quite like Time’s did, but it was good enough for Wild to stop in his tracks. Twilight shook his head at their behavior and turned his attention back to you.

“Don’t listen to ‘em. Besides, I know Wolfie was very happy to sleep next to you.” Twilight reassured you.

“Oh yeah? What are you, some kind of animal whisperer?” You asked playfully.

He chuckled at that comment. “I’ve known Wolfie for long ‘nough to know he appreciated a warm bed for once.”

“I wouldn’t mind having him back as a cuddle buddy.” You laughed, “He was a soft heater throughout the night.”

“I’ll let him know, I know he’ll be more than happy to take you up on that offer.” He replied, a smile plastered on his face, looking sweeter than honey.

“Uh huh, sure he will.” Legend interrupted, gaining your attention. You raised an eyebrow in confusion at him.

“Oh, can it Vet.” Wars spoke up from the otherside of the fire, already in his bed.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Vet snapped back.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be getting your ‘beauty sleep’ anyway?” Wind chimed in.

Wars feigned hurt, lifting his eye mask to look at it. “Not you too, Sailor.”

You looked over towards Four and Hyrule, who were laughing at the words being thrown back and forth in front of them before Time silently stalked up behind them all. You laughed as his voice boomed, startling the ever living daylights out of them - a shrill scream leaving the two just caused more laughter to erupt from the group. Time shook his head and chuckled. “He may not be able to tell you what to do, but I can. You’re taking the second shift Vet, so I’d get that shut eye while you can.”

Legend grimaced at the mention of that. The laughter soon died out, everyone getting ready for bed. You slipped under your thin blanket, feeling the cool breeze still reaching you through it. You rolled over on your side and whispered to Twilight. “Is it okay if I borrow your bear pelt again?”

He turned to face you, opening one eye. “You cold?”

You nodded and he sat up to pull it out of his pack, leaning to drape over you. “There ya go, Darlin’.”

You felt the heat in your cheeks erupt, burying them under the pelt so he couldn’t see. You smiled, causing your eyes to squint up at him as you whispered a muffled thank you. He smiled down at you. “No problem, sugar.”

GOSH DARN IT TWI-

{3}

Nightmares were never easy, especially when they were about the troubles at home.

It was another night, another camp site. You had been startled out of your sleep, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Your throat was incredibly dry as you panted, forcing you to shuffled around your bag for your canteen. You took a sip of him, feeling the cool water wash down your throat, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself.

It was just a dream. Nothing more.

At least that’s what you hoped for.

You took a chance to look around you in the darkness. Everyone else was still asleep, except for the watch, who just so happened to be Twilight at that hour. You felt your body shaking in your attempt to calm yourself, but the cold wind was not helping you with that. Maybe you needed to get up and walk for a bit, clear your mind.

You slid out of your bed, standing up as quietly as possible as you wrapped yourself in your blanket and pulled your boots on. You did go for a small walk, taking in the surroundings draped in the darkness of night. Your eyes however, did catch a glint of the golden chainmail that Twilight wore. He was fairly close to the camp, leaving his back against the tree. You made your way over to him, trudging through the grass. It caught his attention and he quickly turned his head in your direction, cocking his eyebrow in surprise.

“What ‘re you doin’ up, darlin’?” He asked quietly.

You settled on the ground next to him, holding the blanket close to your body. “I had a nightmare.”

He looked at you softly. “Wanna talk about it?”

You looked up into his eyes again, feeling a tug at your heart. You gently sighed and told him what you dream was as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I just can’t get my mind off of home and what kind of havoc the Shadow has been wrecking there, who he’s hurt already. I’m worried to say the least.”

He wrapped his arm around you, keeping you close. He was warm and smelt like cedar, as always. You were thankful for the gesture, the shelter from the cool air. “I know how you feel.”

You leaned in closer to him, taking in the scent of him, allowing it to fill your lungs. You both sat there for a while, listening to the sounds of the forest surrounding you, every cirp of the bugs in the grass, watching the subtle glow of the fireflies. It was quiet, it relaxed you.

“Twi, is it okay if I stay here for the rest of your watch? I don’t want to be alone.”

You felt his grip around your shoulder tighten around you ever so slightly. “Go ahead, Darlin’. You’ll be safe with me.”

You moved in closer to him, melding into his side. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to slowly drift to sleep as he gently rubbed your arm. You felt safe in his presence, protected. It was just enough to help you fall back to sleep, where no nightmares plagued you again for the rest of the night.

{4}

Goddesses - it shouldn’t have happened like this!

Time carried Twilight into the inn while the others were still out dealing with the Shadow. You felt like your world was swirling around you, a cave collapsing in on you when you helplessly watched Twilight (who you now knew was Wolfie) get hit with an almost deadly blow by the shadow. Everyone was scrambling, no one had been seriously injured by the Shadow up to this point. If it hadn’t been for Time and Wars, you would have felt like you were drowning under the weight of what was happening.

You were quick to snap out of your trance of helplessness when Time addressed you, dragging you away with him. Someone had to stay by his side while someone else ran to get the healer and you were quick to find one while he stayed in the room with a bloodied and battered Twilight.

When you found the healer you quickly dragged them back to the inn, guiding them up the steps to his room, where they began to tend to him. You watched at their side, over their shoulder with Time, assisting with whatever the healer needed. You all made quick work of getting him cleaned up and the wound dressed, but the healer was unable to do anything more about it. He was stuck with the Shadow in his system, he was now going to have to fight it from the inside.

You knew the darkness must have been trying to wreak havoc in him, trying to break down his resolve, down to the very fiber of his being. When Hyrule and the others came back, they all offered up the potions they had, even Hyrule’s magic, but nothing worked, nothing could stop this.

It had been a long afternoon of worrying over his state, the rest of the Chain came in and out of the room at various occasions while you and Time primarily stayed by his side. But as the evening turned into night, you and Time had decided to take shifts watching him, to make sure someone was always there, just in case something happened.

During one of your shifts, you found yourself leaning against the edge of your seat, arms resting on your thighs as you watched him breath, noticing how shallow his chest rose and fell, how much paler he grew under the moonlight, as if the very life was being wrestled away from him, pulling it out of his grasp. You felt completely helpless to stop it, forced to watch his life slowly crumble and fade before your own eyes.

You wish you had said something before all of this, had confessed your feelings towards the one person who ever truly made you feel safe. Now he was dying in front of you and he would never truly know how much you cared about him, how much better you wanted to know him.

A shaken breath escaped you as you took his hand in yours. His hands were cold and clammy, but you held it close to you, trying to warm them up. You couldn’t help but feel the tears sting your dry and tired eyes as you looked down at him, a string of whispered words leaving your lips.

You weren’t one to pray to the goddess, but tonight was an exception. You quietly begged and pleaded with her to do something, anything to save him from a deadly fate.

But nothing happened.

It felt as if your prayers were falling on deaf ears, never seeing a change in his worsening state. Your tears were streaming down your cheeks by now, dropping down your chin to the edge of the bed as you sniffled. You pressed your lips to his knuckles, shaking as you whispered, “Twi, please keep fighting this. I don’t want to be without you. I love you.”

You felt his hand gently twitch in yours, almost as if he were about to hold it. You wondered if he heard your plea for him to keep fighting in his state. You continued to hold his hand for the remainder of your watch, keeping it close, hoping that he would know that you were there by his side, so he didn’t have to fight this alone.

{5}

Days had passed since the incident with the Shadow, and to everyone's surprise, Twilight pulled through. Although he was awake, he was still recovering from the draining efforts it took to fight off the Shadow that had attacked him from the inside, in need of lots of rest.

Everyone took their turns visiting him, the whole group of them gathering into his room at multiple points until he grew exhausted by the lively interactions of them all, his side hurting from the laughter they brought him with all of the timely dog jokes. You couldn’t help but smile, watching him from across the room, noticing the life return to him even more as the days went by, as he grew stronger again. You felt relieved knowing that he would be okay in the end, your worries easing over, hopefully to never return with another scare like that.

It was late into the evening when dinner occurred and you brought him some food from the dining area, taking the moment to sit with him in peace while the others were down stairs discussing Hylia know what. You sat there and discussed whatever came to your mind as well, talking about the mischief you’d gotten into with Legend in the town with the other merchants, trying to keep his spirits up with the fact that they scored some pumpkins for some delicious soup to be made the next night, but you could see he was lost in his own thoughts, that fire in his eye replaced with pensiveness.

When you were both done with the food, you placed the plates on the side table and looked at him. “You alright, Rancher?”

“Hm? Yeah, just thinkin’.” He replied

“Would you like to talk about it?” You asked, looking at him concerned.

“It’s just - it’s all been a lot, almost dyin’ an’ all. Everything hurt, I felt like I was being held underwater, struggling against a current, but It’s like I was aware of what was happenin’ around and unable to do anything. I felt completely helpless to stop it.”

You nodded, listening to him intently as he continued.

“Out of all of it I could still hear what was happening around me - I heard everyone’s concern for me. Did you and Time even leave my side?” He asked, “I didn’t need either of you gettin’ sick worryin’ ova’ me.”

You chuckled, “What can I say? We both care about you - everyone does.”

“Yeah, I know. You made that very clear. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you pray before.” He commented.

“I-I don’t.” You replied, looking down at your hands.

“So why’d you do it for me?” He asked

You let out a deep sigh before looking up at him again.“I felt like I was running out of options. You felt helpless to do anything, I felt helpless just watching you deteriorate. I might not be on the best of terms with any god, but I know Hylia favors you and the others. At the very least, I could make a plea for you, on your behalf.”

“So you meant every word of it?” He asked in return.

You nodded. “Every word.”

“Including the last bit - the part where you said you loved me?”

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise as he brought it up, realizing he truly had heard every whispered word. He chuckled at your reaction, noticing how embarrassed you grew by his statement. He took your hand in his, keeping his gaze on yours as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be shy, Darlin’. I just wanna know if it was true.”

You gently nodded, “Yeah. I meant every word.”

Twilight's face cracked into a smile at the sound of that. Even he looked away shyly for a moment before returning his gaze back to yours. “Well, this wasn’t the way I was intendin’ on tellin’ ya, but, considering everything that’s happened, there’s no time like the present. I feel the same about you.”

Your embarrassment turned to shocked relief, your eyes growing wider as you spoke up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

You gently squeezed his hand back, a smile growing on your face. Before you could even open your mouth to speak again though, one of the others came barging into the room to check on the two of you.

“Hey, how’s the food tast-“ Four stopped in his stead at the doorway when he noticed the two of you holding hands, his eyes bouncing around the scene before he finally asked, “Did you finally tell them?”

Twilight gave him a knowing look - don’t tell the others. Fours face lit up as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s about time! Looks like Wars won the bet though.”

You turned your head around so fast at the mention of the bet. “You all were betting on us?!”

Four gave a shy smile as he tried to steer his way out of the conversation. “Oh would you look at the time - I gotta go -“

With that he ran off back downstairs. You turned your gaze back to Twilight and shook your head with a laugh. “How long do you think we have until the others find out?”

“A minute, tops.”

You could already hear the shuffling of boots coming up the stairwell. Looks like five seconds was all it really took.

This was going to be a long, interesting night.

{6}

Another portal, another Hyrule, thankfully with another functioning Castle Town, which meant you got to stay in another inn.

You pulled Twilight up the stairs behind you, guiding him towards a room. With the Chain it was always fair game who got which room and you were hoping whichever one you chose had some decently comfy beds - and it did, but there was one problem.

There was only one bed.

You were half tempted to back out of the room, but you bumped into Twilight's chest as he moved past you into space, plopping his things down inside. You felt the heat flood your cheeks as your thoughts began to run with the idea of sharing a bed with him. You felt crazy - it’s not like you hadn’t shared a bed with him before, but you hadn’t done so since you both confessed your feelings for the other and actively became a couple.

Twilight turned to look at you, that sweet honey smile settled on his lips. He held out his hand to you, beckoning you closer. “Don’t be shy, Darlin’, c’mere.”

You made your way over to him, where he proceeded to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him. He gazed into your eyes as he leaned his head down, resting his forehead against yours. Every gesture of his made you melt even more as he held you.

“Finally, some peace and quiet -“

“Aawww!”

Twilight groaned at the sound of Sky’s voice coming from the doorway, turning his attention to him. “May I help you?”

Sky had a cheeky grin on his face at the sight of you two. “I’m sorry, you two just look adorable. Continue.”

You leaned in closer to Twilight, resting your head against his chest. “I know we do, but what did you need?”

Sky chuckled at your reply and gestured out the door. “Food will be ready soon, figured I’d inform you before Wind attempts to steal someone’s plate again.”

You chuckled, remembering how mad Wild was the last time that happened. “Thanks Sky.”

You two made your way downstairs after him to eat with the others, dodging the others incessant teasing with ease. As the evening drew on, all of you finally made your way to your respective rooms. You sat on the edge of the bed, resting back on your hands as you spoke with Twilight, watching him change out of his shirt to sleep. As he did, you could see the raised scars littering his skin, all of which gained from one battle or another, but you couldn’t get our eyes off of the one the Shadow left him.

It was different from the others, maybe because it was still fairly fresh compared to anything else. You felt your attention be drawn to it, seeing the fine black markings along it, knowing it wasn’t necessarily from an infection, but more because of the source of the one who wounded him. You couldn’t get the sight of him so pale and close to death out of your head, how easily you could have lost him that night.

Twilight noticed the change in your demeanor as you stared at it, stepping closer to you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “You alright, Darlin’?”

You brought your hand up over the scar, gently running your finger along the edges of it. “Does it still hurt?”

“Only occasionally, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” He reassured you.

You leaned closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss along the edge of it. He looked at you with surprise at how tender you were handling him. He smiled as you looked up at him.“Bein’ sweet on me now?”

You gave him a cheeky grin as you pulled him closer to you by his belt loops. “Maybe, but that’s because you’re as sweet as honey to me.”

He leaned down, moving his face in line with yours in the midst of his flirtatious interrogation, eyes caught on your lips. “Does that make you my honeybee?”

You tilted your head slightly, lips ghost over his own as you replied, “Well, you’re just too sweet to resist.”

You kissed him, gently at first, but he kissed you back with a much rougher touch, desperate to feel your lips on his. He snaked his hands up your neck to caress your face as your hands fell along his forearms. You felt his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, almost asking and begging to allow him to deepen the kiss. You would, but not until you had made your move first.

It took him by surprise as you pulled him down to the bed with you, wrapping your legs around his waist so he couldn’t escape you. You chuckled as his smile came back though, his lips finding their way to yours again, kissing you with a hungry fervor before trailing down your chin and neck, causing laughter to erupt from you as he found a ticklish spot at the crook of your neck. He chuckled as he gazed down at you once more, his voice coming out in a smooth low whisper. “I love you, honeybee.”

You smiled up at him, feeling the heat return to your cheeks once again. He always knew how to make you blush, how to send butterflies a flight within you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back to your lips once again. You could feel him relax against you, growing more comfortable with you by each passing second. When you finally had to pull away for air, you gazed up into his blue eyes, a smile on your face as you confessed.

“I love you too.”

[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts IV

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities, mentions of being kidnapped

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VII • Pt VIII

***

“Come on, slut, cum for daddy.” The rando spoke as he thrusted into you. You laid on the bed, not moving except from the occasional jump from his hard thrusts. Listen, you weren’t one for calling things stupid, lying or faking things. But the amount of times you’ve faked an orgasm tonight was hilarious. It’s been two hours of nothing but faking moans, whines, whimpers and orgasms. You couldn’t wait to leave, feeing stupid for even agreeing to have sex with this guy. Once he was finally done, you hurriedly put your clothes back on and gave him a quick smile before leaving. God, you really were a dumbass. The streets were dark, nothing but the street lights illuminating the road and sidewalk. Every sound you heard caused you to jump, it was never the safest option to walk home at 11 PM, fearing of being kidnapped or taken. You knew you weren’t gonna make it home without freaking out, so you walked into the nearest store, which just happened to be a flower shop. The scent of flowers and different herbs hit your senses like a truck. You walked around a little, curious about the beautiful blue flowers you saw.

“Blue hydrangeas, they symbolize remorse and regret.” You whipped your head around, seeing a pretty lady, thick curly hair with a green apron on, the worker. “You walked right to them, maybe it’s because something’s happened?” You paused, looking at the lady with slight shock in your eyes, “How did you…?”

“Honey, I work with flowers. Every flower in my shop has a story…just like you apparently.” You gave you a gap toothed smile, it was one of those rare smiles that filled your heart with joy. “Uhm, yeah…Sorry, I’ve had a rough night.” You smiled apologetically, turning to look at her. Eloise…what a fitting name, derived from ‘Helios’ meaning sun in Greek. “Well don’t keep me in the dark now! Tell me about it, hun.” She sat down behind a wooden table, making full bouquets, each one telling a story. You didn’t know why you felt the need to tell her what had happened, but she felt like someone to lean on. Catching her up about your night, Lindsay telling you to get dick, hooking up with some random guy, faking everything, even about Jungkook. You were now an open book to her, she chuckled, cutting off the bottom of the stems, “Sounds like your friend was just tryin’ to help, darling.” “I know, but I shouldn’t have listened. I’ve had experience like that in the past, I should’ve known.” You spoke quietly, looking down at the chrysanthemums on the table. “Listen to me, life is about experiences. Good or bad, they make you who you are. And you can’t let this man take control of your love life just because he hurt you. You gotta pull your pants up and find yourself a nice man that treats you right in life AND in bed.” She smiled up at you, giving you a knowing look. Blushing, you laughed, nodding your head. Maybe you should let Jungkook go. Yes, he’s hurt you in the past, but you can’t dwell on it. You sat with Eloise, watching her make bouquets, looking at the time you saw it was getting later than it already was. “I think I’m gonna head out…thank you, Ms Eloise.” You smiled, grabbing your bag and making your way to the door. “Honey, wait! Take this, I think it’ll help start your new story.” She smiled at you, handing you a bouquet. It was made up of hyacinths; representing young love, lilies and orchids; representing missing someone, daffodils; representing new beginnings and gardenias; representing secret love. You took the bouquet, smiling gratefully at her, waving and bidding your goodbyes, you left. *** The bouquet sat in a vase on your kitchen counter, standing full and tall, proudly almost. You stared at the luscious flowers, the bright colours illuminating your apartment. It seemed almost chaotic, the bouquet, so many colours, different flowers…it matched your life. There was so much chaos, yet it was so beautiful. You brushed it off, but the thought still in your mind as you got ready for bed. Brushing your teeth, your phone buzzed; it was Lindsay. Girl I trust🫶: Hey babes, I hope the hookup went well 😏 You: Yeah, I love faking everything for almost two hours Girl I trust🫶: OMG NOOO Girl I trust🫶: IM SO SORRY!!! You: Honestly, it’s okay, I met a nice lady that gave me flowers You: So something nice happened at least The both of you texted for a while, saying good night and heading to bed. Something about this whole night was itching away at you, almost as if you knew something was going to happen, but you didn’t know what. *** With two coffees in your hand, you walked down the street, it was a thank you gift to Ms Eloise for the flowers and listening to your currently fucked up life. You made it to the shop, it looked even brighter in the daylight, the flowers looking their absolute best just waiting to be put into someone else’s story. You tried to open the door, but it was hard when holding two coffees. “Let me get that,” You heard from behind you, someone opening the door for you. You turned to smile and say thank you, but remained stoic when you saw it was Jungkook. Don’t let him ruin your life. You gave him a tight lipped smile, “Thank you.” You walked into the shop, not saying anything else. The shop wasn’t busy, but you could see Ms Eloise behind that same wood table, making beautiful bouquets.

The little ring of the bell alerted her someone came in, she looked up and gave you her gap toothed smile. “Why, it’s lovely to see you again, darlin’!”  

“Hi, Ms Eloise.” You smiled back, walking further into the shop. “I got you this coffee as a gift for the flowers last night. I hope you like it!” 

She threw down her scissors, hands raising in happiness, “Ooo, honey, you don’t know how much this means to me. I absolutely love it, thank you.” She took the coffee carefully, sipping it and humming in delight. Ms Eloise looked past you, raising her brow, “Boy, I thought I told you to stop comin’ in here if you weren’t gonna get any flowers!” 

The deep chuckle, the one you knew all too well sounded through the shop. “Come on, Eloise, I was just helping this lovely lady open the door! Her hands were full and you know me, I love to help damsels in distress.” Jungkook walked further into the shop, leaning on the table beside you. 

“Oh honey, if you knew this one, you’d know she ain’t need any help from you.” She smirked at him, then looked to you, sipping her coffee.  

“Trust me, I know she doesn’t.” He looked over to you, glancing down your body, admiring the sundress you were wearing. 

You stood there stunned, “How do you know each other…?” It was almost like you’d been hit in the face with flowers.  

Ms Eloise laughs, grabbing a sunflower from the table in front of her. “He likes to pop in every once in a while to bug me, he’s like a pest that won’t get off my flowers! Only thing is, he never buys any.” She raised her eyebrow looking at Jungkook. 

He raised his hands up in defence, “I didn’t know there was a problem coming to say hello to friends!”  

“There ain’t, honey, but you could at least fill my pockets a little bit! The amount of times you walk in and never do anything is incredible!” Ms Eloise teased him, placing the flowers on brown wrapping paper.  

You couldn’t help but crack a smile at their playful banter, laughing a little as well. You talked with Ms Eloise for a little before deciding to head out, needing to get some errands done. You said goodbye and walked out of the shop, hearing your name being called. This time, you knew who it was and you turned around. “Y/N, where you going?” Jungkook asked as he walked to catch up with you. 

“Just running errands.” You spoke, your tone was no longer spiteful or hurt, but calm and more confident. 

He nodded, placing his hands in his pocket, staring at your eyes for a second too long. He looked to the street, seeing others walking around, shopping and talking. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with anything.” His voice was sincere, different from what you’ve heard from him before. 

You nodded, looking into his dark brown eyes, “Thank you, Jungkook…that’s very nice of you.” You both stood there, looking at each other, but not saying anything until you broke the silence. “I…I have some errands to get done, so I have to get going, but I’ll see you around.” 

“Alright, yeah. Have fun with your errands, Y/N.” He gave you a small smile, turning around to walk away, leaving you to walk your own way. 

How funny, you pictured the bouquet sitting on your counter, white tulips being the centre…forgiveness being the central part of your story.

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies

@junecat18

[strangerquinns]

Deadly Reunion | Chapter 4  

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 2.5k+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

Eddie’s arms tightened around you as he held you close against his frame. As your arms did the same, you could feel him shaking within your arms. You weren’t sure if it was the shock or excitement of him seeing you. But you knew that your mind and body couldn’t catch up with what was happening. After the long, tiring, and deadly journey to get back to Hawkins – you were finally back with him. The last piece of your old life that seemed to be left after all these years.

After a few moments, Eddie pulled back and grasped each side of your face. The rough calloused feel of his palms against your sun-kissed skin was oddly comforting. Your eyes closed for a few seconds, causing stray tears to cascade down your cheeks before they opened again. Staring intensely into his large doe eyes.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Eddie spoke, even with the bandana tied across his face, it was obvious to see him smiling. Especially with his dark eyes sparkling with a life that had been missing for a while.

“Fuck!” a deep voice groaned from behind the both of you.

Turning slightly to look over your shoulder, you saw the man you’d knocked down before stumbling up from the ground along with the assistance of the other woman. His hand cupped over his face with it scrunched up in pain. You took a few steps back away, stepping away from Eddie, as the man came to his full height.

Though these people were obviously with Eddie it didn’t mean you trusted them. The man before you had long, dark brown curls that nearly fell along his shoulders with sun-kissed strands of blonde through them. He was almost as tall as Eddie, possibly only a couple inches shorter. But larger when it came to his body, his shoulders spanning wider and his arms appearing bigger.

“Did you really have to fuckin’ hit me in the nose?” He spoke with another groan, pulling his hand away from his face. It took a few seconds to realize that it was none other than Steve Harrington. Your eyes widened to see another familiar face.

“Sorry, didn’t exactly know who you were,” You spoke with defensiveness to your tone. Eyes glared slightly as you looked back toward the former King of Hawkins High.

“Can’t blame the girl for defending herself, dingus,” The woman beside him spoke, rolling her eyes, before reaching up to pull down the cloth tied around the bottom of her face. Her hand reached out toward you quickly with a smile causing her blue eyes to sparkle with kindness, “Robin, Robin Buckley.”

Your guard slowed slightly as your attention moved away from Steve and toward Robin. You knew of her from high school but couldn’t exactly say that you knew her. She was from the band, and in your Science fifth period. You repeated your name to her as you firmly shook her hand.

“As much as this reunion is nice, we should be heading back to camp. The night is coming,” Nancy spoke, apprehensively looking toward you. “Hopper is going to be worried if we’re not back in time.”

You perked up slightly to the sound of a familiar, “The Chief?”

Eddie nodded his head, stepping up toward you again, hating that there was a small distance between you. He felt like he was in a vivid dream and at any moment you would be retaken from him.

“We have a camp about four miles from here,” Eddie spoke.

“Eddie,” Nancy scolded glaring toward him with wide eyes. She looked toward him for a long moment like they were silently communicating with each other. She gave her head a slight shake, it was subtle, but you didn’t miss it.

“You’re not thinking I’m leaving her out here do you?” Eddie spoke with a harshness to her voice.

“We don’t know if she’s got another camp, let’s not assume,” Nancy spoke with a tight voice. Steve and Robin standing on the sidelines of the conversation.

“I don’t” You answered quickly. Your eyes move from Eddie to Nancy. You didn’t miss the sadness that settled into Eddie’s eyes as he looked down at you. “I-I’m alone.”

“For how long?” Robin asked.

“A long time,” You spoke, body stiffening and signaling that was all the information that you were willing to give. Robin nodded her head, silently understanding.

“She’s coming with us,” Eddie emphasized again.

“She could be bitten or scratched.” Steve said, “We don’t know what we could bring back to Camp, Munson.”

“I’m not bit, and I’m not scratched.” You whispered with a shake of your head, already feeling a heavy sense of unwelcome settling over you.

That small bit of hope you’d felt before was quickly dwindling.

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t know you.” Steve spoke stepping toward you, Eddie quickly moving between you two. “We have a camp that has already been through enough, we don’t need a trespasser messing that up.”

“Steve,” Robin spoke firmly, moving toward him and standing beside Eddie. “Eddie knows her, and are you honestly going to leave someone out here alone? We both know you’d feel guilt the moment you walked away.”

Steve seemed to be having an internal fight with himself before he sighed deeply and shook his head. “Fine. But if Hopper says she’s out, you know you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

He was speaking to Eddie.

Eddie nodded his head before turning to look down at you, “Are you wanting to come back with us?”

You looked at him for a long moment, before answering, “I just traveled halfway across the country to find you, I’m not exactly letting you out of my sight any time soon.”

Eddie chuckled slightly before nodding his head and placing a hand gently on your shoulder. The two of you followed along behind the others heading north through the woods. With each step, your stomach fluttered with nerves.

“So, where did you travel from?” Robin asked after a long tense moment of silence between all of you.

You hesitated for a moment, before speaking, “Tennessee,”

“You were there this entire time?” Eddie asked, his stomach dropping at the thought of you only being a few states away this whole time.

A better outcome than what he’d believed all these years. That you were dead.

“No. My mom and I were in the south mostly. She had family there and thought it would be safer when the outbreak happened. But…we never made it. Instead ended up with a few different groups…traveling through Georgie, Alabama…last place was Tennessee. She wanted to come back home.”

You felt a ball form at the back of your throat as the thoughts of your mother came back to your mind. Over the last few months, you hadn’t given yourself the proper time to grieve her. Instead, focus on getting back to Hawkins and surviving.

A tense silence fell over you all again, a deep frown settling on Eddie’s lips. He could tell from your body language that something was wrong. But would wait for a more private moment to ask.

“You traveled through all that and hadn’t become a Flayed,” Steve spoke, his tone indicating his disbelief.

“Obviously,” You snapped.

“I think you’re pretty badass to make it this far on your own.” Robin smiled “Might be a piece to the group that we need.”

The rest of the walk was in tense silence as you all wadded through the forest that surrounded Hawkins. You were confused about where they were leading you, no longer expertly familiar with the town you’d grown up in. But when you came across the reinforced fence and the building came into view. You knew exactly where you were.

“You turned the Lab into an encampment?” You asked.

Eddie reached to pull down his bandana, giving a clearer view of his face. Seeing the shadow of a beard growing along his jawline. The years that you two have been apart showing with how grown he looked. It was the boy you’d fallen in love with still; you could see that with the cheeky smile, he’d give you. But with a cringle around his eyes that seemed to be more defined as he neared his thirties.

“Little bit more than a camp,” Eddie smirked, guiding you along the fence till you all rounded toward the front.

You quickly noticed the stations and boardwalk that aligned the top of the reinforced wall. People with guns strapped to their bodies paced along the lengths, clearly on patrol. The wall made it hard for you to see beyond that, except for the top of the old Lab building peeking over the top. Robin and Steve waved to a few people up on the wall as you all neared the front of the gate.

You stopped, along with the others, the moment you came to the large double doors that led into the camp. Standing at the top of the wall was a man that didn’t seem familiar. But with the way she glared down at you, he made your stomach roll.

“Seems you brought home a straggler,” The man spoke, his voice deep and heavy.

“She’s an old friend,” Eddie spoke quickly, the cheekiness gone, instead replaced with seriousness. “She’s alone and needs shelter.”

The man chuckled with false humor, “Hopper isn’t gonna like this.”

“I think once he sees who it is, Hopper isn’t gonna give much of a fight.”

The man grumbled slightly before nodding his head toward someone you couldn’t see. Soon the gates began to move with a loud mechanical sound that vibrated harshly against your eardrums. You cringed slightly and only moved when you noticed Eddie do the same. When you walked through the gates of the wall, you gasped loudly at what was in front of you.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasped with widening eyes as the rebuilt town was in front of you. “Y-You live in an Establishment?”

Eddie looked down at you with eyebrows pulled in confusion, “A what?”

“An establishment? A rebuilt town?” You spoke, “Never heard of those.”

“Obviously not, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled.

“My friend Judy told me she’s seen one before. People that had basically rebuilt and started over,” You spoke with amazement, “I thought she was bullshitting me.”

“It took us a while to get like this,” Eddie spoke, guiding you through and toward the main building. “Took apart some of the old homes and brought the supplies here so we could rebuild. Also moved trailers from Forest Hills to make room for homes, medicine, food storage.”

As Eddie spoke you were able to quickly see what he spoke of. The front lawn of the old Lab was filled with trailers, small buildings, and some tented-off areas. From the distance, you could hear the soft sounds of farm animals.

“Is that a sheep I hear?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled “Got ’em from the farms that were left abandoned. We have our own food, though we still must go on patrols and outings for other supplies.”

“This is amazing,” You spoke in shock and amazement, your head swiveling so much you were sure your neck would hurt the next day.

Steve led you all up the path and through the double doors of the Lab. The shock didn’t stop as you’d only noticed then the lights that filled the front lobby and surrounding hallways.

They had electricity.

Eddie laughed and brought his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him more, as he pulled you further into the lobby. “We use this building for housing, more medicine. The Lab was running off its own power source so that’s how we’re able to have electricity. Something shady must’ve been going on here before the outbreak, but it’s become our home…thanks to Hopper.”

“He’s in charge I’m guessing?” You asked.

Eddie nodded his head, “Pull anyone in town that started from the outbreak in. Fortified and built it everything you see from the ground up.”

“Munson!” a voice shouted from the end of the hallway.

The both of you turned your heads toward the source, you jumping slightly from the sudden loud noise. The man walking toward you was a man you were all too familiar with. Another father figure that was in your life growing up. Age had caught up to him with the gray of his hair and beard. But you’d know Jim Hopper even with it being over six years since you’d seen him last. Hopper stopped short the moment he seemed to recognize who was standing beside Eddie. His face paled as if he’d seen a ghost standing in front of him. But it quickly went away before he stalked toward you both.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hopper spoke as he neared closer.

“Chief,” You spoke with a nervous chuckle, “Long time no see.”

“I’ll fuckin’ say,” He nodded his head with a smile, “Where the hell have you been kid?”

“Long story,” You spoke, fighting the urge to rush toward him.

You might’ve known these people in the past, but times were different now.  

“Found her out on patrol,” Eddie spoke from behind you, “Didn’t think you’d give much of a fight if she were to find shelter here.”

Hopper shook his head with a heavy sigh, “No. Is it just you?”

You nodded your head, “Just me,”

Hopper frowned with a heavy sadness, seeming to understand what you weren’t saying at that moment.

“She’ll have to go through the quarantine process. We can’t blindly let someone into the Camp, no matter if we knew that from before or not.”

“Can’t we just examine and see that she’s not bit? She already swore she wasn’t.” Eddie spoke with a slight panic appearing in his tone.

You looked over your shoulder to Eddie with a slightly worried face.

“You know the rules, Eddie.” Hopper spoke, “We’ll take good care of her, you know this.”

Eddie hesitated for a moment, he was ready to argue more with the man standing in front of him. But he sighed heavily and nodded his head slightly, before stepping toward you more. He stood between you and Hopper, gently grabbing your hands, and bending down so his eyes were more level with yours.

“I’ve to say goodbye for now,” Eddie spoke softly, causing you to stiffen slightly. “But not for long.”

“Eddie,” You whimpered, a fear coming over you that you didn’t understand.

“Shh, shh…it’s ok. I promise. Do you trust me?” Eddie asked, his eyes looking deeply into yours.

You nodded your head before swallowing down the fear that was itching up your throat. Eddie hesitantly stepped away from you, suddenly bringing Hopper back into view along with two others.

Your stomach rolled again knowing why the fear was approaching. But though you were back in your hometown surrounded by a few you know. You were essentially in an unknown place, putting your trust in others. Something you hadn’t had to do for a while.

“Let’s go, kid,” Hopper spoke, before turning and leading you down the hall toward the unknown.

Hope you all enjoyed the next chapter. The reader is in the camp with Eddie, but there are still some things they will have to get over. Leave your thoughts!

reblog + like if you enjoyed it!

[joeyalohadream]

Modern AU Clegan Fic Attempt

I haven't written anything in years but these men inspire me so I'm dusting off the cobwebs. Here's a short fic I panic wrote and posted. Featuring Health Teacher/Baseball Coach Bucky and Substitute Teacher/Waiter Gale! (Also, sick! Buck, worried! Bucky)

- - - - - -

The coffee from the teacher’s lounges archaic machine is bad enough for John to consider giving up his caffeine addiction. He grimaces as he takes a sip and turns away from the counter to scan the small room.

Croz and Bubbles are sharing the loveseat, no doubt discussing the upcoming theater production when they should be discussing midterms. He smiles at them as they look up and catch his gaze. They know he’ll be the last one to tell them to focus on the academics rather than the extra-curriculars.

His first and second period Health classes are over and he’s free from the classroom until the final period of the day. Extra-curriculars are his forte after all. This quick pit-stop in the lounge before heading to his true domain in the gym offices to meet with Rosenthal to discuss this evening’s baseball game is still a necessity.

He ignores the attempted eye contact from all the other staff he can feel on him as the door to the lounge opens and in walks Bucky’s necessity for standing in this uncomfortable room, drinking the equivalent to muddy water.

Bucky pushes his weight off the counter as soon he sees that beautiful head of blonde hair push through the heavy oak door. His favorite substitute teacher, best friend and soon to be something much more if he has any say in it walks into the lounge at the same time each morning, and today is no exception.

They met at the end of last school year, spent the summer becoming friends and have been on four dates in the last three weeks. Bucky is smitten and everyone knows it. Well, everyone but Gale, but Bucky is slowing but surely showing him that he’s worth a damn.

Bucky watches as Gale looks around the room, taking in his surroundings as he does in every new space he walks into. It takes only a moment for those blue eyes to meet his and Bucky is still blown away by the relief and happiness he sees shine through them when Gale finds him each day.

Bucky smiles and Gale smiles back as they meet at the table between them. There is a pinched expression to Gale’s face that he isn’t accustomed to seeing, especially at work, but he does earn himself his favorite fond eyeroll when he rushes forward to pull the other’s chair out for him like a proper gentleman.

Gale takes a seat and leans forward, hunching over the table.

“Good morning sunshine,” Bucky greets with a smile.

“Morning John,” Gale returns. That low rumbling voice always gives Bucky a good start to his day, but today it seems rougher.

One of his favorite pastimes nowadays is looking at Gale, so he takes the opportunity to do so now. He takes in his hunched posture, the slight furrow between his brows and notices a slight flush to his cheeks. One of his other favorite pastimes is making the other blush, but nothing in this morning’s interaction warrants that reaction. Concern rushes through Bucky immediately and he leans into Gale’s space.

“Buck,” he keeps his voice low, knowing that Gale hates unwarranted attention. “Are you feeling alright?”

Bucky watches as a myriad of expressions crosses Gale’s expressive blue eyes. Surprise, confusion, fear for a moment before it’s hidden away, and finally fondness. It breaks Bucky’s heart how easily shocked Gale is by the evidence that someone cares about him enough to show it.  

“Yeah, I’m okay John,” Gale replies, voice still too rough for Bucky’s liking, and that’s saying something because he loves Gale’s low timbre. “Stomach isn’t feeling the best still, but I’m alright.”

Last night, Gale had cancelled their dinner plans because of a stomach ache and Bucky had thought nothing of it, especially after he and Gale had made up for the missed date by staying up late talking on the phone until they both fell asleep. Now though, Bucky thinks something of it.

“I don’t think a tummy ache is supposed to last 24 hours,” he informs the other and gets another one of his favorite eye rolls in return for his childish word choice. He reaches forward and sets his hand on Gale’s forward and feels a little too much heat there before his hand is batted away. “And they’re definitely not supposed to give you a fever, Buck.”

The seriousness of his tone makes Gale hunch further in his seat and stare at the table and Bucky has grit his teeth for a moment before he begins again. He reaches across the table and places his hand on Gale’s arm, letting his thumb stroke the joint of his wrist.

“Buck if you’re sick,” he begins in his most soothing voice, “it’s okay to take the day. Better than okay, honestly.” He watches Gale swallow and shake his head a fraction before finally retuning his gaze. Bucky has to school his expression to avoid reacting overtly to the pain he sees in the other’s eyes. He just can’t tell if it’s physical or stemmed from memories of whatever happened to make him think he doesn’t deserve any kindness or care when he’s feeling under the weather.

“Please Buck,” John implores. “You have one class to sub this afternoon and its band. You don’t even play an instrument; they won’t miss out on your genius teaching like the math and science kids would.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, “How do you know that?”

“That you don’t play instruments? Gale, you can’t dance for shit, you have no rhythm. You think I’d believe you have a musical bone in your body?” Bucky teases.

Gale scoffs quietly, but it turns into a grimace, and he presses a hand to his side. Bucky frowns.

“No,” Gale says, and Bucky is ready to protest, before Gale continues. “How do you know that’s my only class today?”

Bucky smiles and would feel sheepish for his response, except for the fact that he is completely smitten with Gale Cleven and feels no need to hide that fact since everyone already knows.

“Well, you told me last night and I remember literally every word you speak to me,” he smiles as Gale ducks his head and he see’s the hint of that shy smile he loves. “And I check your schedule on the Teacher Portal online every morning so that I can accidently run into you in the hall every now and then.” He finishes with a wink that has Gales’s cheeks blooming even more crimson.

“You’re ridiculous John,” Gale tells him, looking at him from under his lashes and John wants to take him home, bundle him up, spoon feed him soup and rub his belly.

“And you’re sick, Buck.” He fixes Gale with a look that can only be described as mixed with worry and fondness. Gale returns the look, assessing him for a moment before letting out a sigh and Bucky knows he’s won.

“Okay John, I’ll go talk to Principal Harding and head home for the afternoon.” Bucky can tell that Gale is disappointed in himself for a perceived failure and he feels that familiar ache in his chest he gets often when he gets glimpse into Gale’s complicated history. But he is happy he seems to have won this battle.

Until Gale’s words register, and he lowers his eyebrows to give Gale an assessing look. Gale looks back innocently, hand once again pressed to his side, looking like he’s working up the momentum to stand.

“Head home for the afternoon, huh?” Bucky questions. Gale meets his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to have a shift at Curt’s tonight, would you? Because you definitely didn’t mention that last night.”

Gale rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. “Ham had to call off because his mom is real sick. I just got the text an hour ago and agreed to cover.”

“Well un-agree. No need to be waitin’ tables when you’re real sick too Buck,” Bucky states.

He receives a frown, in return. “I’m not sick, I just don’t feel well,” Gale clarifies.

Bucky guffaws and shakes his head. “You’re in pain, you have a fever and your voice is shot to shit. What’s the damn difference Gale?” He can’t manage to keep the frustration out of his tone, but he does try.

Gale makes himself smaller in his seat and Bucky hates himself a little. He squeezes Gale’s hand and is rewarded with a palm turned and grasping his. “I’ll go home.” Gale mutters. He looks up at Bucky for a moment and moves to stand.

Bucky moves with him, especially when he sees him grit his teeth as he straightens out his lean torso. His hands hover but Gale looks pointedly at the clock on the wall and shakes his head. “You better get going, Rosie is probably waiting on you to talk strategy for your game against the polka dots tonight.”

He gives Bucky a small smile that makes him feel less like he fucked this all up. He glances around the lounge and sees that they don’t have much of an audience, so he reaches up and cups Gale’s cheek, smiling when Gale leans into the touch.

“Please call Curt and tell him you can’t come in tonight,” he strokes the too warm cheek and wishes he could follow Gale home and take care of him. “I’ll call you when the game is over tonight, and I’ll come by with some soup.”

Gale looks a little surprised by his words and there’s that flare in Bucky’s chest again, but he pushes it aside and smiles at this beautiful man. Gale’s eyes soften and he gets one of his favorite shy smiles in return.

“Sure, Bucky.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

They’re at the bottom of the eighth inning when Bucky finally gives in to the urge to check his phone. He hasn’t heard from Gale since well before the game began when the other had informed him that he was going to lay down for a bit.

Now John has spent the last few hours worrying and hating that he’s worrying, but also loving that he gets to worry about Gale; because what else could be a better use of his time than worrying about the most beautiful, sweet, gentle human being he’s ever met.

He pulls his phone out of his bag, and it only takes a few seconds to feel the disappointment that he hasn’t received any new messages or calls from Gale. That disappointment is immediately replaced by confusion and then worry when he realizes that he has half a dozen missed calls from Curt.

There’s one text from Curt that clenches his gut and has him signaling to Rosie that he needs to make a call:

Curt: Call me ASAP asshole, its blue eyes.

Curt calls Gale blue eyes, and Bucky can’t breathe for a moment. He has the phone to his ear and it takes three rings for Curt to answer.

“Bucky!”

“Biddick!”

Bucky groans as they speak over each other.

“Is something wrong with Buck?! What’s going on?!” Bucky breathes through his nose and clenches the phone. Curt’s heavy accent comes though immediately and he sounds flustered.

“Bucky, thank god! I tried calling yous’ a million times!” Bucky rolls his eye because six is not a million but relents. “Buck came in to serve for Ham tonight but he wasn’t lookin’ to good, you know. I tried to send him home but he gave me those puppy eyes and said he really needed the money, so I let him go on the floor.”

Bucky closes his eyes and runs a hand through his curls, frustrated and at a loss for what to do about his man. Gale makes him feel so much without even trying.

“Let me guess,” Bucky says into the receiver. “He couldn’t get a tray of drinks out to one table before you had to send him home.”

He hears Curt take a breath and waits for the confirmation that he needs to stop by the grocery store and the pharmacy before heading to Gale’s and possibly call off work tomorrow to play doctor in a very un-fun literal sense.

“Look Bucky, I don’t know how to say it, so Imma just say it,” Curt says. Bucky takes a sharp breath and feels panic in his chest. “He’s too damn good at pretending he’s okay when he ain’t. Give him a fuckin’ Oscar. He served for over two hours before he finally threw up and then passed out in the walk-in cooler. Yous coulda cooked an egg on his forehead, Bucky, and he wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did. Ambulance took him to St. Pete’s over an hour ago.”

Bucky can’t breathe.

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Um.. can I get jealous Devil and King Dice from the cuphead show?

A/N: Oh, Anon, you are playing a dangerous game here.

Jokes aside, this was a fun little challenge to work with. These versions of KD and the Devil are a stark contrast from their game counterparts, so hopefully I managed to capture their essence here! Also, I had run with the assumption that this had leaned towards a “x Reader” route. If you had wanted something else, feel free to shoot me a message to let me know!

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Jealous! King Dice hcs:

Jealousy is an emotion King Dice is all too intimate with. 

However, he’s usually on the receiving end of it. Not that he could blame them. He’s a star; beautiful to admire, and just always out of reach. He’s handsome, charismatic, talented, etc. It wasn’t all uncommon for him to have men and women alike fawn over him, much to the ire of their lovers. 

Not that he had cared, of course. To King Dice, it was nothing more than a game; a spectacle for him to sit back and observe, a wry smirk on his face as he struggles to fight back laughter. It’s simultaneously an ego boost and a power trip wrapped in a pretty green package.

The die has been doing it for so long that he had thought himself immune to it; completely confident that he’s the master of that old snake of jealousy.

….So why does watching you smile and laugh with another man in the crowd annoy him to no end? 

Heat flooded Dice’s chest as he watched the man whisper something in your ear. You mutely gasp, playfully slapping at the stranger’s shoulder as you cover your mouth to hide your smile. 

The sight is enough to make him falter. So much so that he had missed his cue, forcing him to cough into a gloved fist; scrambling to maintain a mask of professionalism. However, as he catches that mook turning over to you, eyes gleaming with mirth, King Dice felt his smile grow strained.

King Dice fights to continue on as normal, desperate to ignore the ever growing tightness in his chest. His gaze trails back towards you periodically, the pressure in his chest growing worse as he fights against the urge to mean mug the guy next to you. 

No, he isn’t jealous, Dice silently tells himself.  He just doesn’t like the look of that sleazebag near you. Not to mention that he’s the one hosting this game show– your eyes should be on him. 

It doesn’t take long for King Dice to eventually snap and invite the stranger flirting with you to come roll the dice.

Once he does, the usual banter Dice has with guests becomes barbed. So much so that the audience can’t tell if the die’s remarks are genuine. The moment the poor sap successfully got past the final round, King Dice didn’t hesitate to shove him towards the “prize” room. 

Perhaps it’s childish of him to behave this way. This wasn’t very becoming for a man of his caliber; cool and collected with the dry wit to back it up. 

Not that King Dice had actually cared about that. He’s too drunk off the satisfaction of seeing the hollow shell of that little shit out in the alleyways.��

Whenever he’s confronted about it, however, Dice tries to shrug it off. He’s quick to lay down the charm– desperate to find a way to talk his way out of it. He’d die of embarrassment if you ever found out.

Jealous! Devil Hcs:

Throughout history and countless works of art, the Devil was considered the embodiment of sin. Pride, wrath, greed– you name it. The demon is all too familiar with it. So, naturally, it’s safe to assume envy could be found in his repertoire. 

Much like his right hand man, the Devil, too, thought himself above trivial jealousy. He’s the Devil– king of the underworld and is equipped with all the magic and power anyone could ever want. There’s nothing he could ever get jealous about. 

And if he is– no he isn’t. He’ll deny, deny, deny until he’s blue in the face. Then the demon would go brood in his office, a cigar in hand while he silently glares at the wall; ears occasionally twitching in annoyance. 

Any imps on duty are quick to steer clear and lay low. Even if their hands ache and their eyes burn in their overworked state, they’ll happily endure it for another century if it meant that they could avoid the wrath of the Devil.

Unlike King Dice, however, the demon has zero qualms about lashing out. If his loyal right hand wasn’t safe, then heaven forbid what’d happen if someone dared try to steal you away from him. 

Your lover is a possessive man. If he had it his way, he’d keep you in a gilded cage for him alone. However, as vile he is, the demon isn’t without his reasons. A small yet vocal part of him is afraid. Afraid that you’d one day leave him for someone else.

He is not any easy man to love, neither was he kind. And yet being with you has coaxed out the softer, squishier parts of his soul; baring them for you to embrace or break. The Devil wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but he’d be distraught if he ever lost you.

So when that green-eyed monster called jealousy rears its ugly ahead, the Devil is ready to stake his claim on you. At first, he’ll attempt to be subtle about it. He’ll loom behind you, fur bristled and glaring daggers at the poor soul you’re talking to. Whenever you turn around, the demon would look away– half-heartedly pretending to look disinterested while his tail snakes itself around your leg. 

However, the minute your unwanted suitor grows bolder, all bets are off. Flames engulf the scene as panicked bystanders scatter like mice. You arrive to find your lover pinning the poor sod to the wall, the prongs of his trident dangerously close to their neck. 

By the time you’ve gotten him to calm down, the Devil’s already stolen their soul and is ready to drag you to his office caveman style. Once you’re alone together, the demon becomes clingy and broody as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck; clutching onto you tightly, afraid you would disappear. 

Please cuddle and reassure that you love this prideful man… He genuinely needs it.

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[v3nusxsky]

Hello! Hope all is well hun! Love your agere stories so much! Was hoping to request one!

Enid goes to Larissa curiously since they haven’t seen teacher reader all morning and skipped morning classes. Reader is in their room and they’ve regressed without realizing after having a rough week. You can put you’re own twist to it

Struggling baby?| Agere

*Authors note~ I didn't know how much I needed this until I started to write it. Thank you for the prompt*

Trigger warnings~ Agere little r momma l

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

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You were the potions teacher at Nevermore Academy, all while dating the one and only Larissa Weems. You had your past, just like everyone else, but your methods of with that were ones you didn't want anyone to know about. You feared they would judge you, after all it was unusual for an adult your age to regress. Well truthfully it shouldn't matter but you knew first hand how cruel people could be.

Larissa was wonderful when she accidentally found out by catching you in your little state. You'd created a potion for that allowed you to look younger giving the regression a more realistic feel for you. It was rare that you used it though, only on particularly stressful slips. You had no care giver which made slipping harder until Larissa found you. She took you under her wing, immediately reassuring you that it was okay and you were safe. She knew your past and if this was how you coped then she would do her best to support you. That was the day your little found your momma.

Larissa hadn't heard from you since you her office this morning, she knew you'd have a busy schedule today so it wasn't too much of a concern. But just before your last lesson before lunch, the blonde, haired blue and pink ends wearwolf, came knocking on her door. "Miss Sinclair shouldn't you be in potions now?" She murmured sparing a quick towards the young girl. "Principal Weems, yes but miss Y/l/n hasn't shown up and I thought you should know. Has class been cancelled?" She pondered.

That was most peculiar. You'd never not attended without informing Larissa and you always had a good reason why. So unfortunately Larissa had no reason to give the young girl. "Take it as a study period Enid, I'll go check on Miss Y/n now. Thank you for letting me know." Larissa informed as she stood in to leave alongside the student.

Larissa quickly made her way to your room, her first port of call. Her mind conjuring up all the possibilities for why you teaching your lessons. How long had you not been at work? What if you were hurt or really sick? But there had been none of your warnings signs for regression so she hadn't thought it would be a possibility until she laid eyes on you.

"Precious girl are you little right now?" She murmured coming in the room to crouch down next to you. There you sat scribbling on some paper in a variety of colours only to look at her with tears in your eyes and nod. "Need be indapendant" you stated as if it was a matter of fact. "Baby, momma is here you don't need to be independent" she reassured opening her arms to you as an invite. "Cuddl?" You whimpered to your momma as she nodded with a smile. She doesn't think you've ever moved quicker than you did now, scrambling to clamber into her lap, nose nuzzled into her neck.

After a few moments there with Larissa stroking through your hair, "momma?" You whispered catching her attention. "Mm precious girl?" She hummed. "I pic you?" You stated happily flying off her lap to grab it and proudly bring it to you. There you proceeded to point and babble of your drawing, a drawing you thought was a very flattering picture of your momma. "That's brilliant pretty girl. Momma is very proud, how about I put it on my desk?" She murmured as you smiled so brightly nodding your head in agreement.

"Wuvs you we gets snack?" You mumbled pointing to your belly. Larissa would do absolutely anything for you, so if you wanted a snack you'd get a snack. She may not know why you've regressed so quickly, clearly you had no clue either, but she'd care for you with just as much love and care as she always did.

Word count~ 749

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

2023 Fic Round Up (Part 2: Fic Quotes)

For favorite lines, I tried to choose quotes that may have less visibility—maybe they haven't made it into a tumblr post or the summary, but I love them all the same. To make this easier for myself, I'm limiting this to quotes from my three published works that I'm the most proud of, plus the two WIPs that I've worked on the most recently.

Presented in reverse chronological order, I present fic quotes:

Unnamed Porn Star x Filmmaker AU

I literally wrote both of these as I outlined two days ago, so they have not reached their Final Form. Also, Smut Warning.

Alex is jealous of the wax. An inanimate object. For being spread across another man’s body. He’s pretty sure he’s completely lost his mind.

Moments later, Henry comes all over Basil’s hand as he uses it to stroke Henry, coating the deep blue wax that’s slowly hardening on his dick. A completely fucking mess. Alex wants to get his mouth on it.

Honey, You're Familiar (From My Mirror Years Ago) aka the Dads Fic

I've shared a lot of my favorites, but I don't know if I've shared this—pretty prose has never been a strength of mine, so I'm pretty proud of this:

June glances up at Henry, studying him for a moment. He wonders what she sees, if she can tell that he’s a crystal vase filled with a bouquet of emotions—absolutely transparent and if nudged too hard, the carefully crafted container might just crack apart, contents spilling out, shattering all remnants of what might have once been construed as beautiful.  An unavoidable mess. The hyacinths, taking up most of the space, for regret and remorse. Tulips, a bit hopeful, for forgiveness. Purple lilac, stubbornly wedged in the mix from the first moment Alex flashed his smile at Henry, for love at first sight. He thinks maybe June does catch a glimpse of the blossoms, because the next thing he knows, her eyes face softens a bit, and she’s turning back to face her cousins with her hand pressed against Henry’s back. It’s not the touch of the Claremont-Díaz sibling he craves, but it still settles him somehow, even before she speaks.

(Dil)Do It Yourself 

Chapter 1

“Pez, like the candy?” Alex blurts out. He doesn’t have much of a filter on a good day, but hot people make his porous coffee filter turn into a goddamn colander.

Also Chapter 1

"If I find that you have somehow managed to muck it up, how should I plan to contact you?” Alex grins back at Henry. He has no fucking clue why this British elf who speaks like a Victorian orphan and looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein photoshoot has him thinking about getting a second apartment key made, but here he is. Mentally googling routes to his nearest hardware store. “Well, usually, when it’s for business I just give out my fax,” he drawls, unable to contain his smile as he gets to the second half of his sentence. “But since I’m fairly interested in mixing this with pleasure, I guess I can share my cell number.”

Soft stuff before the less soft stuff in Chapter 3

What he’s absolutely not prepared for is the look on Henry’s face when he spots Alex entering the shop—like Alex just saved babies from a burning building or cured cancer or something. It’s way too fucking much when Henry doesn’t even know about Alex’s coffee addiction or the way he incessantly taps his foot when he’s focused or how Alex accidentally interrupts people when he starts getting really passionate in a debate. Maybe Alex can accept that Henry’s into his jokes or his smile or his dick. But basically, Henry hasn’t learned about all the other stuff that comes with spending an extended period of time around Alex. He’s not getting his hopes up. Except when Henry smiles, and softly greets him with “I missed you,” Alex absolutely gets his hopes up.

Claremont 2008 

Both of these are from the final chapter of the fic:

Henry’s sitting at his desk, a heavily annotated Norton’s Anthology of Poetry propped open to his left, a notebook full of beautiful, neat cursive laid open to his right. The soft glow of his lamp warms the small space, coupled with the changing light from the window as the early sunset fills the room with an orangey light that makes Henry appear golden, like he’s been blessed by Apollo, or Helios, or some other sun god.

Finally arriving at their door, Henry unlocks it for the first time, the movers having finished up while the two of them went over to pick up a nametag for their new roommate. After taking a few steps down the hall, they enter into a cozy living room already filled with both their book collections and their family photos all jumbled together. The Lightning Thief sits next to Pride and Prejudice like they’re two puzzle pieces aligning, a photo of Henry and Arthur on a sailboat hangs next to one of Alex sitting on his abuela’s lap: two homes side by side. 

Freaky Friday (I woke up in my enemy's body) 

Alex waxing poetic about Shaan's ass

“You can, er , go,” Alex directs him, though it comes out like more of a question. Apparently it was effective enough, though, because the guy exits, and the phrase “hate to see you go, love to watch you leave” pops into his mind when he gets a view of his ass strutting out of the room in that suit.

The Great Dick Soliloquy

Eventually, and to Alex’s great shame, he gives in. He just has to know, okay? It’ll just be a brief glimpse, he assures himself. Alex is not kidding when he says that he took one glance at Henry’s dick and it changed his life. He really did intend on it being a brief glimpse.

Thank you to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @firenati0n @anincompletelist for the tags!

Sorry if I missed one of y'all doing this, tagging @littlemisskittentoes @ssmtskw @affectionatelyrs @read-and-write- @matherines @rockyroadkylers!

To see all my 2023 fics in Part 1, click here.

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 5 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Class starts in 15 minutes. First period is History of Magic- should be easy to find, right? After all, Vil made sure to give all of Pomefiore easy access to a map of the school. First floor, somewhere on the left...is this it? The room numbers match up.

The room is about half full. The paper says we have assigned seats, but it doesn't say where those seats are, so... where the hell do I sit?

"Grim... where's our seat?"

"Says we're in seat 34... so, third row, fourth seat?"

Counting the seats, we take our spot and hope for the best. Soon after we remove our notebook, textbook, pencil case, and folder, a boy with dark blue hair and an upside-down black heart on his face bursts into the room, panting heavily. The red color of his vest indicates that he's a Heartslabyul, but I can't tell if he's in the right room or not.

"Myaah? Hey, are you in class A?"

"Yes," the boy pants out, "seat 24... I'm not late, am I?"

"Nope! You're right in front of us."

The boy looks up, seemingly suprised at the sound of my voice. Our eyes meet- his are a beautiful, bright cyan. He'd fit right in at Pomefiore, at least visually.

"Wh...what?"

"We're in seat 34. Your seat is right in front of ours."

"Oh, okay." He looks grateful now, jogging to his seat and turning around to reach us.

"Ah, Deuce Spade- it's a pleasure to meet you!"

He sticks out his hand. I shake it.

"I'm Yuu- Y-u-u, not y-o-u."

Grim follows suit and sticks out his paw. Deuce takes a moment to catch on, but he does.

"And I'm Grim! Pleasure to make your acquaintance. "

Deuce looks relived, but that look soon turns to panic when he hears someone much older behind him.

"We are still missing someone."

A panicking #24 sits down quickly and puts his stuff down. The man- who is probably Professor Trein- lets the door shut behind him, but someone catches it. Another Heartslabyul, by the looks of it.

"Hey, teach! I'm on time, right?"

"Hey, Yuu! That's Trappola, from the entrance ceremony," Grim whispers. "He's claustrophobic. "

I laugh quietly. "That he is, Grim. That he is."

To Spade's horror, Trappola plops down right next to him, in seat 25.

"Heya! Nice to meet'cha. I'm Ace."

Deuce is visibly horrified. "I'm Deuce Spade. Please try not to be late in the future. "

Entrance Ceremony Claustrophobe scoffs. "What's up your ass this morning?"

Grim raises his paw. Trein calls on him. "Yes, Grim?"

"Trappola just asked Spade what's- and pardon my language- 'up his ass this morning.' It's distracting."

Now it's Trappola's turn to look horrified. Deuce, taking the opportunity, raises his hand. "I can confirm that. I can also add that he said that in response to me asking him to try to be on time more."

Trein looks pissed. Trappola looks terrified. I raise my hand, ready to put the final nail in the claustrophobe's coffin-box. Trein calls on me.

"I can confirm that both Spade and Grim are telling the truth." Trappola is very pale. He should get more sun. And more time management skills, but that's been pretty obvious for a few minutes at this point.

Trein's cat meows, and Claustrophobe's fate is sealed.

"Trappola, see me after class."

Deuce, Grim and I smile. Time to learn.

The rest of class goes by without a hitch. Ace's detention is that he has to wash all of the chairs in the classroom after school. Fitting, I think.

Deuce walks with me and Grim to alchemy. Crewel seems strict, but kind, so long as you stay in line. We don't brew anything just yet- big whoop, first day- but we do get a lot of notes. Deuce is turning out to be e great friend, too! He's an honor student, recovering delinquent, and generally great guy- Vil would approve. He doesn't look like he has much of a skincare routine, though.

The big thing happens during Phys Ed. Grim and I faint during the laps- Vil is going to be pissed when he hears about the lack of water- and Deuce is the one to single-handedly carry us both to safety, and then the nurse's office. Apparently, we already lacked energy. Oh, well. Nothing eventful occurs until lunch.

Back at Pomefiore dorm, where lunch is free, Rook stops to talk to us.

"Monseur Mystery, Monseur Chat! I heard you fainted today?" The concern in his voice sounds real.

"Yeah... the nurse says we already lacked energy."

"And we weren't drinking enough water. There's that too, Grim. "

"Why weren't you?" Vil sounds rather intimidating right now.

"Myaah, no water bottle."

Vil just sighs.

[legolasghosty]

Hello, I heard you say that people don't send you many asks anymore, that needs to be changed immediately!!

Can I request a high school au with sticky notes? Something short and fluffy?

Okay, love you, byeeee!!! 💖💖💖

Gentlepeople of the world, may I present my lovely fiance? I love you so muchhhh! Thank youuuu! And yes of course you may! I love me some sticky notes!

Willie catches one glimpse of Julie on her way to class and reaches for the pad of sticky notes in their backpack. Her hunched shoulders and oversized blue and black flannel(probably Ray's) illustrate how she's feeling more than any words could. No time to catch her in the passing period, but he can probably get to her locker before she does after history.

They slide into their seat just as the bell rings. Reggie shoots him a smile from his spot a few seats over. Willie returns it, and doesn't miss the big A written at the top of the quiz Mr. Hood hands him a minute later. Willie's only has a B+, but he's happy with it. Mr. Hood starts talking about some club thing after that, so Willie sets his pad of sticky notes down just inside their desk to write. They have a few to write since this morning.

A hype up note for Julie, along with a dumb joke to make her smile on her bad day.

A good luck note to Carrie for her dance performance this afternoon.

A congrats note to Reggie for his history grade, which Willie knows he worked hard for.

A reminder to Luke that they're all doing dinner at the Molinas' tonight, cause he always forgets that kind of thing.

Willie's not sure when exactly it became A Thing, them writing notes to their friends and leaving them in their lockers throughout the day. His dad is probably to blame for the start of it. Caleb started putting notes in his lunchboxes less than a year after Willie had come to live with him. Usually reminders about appointments or best wishes for tests, but sometimes they just said "I love you" in the magician's curly, elegant handwriting.

So when Willie finally made friends, it only made sense to start writing the same notes to them.

He carefully folds the notes and tucks them into his pocket for later. As fun as it would be to ask for a bathroom pass and just happen to pass all his friends' lockers on the way, they'd gotten in trouble for that a couple of times already this year. He should probably try and pay attention.

After class finally ends, they dart out of the room. He's not sure he'll be able to get everyone before they reach their lockers, but he's certainly going to try.

When he's finished and stops for a second at his own locker, Willie is greeted by Alex's soft smile as the drummer leans against his own locker. Willie doesn't dare press his own lips against Alex's, they aren't really out as a couple at school, but they return his grin and brush their fingers against his on the way to his locker handle.

"How was history?" Alex asks.

"Same old," Willie responds with a shrug. "Bunch of straight white guys making up rules and ruining everyone else's lives."

"Youch, sounds like fun," Alex says sarcastically just as Willie swings his locker open.

Willie steps back, startled, as a bunch of slips of paper fall out of their locker. They're all little squares, uniform in size if not in color. And now they're on the floor all around their feet.

"Whoops," Alex mutters, dropping to his knees and starting to gather the papers.

Willie quickly joins him on the floor and scoops up a few of the slips. It takes the two of them a minute to gather them all. Just as they finish, the bell rings.

Alex swears under his breath and hands his stack of paper to Willie. "I gotta get to class, sorry," he says, offering a smile before hurrying off.

Willie stuffs the papers into his back pocket and slams his locker shut. At least he's already close to their English classroom. A quick dash later, he's sliding into his seat just as the teacher calls his name for roll call.

With trying to pay attention in class and not get distracted by the spring leaves on the tree outside, Willie totally forgets about the papers until study hall, his last period of the day.

They shift in their chair for the millionth time, trying to get comfortable. Their pocket just feels weird underneath him. Willie reaches back to make sure some old receipt didn't end up in there or something. But instead he finds a bunch of colorful sticky notes.

Willie frowns down at the crumpled slips. Sure, he slips notes into people's lockers all the time, but he doesn't get them back much. And never this many at once. He starts laying them out across his desk, grateful for a teacher who mostly ignores them the whole period.

Each paper has a single letter on it, which was odd, but they're all written in a very familiar hand. Willie smiles softly. Alex's awkward fumbling for them suddenly makes a lot more sense.

The letters are P, W, O, M, T, H, E, I, another M, and R, with a ? on the final note. Willie grins at the challenge and begins rearranging them into words. The worm? Moth prim? Their Mom?

Oh.

Willie feels like his heartbeat can probably be heard by the whole school as they fumble for their own notepad.

YES, I would LOVE to go to prom with you!!!! they write on the little blue paper. Though maybe this one can be a hand delivery, rather than being slipped into Alex's locker. It is the end of the day after all. No use leaving their boyfriend on pins and needles any longer.

Willie carefully tucks Alex's notes into a folder, probably looking like an idiot for how wide he's grinning but not caring in the slightest. Alex just asked him to prom! Which means coming out together. Being them. For the whole school to see.

Willie can't wait.

[sweetqueerinthesummer]

evermore and the regrets

Before reading this analysis I would recommend researching the theory about the failed coming out (I think this post from @sophietv is the best I've read on the subject), and reading my previous analysis of The Archer, since I consider these songs to be heavily connected (in my head they're sort of a trilogy with Dear Reader, which should be my next post).

Second thing, I’m not considering the lyrics to be from different pov even though it’s a duet, so even if i put in purple the lyrics that Bon Iver sings in the studio version, I don't believe that it has a particular meaning, but if you have another interpretation, I would be delighted to read it. ^^

A quick reminder of the timeline this is based on, just so we’re on the same page: Taylor would’ve hoped to come out on June 30th 2019 New York pride parade, but didn’t, probably because of the stealing of her masters. She then started really quickly to shift from the colorful Lover era to wearing mostly black, and performing pretty sad songs acoustically (go watch the Live in Paris and the BBC Live Lounge studio for example). It’s also the time where Taylor and Karlie may have broken up, from what I know, we don’t know for sure in what order the events happen, but it may be linked in some way, which might be adding to the pain she feels connected to that period. 

This song takes us through her journey, of understanding and accepting the way things turned out during the Lover era.

I would like to start by highlighting how she uses the imagery of winter (I put it in blue) in that song. She was supposed to come out in at the end of June, and this song is filled with cold, ice, winter, etc, which, I think, represent the way she felt like she was frozen in the closet, incapable to move and to join the queer community during the summer.

Gray November I've been down since July

It may seem obvious, but the beginning of July is the end of June, pride month, and as I said before, she wanted to come out on June 30th: July was exactly the time when she understood that she hadn’t been able to, and must’ve been a period of great doubt and regrets: she never got answer to the questions she asked in the Archer, she never got to see the outcome of all that anxiety she felt, it just didn't happen.

Motion capture Put me in a bad light

This is probably about the Miss Americana documentary, which was allegedly supposed to be a coming out documentary, and ended up being about her talking about politics. After the documentary, she never talked about politics in such an open and determined way again, which might put her in a tight position. The documentary is just another reminder of her “failure” (she might think of it that way, if you want my opinion, not being able to come out is never a failure on your part, it’s a failure from your environment to you), and puts her in a bad light at least in her own mind, since she backtracked right after.

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone Trying to find the one where I went wrong

She replays the events again and again, trying to understand where she made a mistake, where she should’ve acted differently. 

Writing letters Addressed to the fire

And she thinks, again, of all her coming out speeches she might have written (“I’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you”, the Archer), with the bitterness of knowing that none of them were ever destined to become more than wishful thinking.

And I was catching my breath Staring out an open window Catching my death And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar That this pain would be for Evermore

She fears that she’s never gonna overcome those regrets and that she’ll be stuck with these feelings forever. (I’ll develop a bit more on that part when i’ll reach the last chorus.)

Hey December

At the beginning of the song, we were in November, thinking about July. Here, time has passed, but she’s still caught in the winter...

Guess I'm feeling unmoored Can’t remember What I used to fight for

Here again, her not being out can be one of the explanations as to why Taylor stopped talking about politics as much as she did at some point. She can’t find the hope she had before, about her future and her life, and she may have lost the will to fight, feeling like if she wasn’t “even” able to come out, she wasn’t able to fight for anything else.

I think it could also mean that the breakup and/or everything that happened at the time made her lose her desire to come out in any way. 

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause On the very moment all was lost

She can’t understand where everything went wrong, she can’t remember what happened, how it happened, how she ended up where she is, the only thing she remembers is the feeling when she understood that she had “lost”, that she wouldn’t be able to win this.  

The way she says “all was lost” means – in my opinion – that she held so much hope, and that so much of her future was dependent on her coming out, that not being able to do it made her feel like lost everything she had worked for.

Sending signals

The beginning of the Lover era was probably one of the moments Taylor was the loudest about her queerness…

To be double crossed

…But in the end, she was betrayed and she couldn’t get through with it, she couldn’t actually act on these signals. In that situation, she was betrayed, but she could also feel like she betrayed those who understood what she wanted to do.

And I was catching my breath Barefoot in the wildest winter Catching my death And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar That this pain would be for Evermore

Can’t not think of all the cost And the things that will be lost

The anxiety is still there, and she’s wondering if it’s worth it. She was sure it was, in the Archer, but now she isn’t anymore, she realized what she could lose, how much it would cost her. 

Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again

Can I just take time to think, to make sure that it’s still what I want, to be certain I won’t lose everything (again) if I end up doing it.

Whether weather be the frost Or the violence of the dog days I'm on waves, out being tossed

This seems to confirm that the the cold represent the closet: whether she stays frozen in the closet or she faces the violence of being out (a violence that echoes hundreds of years of oppression), she's not in full control. It’s something I’ll develop further in my analysis of Dear Reader, but at that point I think she realized that whatever she does, it’s gonna be at least in part determined by the society she lives in, its intolerance and expectations, and she understands that the closet does not have less worth, as a choice, because coming out is also something that is dictated by heteronormativity. This choice is deeply personal, either ways it’s gonna be hard, and she can finally take a decision without being afraid of “betraying” or “lying” to people. 

Is there a line that I could just go cross?

Is there a way for me to just get through with it and never have to think of it again, is there a rule I could break that would make it impossible for me to be mistaken, and for people not to understand who I am? The answer is no, whatever she does, her queerness will never be fully recognized and accepted. 

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you  In the cracks of light  I dreamed of you  It was real enough  To get me through And I swear  You were there

I *think* she’s talking to her fans here, the ones who wouldn’t have left, had she actually come out. The end of the song is a call for hope and she actually end it up in an optimistic way.

And I was catching my breath Floors of a cabin creaking under my step

In the first chorus, she’s “catching her breath / staring”, she is the most silent possible, voluntarily and she doesn’t move, she’s watching passively. Then in the second one, she’s “barefoot in the wildest winter” you can imagine the snow, she doesn’t make a sound when she walks, and the sound of the wind is covering her anyway, she could not be loud even if she wanted to, but the focus is back on her feet, she’s in movement but it doesn’t change anything, she isn’t able to make a sound. Now, the floor is creaking under her step, she’s back home, in a cabin and she can finally walk loudly without fear or being caught. Is it because she’s finally comfortable in the (glass) closet she now lives in, or because she intends to be fully out at some point, I don’t know, but the end of this song, I think, convey the feeling that she’s safe, or that she’s going to be, at some point.

And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar This pain wouldn't be for Evermore

This goes with what I said before, she ends up accepting herself and stops seeing the failed coming-out as an irreparable mistake, she understands that it’s a period of time and that the way she felt at this specific moment will eventually fade out.

[steddilystranger]

blue butterfly (a life is strange au)

blue butterfly is a story-based fic that features reader choice. the consequences of your collective choices will affect the past, present, and future. the poll, with a duration of one week, is below the cut. choose wisely...

masterlist || part one (you are here) || cw: homophobic language, character death

Wind whips against Steve’s face. He struggles through the storm.

Where am I? he thinks to himself. What’s happening?

A light cuts through his rain-soaked world, and Steve wheels on his heel. “The lighthouse!” he says aloud, droplets of rain seeping through his hair and clothes. “I just have to make it there!” 

He ignores the feeling in his gut that is pulling him back to the town and stumbles forward, wiping the rain from his eyes periodically. He gets close to the base of the lighthouse, breaking out of all the trees, and finally sees the storm for the first time. 

Holy fucking shit. 

It can only be described as a cross between a hurricane and a tornado. It must be miles high, sweeping towards the small town of Hawkins below. 

As Steve watches, the strong winds whisk a boat from the bay below and slam it into the top of the lighthouse. Debris crumbles down, heading straight for Steve’s head.

Steve sits forward, gasping for breath quietly. 

A dream. 

That’s all it was. 

Realistic dream, horrifyingly so, but a dream nonetheless.

His professor, Dr. Brenner, is pacing around the classroom, talking animatedly with his hands. “Photography is subjective. I could frame any one of you in a dark room, watching you turn from the light to the dark.”

Vickie’s phone buzzes. Someone throws a ball of paper at that Byers kid, Jonathan.

Steve glances up at the clock, noticing it’s getting close to the end of class. He starts to subtly slip his Polaroid camera into the case, but accidentally hits the button, causing the flash to go off in his face. All eyes are drawn to him. 

“I believe Steve has taken what you young people call a ‘selfie’”. Brenner says. “I hate that word. Sounds so unrefined for what is a classical photography technique. Mr. Harrington, can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” 

Steve doesn’t want to talk out of his ass, especially not in front of this room of pretentious art nerds. He’s only taking this class because Robin thought it’d be good for him, especially after he got kicked off the basketball team. One too many concussions is apparently where the coach drew the line. 

He shakes his head, and Brenner tuts disappointedly. “If you had done the assigned reading last night, you’d know.”  Vickie raises her hand. ”Vickie?”

 She answers it perfectly. “A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” 

“Very good!” Dr. Brenner congratulates her. “Yes, precisely.” 

The bell rings and everyone stands up to leave, Dr. Brenner’s voice rising above the clamor. “I’m expecting your photographs for the Everyday Hero contest by this Friday! Jeff, that means you. Jonathan, thanks for your submission. And yes, Steve, I see you pretending not to see me.” 

Steve steps out into the hallway, sidling around groups of people. He passes by the notice board and takes a cursory glance at it, noting the new poster pinned up. There’s been a poster up for the missing Byers twins, William and Eleanor, for a couple months now, but now a new missing poster. Chrissy Cunningham. 

He knows Chrissy.��

Not well, of course, but she had gone to school around here back when Steve’s family lived here, before he’d moved away to Seattle. He hadn’t seen her since he transferred back to come to Blackwell, but he didn’t know she was missing. 

Someone bumps into his shoulder roughly, and Steve disappears into the blissfully empty bathroom and takes a breath. 

A movement catches his eye. A blue butterfly flutters in through the open window. 

Robin’s always saying I should “capture the moment”, Steve thinks to himself, drawing his camera out of his bag. Fine. Captured.

He snaps a picture of the blue butterfly as it lands on the small lock of the shitty stall doors, opening and closing its wings lazily, as if putting on a show just for him. 

The door slams open behind him and Steve reflexively dodges into the stall, muffling his breath with his hand. He peers through the crack in between the stall and the door. The butterfly flutters out the top of the stall and away. 

The back of someone dressed in leather and chains, with long, curly hair, is to him. They’re facing someone who Steve unfortunately recognizes. 

Billy Hargrove. 

“You bitch!” he spits. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you!” 

“What?” the mysterious boy taunts, gravelly and low, and Steve thinks he sounds familiar, even though he can’t put his finger on why. “Mad that I cut you off, Hargrove?”

Billy shoves the boy. “I’m paying you money, fag, why do you give a damn how I use the shit I bought?”

“Because I saw you giving it to kids, asshole!” he retorts right back. “And I got it on tape. So you can either fork over some cash and the remainder of the shit I sold you, or I take this to the cops.” 

There’s a sharp breath, and the glint of something metal suddenly hits Steve’s eye. 

Billy’s aiming a handgun at the boy. 

“You are pissing me off.” he grunts, and Steve knows enough about guns to see that the safety’s off. “I bet no one would even miss you, queer!” 

The boy backpedals, letting Billy eclipse Steve’s sliver of view. He’s clutching his hand to his mouth, feeling his nails dig sharp crescent moons into his cheek. 

He can’t just sit here. 

Steve slams the door open, hand outstretched, prepared to snarl at Billy to get the fuck away from him, but the sound startles him, and the gun goes off. 

Right into the boy’s stomach.

The world turns black and white, silent save for a ringing in his ears. 

Someone died. 

Someone died and Steve was too cowardly to stop it.

And then he’s back in class.

Brenner’s talking. “Photography is subjective. I could frame any one of you in a dark room, watching you turn from the light to the dark.” he says. 

I heard this lecture already. Steve thinks. Wait, no. Calm down, Harrington. This is just…serious deja vu. 

Vickie’s phone buzzes, and Steve watches someone throw a paper ball at Jonathan. His hand slips and knocks his camera off his desk. It shatters, pieces scattering all over the ground. 

Fuck. Robin bought him that. 

Hesitantly, Steve reaches out his hand, and it’s like the world moves in reverse around him. His camera pieces levitate off the ground, fitting themselves back together, and the whole camera, now intact, settles itself back on his desk.

Holy shit. 

Steve cannot process this. He watches the same things happen, Vickie’s phone and the paper ball, and stares at his hands. 

Purposefully this time, he picks up his camera and snaps a picture of himself. 

Brenner wheels on him. “I believe Steve has taken what you young people call a ‘selfie’. I hate that word. Sounds so unrefined for what is a classical photography technique. Mr. Harrington, can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” 

Steve sits up straighter, trying to remember what Vickie said last time. “Uh, the… Daguerre process?” 

Brenner laughs. “Close! Vickie, would you like to help him out?” 

“A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” she says. 

Steve reaches out his hand again. The world warps and inverts. “Mr. Harrington,” Brenner says again, “can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” 

“A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Steve parrots Vickie, and feels a swell of victory in his chest when Brenner beams. 

He also feels a swell of nausea. He’s gone back in time, what, three times now? What’s happening?

The bell rings and Steve sweeps his stuff into his bag. He begins mouthing along to Brenner’s speech. “I’m expecting your photographs for the Everyday Hero contest by this Friday! Jeff, that means you. Jonathan, thanks for your submission.” 

Steve dodges into the hallway. “And yes, Steve, I see you pretending not to see me.” he mutters as Brenner finishes his spiel. 

Everything’s the same as Steve slips through the crowd. The missing posters, the conversation snippets, the bathroom being empty. 

The butterfly’s gone, though. Steve doesn’t know what to make of that. 

He folds himself into his hiding spot early, waiting. 

Right on cue, the door slams open and Billy comes in with that mysterious boy. 

They begin to argue again, and Steve leans forward. If this really isn’t a dream, and if Steve waits too long again, the boy will die. Again. 

Steve can’t let that happen.

[monarchisms]

I just love coming to your blog and catching up on all the shit RT has pulled like I'm reading a fuckin newspaper over breakfast. It's not gonna happen, but you should be compensated by RT for at LEAST communicating their news to their audience, like jfc. Shits pathETIC, can't even communicate with their own fans.

lmao, thank you

that's the thing, though, right? almost everything i don't find myself is something i find from another community member, former or current, or a single comment or thread on reddit. it's only gotten harder since rt doesn't use their twitter account anymore to share quick, relevant updates. it gets increasingly frustrating especially because community interaction is what made rt popular in the first place, and arguably what makes them still relevant, period. there's only so much people collectively can put up with before quitting altogether. matt being fired was my personal breaking point, but even before then, mismanagement at the company was a common as the sky being blue. after all this time, i still miss site journals so much smh

...anyways, my paypal is-