#i should be asleep instead of writing this post but <3

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XVI

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Witches and Their Source of Power…

Elain read the chapter title with a sigh, closing the ancient book and setting it on the low table, deciding she would revisit the text again in the morning. At some point, the words had started to lose much of their meaning, each paragraph making less sense than the one that had come before. 

Elain clenched her eyes shut as shadows danced along the sides of her vision, citing her lack of sleep for the tricks her mind had been playing for the last few pages. She had no one to blame but herself for the sleeping arrangements anyway, stubborn as she had been to give Lucien the bed and commit to her choice. 

As Elain adjusted her position in the armchair, tugging the blanket around her shoulders so that she could rest her head against her pillow, she was glad Lucien had stepped out of their shared chambers for a moment. Elain had spent the entire day with him, and she loathed to admit how awfully nice it had been.  

Lucien had shown her around the Forest House, the memory of his hand on the small of her back as courtiers had walked by replaying in her head every time she had a moment to herself. She could barely stand to look at Lucien without feeling the sudden urge to simply touch him,

Elain shook her head at the thought, attempting to push Lucien from her mind. Instead, she considered the Lady of Autumn’s book. Being a witch in Prythian seemed to have many meanings, some more negative than others. In Autumn, their reputation was generally good, Elain was surprised to find, but she was growing frustrated as the pages went on and she could relate to nothing within them. 

Elain wondered if she should ask Eris about getting her a book on seers, but thought better of it immediately. Eris would ask too many questions, and Elain had yet to see the Autumn heir since the celebration Beron had thrown to lift Lucien’s exile.  

She would see Eris at dinner the next day, Elain remembered. Lucien had told her about their invitation to join the High Lord for a meal, quickly declaring he had to speak with his brother before leaving Elain alone in their rooms. Lucien had not expressly told her which of his brothers he had meant to find, but Elain figured the most likely option was Eris. She furrowed her brows, tilting her head to watch as the shadows along the carpeted floor flickered strangely in the light of the dying fire. 

Elain was nervous about having to spend more time with Beron Vanserra and his sons. She did not know what to expect, and she assumed that Lucien was just as worried about how the night’s events would unfold. She hoped to fall asleep quickly, and that no dreams would wake her, so that she could be well-rested. Elain knew she would have to play her part perfectly, that the smallest misstep could have disastrous consequences. 

Just as Elain’s eyes began to droop shut, she felt a shiver travel along her spine. Instinct had her jolting upright, the room seemed dark, her hands clenched into tight fists as she searched for whatever threat her body was warning her about. 

Elain blinked as shadows seemed to slither on the floors, as they darted down the walls and collected in a spot next to the open window. In her panic, Elain grabbed the object nearest to her, the golden candelabra on the coffee table heavy in her small hands. 

I will not scream. 

Elain silently vowed, determined to handle whatever might be coming her way without assistance. She stayed tucked against her armchair, raising her makeshift weapon as the shadows slowly took shape.

The darkness took the distinct form of a man, and Elain yelped embarrassingly in recognition as his facial features became clearer. 

Elain had never seen a phantom, although she had read about the creatures. If she had not known better, she would have assumed that Azriel was one such monster. She could see right through him, the carved pattern of the window sill filtering through his shadows, like he was in the room, but somewhere else at the same time. There with her, but not entirely. 

“Oh gods,” she mumbled, kicking at her blanket, eyes widening in disbelief. She put the candelabra down with a resounding thunk, her words a hiss so that no one else could possibly hear. “Az, what are you doing here?” 

Had she been in Velaris, Elain would have rushed to pull a robe over her sleeping clothes, but the ones in Autumn were modest. The material was thick, meant to keep her warm as the sun fell and the temperature dropped. She still felt an embarrassed blush creep its way onto her cheeks. 

“Were you…” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, it rattled like dead leaves in the wind, odd and unnerving. “Were you going to hit me with the candlestick?”

Elain was close enough to Azriel that she could have touched him if she wished. “You can’t be here,” she stated, anxiety leaking into her tone. “Why are you here?” Elain knew the answer to her question, but she listened closely as the shadowsinger responded. 

“Rhysand and Feyre could hardly come themselves,” his lips tilted up at the corners as he continued, “and Nesta was moments away from storming Autumn to check on you.” 

“Well, I’m fine,” Elain snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose, quickly swallowing any of her frustration. “Tell everyone I’m fine.” 

Azriel frowned, his shadows whirling at his shoulders, nearly blocking him from sight. “We got your letter—”

“But you didn’t believe me?” Elain interrupted, fighting the urge to cross her arms. She had written days before and given her note to Cora who she hoped might be able to pass it to Eris. Elain was careful not to alert anyone of what she was planning in case they thought she might run off, especially since Beron believed that she was staying in Autumn with the Night Court’s knowledge.

Azriel shook his head sharply. “Of course we did,” he reassured. “We just don’t like—”

“What’s done is done,” Elain interrupted once more, her voice easily cutting off his throaty rasp. She had said the same words to Lucien when he had questioned her decision to come for him, although it felt like a lifetime ago. “Me and Lucien are handling it, so unless you’ve come with advice, I don’t want to hear about whether or not you like any of my choices.”

For a moment, it was as if the world had stopped spinning. The silence was heavy, the tension between her and Azriel thick. She had had a complicated history with the Illyrian, but enough years had passed, and his friendship was important to her. Elain hoped at the very least he would understand where she was coming from. 

With a sigh, Azriel said, “Right, of course.” He looked at her with furrowed brows, an unspoken apology in his eyes. “You’ve been alright?” 

Elain’s shoulders dropped in relief and she realised how tense she had been. “Lucien has been a perfect gentleman, so tell everyone not to worry.” 

“I think we’re all more worried about his family than we are him, Elain.” 

She waved a hand in Azriel’s direction as if to say she did not care. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said with a shrug. She hoped desperately that Azriel could not read just how scared the High Lord of Autumn made her. 

Azriel raised a dark brow, his expression knowing. “And the wedding plans?”

Elain groaned in response, toying with the laces of her sleeping gown. “If anything, Rhysand can always winnow me away right before we say our vows.” 

“Not funny,” Azriel said with a smile. His shadows frantically rushed to envelop him, and Elain wondered if they could sense someone approaching. “I should go,” he said, confirming her thoughts. 

“You shouldn’t have come at all,” Elain clipped, taking a few steps back as more shadows whirled past her bare feet. 

Azriel ignored her comment. “Good luck, Elain. We’ll see what we can do on our end.” His form became more faint as he spoke. 

“Stay out of Autumn,” Elain warned one last time, eyes never leaving the shadowsinger. 

Azriel gave her a little bow of his head and she waved in response, a dark cloud covering him entirely. “And Elain?” She hummed, ears straining to hear him. “If you want to keep up the act, the bed should really smell like both of you.” 

Azriel disappeared suddenly, no trace of his visit left behind, and Elain could do nothing but stare at the empty space where he had just been. Almost as if she were in a trance, Elain faced the bed with wide eyes. 

Lucien always made the bed perfectly, covers tucked into place neatly, pillows organised. She walked slowly to the one side, her fingers trailing along the thick fur blanket. Elain could hear her own heartbeat, blood rushing to her ears as she gripped the edge of the covers. Her knuckles were white around the fabric and Elain had to remind herself to stay calm. She pulled the sheets loose, flipping them over to reveal the comfortable mattress beneath. 

Elain closed her eyes, knowing that she would lose her nerve otherwise. It was better that Lucien was not there to watch, she thought, blowing a stray curl away from her face. 

“Fuck,” she mumbled as she laid down, “fuck me.” If Nesta and Feyre could hear her now, Elain thought, they would surely think she had gone completely mad. Her behaviour was improper, and entirely out of character, but she could not be bothered to care. 

In the bed, Lucien’s scent was overwhelming, just as she had feared. Instead of cringing away, like she had expected, Elain simply tucked her face deeper into the pillows, unable to stop herself from breathing in. 

He is mine. 

Elain was so tired, she did not even take the time to examine the possessive thought. For the first time since she had arrived in Autumn, Elain was comfortable. Her body was instantly grateful, relaxing quickly, eyes falling shut easily.

Elain could feel sleep claiming her, slowly but surely. She barely stirred as the door to the suite opened and she became aware of Lucien’s presence. When he paused at the foot of the bed, Elain tried to pretend she was asleep, but when he whispered her name, he captured her attention fully. 

“Get into bed, Lucien,” she simply mumbled, hoping he would not ask any questions.

“With you?” He whispered back, sounding unsure of himself. 

“D’you see another bed in here?” she responded. Lucien said nothing in return, but Elain heard his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom, and she heard them once more as he approached the opposite side of the bed. 

When the mattress dipped with his weight, Elain felt a strange sense of triumph at how little effort it took for Lucien to simply listen and accept the decisions she made. 

Lucien stayed on the edge of the bed, frozen in place for longer than Elain figured was normal. When the time stretched on, she lazily opened an eye to look at him. His broad back was to her, the shirt he wore pulling across his shoulders. 

“We can share,” Elain said softly. “There’s more than enough room on the bed, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.” 

Lucien did not look towards her, but Elain could hear the smile gracing his features as he spoke. “Guess I won’t have to worry about my virtue?” 

Elain snorted, unladylike but uncaring. “Our scents haven’t mixed,” she added, hoping that would be explanation enough for her sudden change of heart when it came to her sleeping on the armchair. 

Lucien’s back straightened, like he had just realised their mistake. “And the dinner tomorrow…” 

“Exactly,” Elain wondered how they had both missed such a small but vital detail. She was even surprised that Cora, or even Eris, had yet to mention it. Perhaps the scent of the mating bond had been enough to redirect everyone’s attention, Elain considered. 

“I like the way you think, Elain.” His tone suggested he was so impressed with her that she decided not to mention Azriel’s influence. 

“Did you speak with Eris?” She mumbled, still wanting confirmation that she had been correct in her assumption. She shut her eyes as she felt Lucien shift. 

Getting under the covers and adjusting the pillows, Lucien’s warmth was like that of a fire as he lay down next to her. Even with her eyes closed, Elain knew that he was near, the distance between them small. She felt a warm blush travel from her neck to the tips of her pointed ears, knowing that sharing a bed with a man she barely knew was improper. “Eris was with Callum.” Elain hummed softly and he continued. “They both had some good advice,” he admitted, and she could tell he had not been expecting it. 

Elain yawned, exhaustion taking over. “Tell me in the morning,” she murmured, opening her eyes to find Lucien entirely too close. She wanted to rake her fingers through the dark red strands of his hair, to tuck her face into the crook of his neck. 

My mate. 

“And move, just a little,” Elain added, her words a breath. Unthinking, the pull of the bond clearly affecting her ability to be reasonable, she pressed her palm to his chest. She felt him tense beneath her touch, he was solid muscle under the thin fabric of his sleeping shirt, leaving very little to the imagination. Elain was glad for the darkness, knowing in the light he would have been able to see her blush. 

Elain could have moved her hand quickly, but she chose not to. She felt his heartbeat just beneath the pads of her fingers, letting her hand linger for a moment. “Good night, Lucien.” 

Elain did not hear his response, instead her mind was fixed on the steady beat of his heart, the sound a comfort as she eased into a dreamless sleep.

[pepi-nillo]

i'm. i'm the same age the twins were when yuyeon went missing

[astralcurses]

why do i smell coffee :standing emoji: its 2:30 am and theres no coffee anywhere NEAR my house girl what

[goingmerryfics]

Hello! I’ve stumbled across your blog and i love it!! I see you’re doing the "sit on his lap" and was wondering if you could add Zoro & Ace and whoever else you choose! Thank you in advance ☺️

Sitting in their lap while they’re not paying attention - w/ Zoro & Ace

Content: Gender neutral reader, SFW

Notes* Thanks for requesting this and also letting me have a free choice, because I haven’t had the chance to write for Paulie yet. But he’s going to have some NSFW elements, so his will be posted separately right away!

Part three of this prompt. Read the other parts here:

1 2 3 4

Zoro

It’s impossible to catch this guy off guard

But there is one way

Zoro is known for his impromptu naps, and that’s how you need to get him

He’s very easily able to shoot up, awake in an instant, at any nearing enemy or danger

So you have to keep your mischief in check while you do it

He’s sitting up against the mast of the ship, arms folded and legs crossed over his ankles

You near him, kneel down, and wave in front of his face

No reaction

Robin is watching you do this from where she’s sitting and reading, amusement all over her face

Carefully, you seat yourself down and make yourself comfortable. You kind of feel like a cat while doing this

It takes you a second to get your legs comfy- you’re kind of sprawled out everywhere

But once you do, you watch his face for any sense of him waking

He doesn’t move, and so you push your luck and take it a little further

You carefully pick up one of his arms and put it around your shoulders, that way you can put your head on his shoulder with one hand on his chest

You’re kind of stuck here until he wakes up, but at least you’re comfortable in the warmth of his body heat

At one point, Nami stops and asks you something about ‘choosing the meathead’, but you’re half asleep at this point

You fall asleep before you get to see his reaction- His face and ears go red when his eyes open and he realizes he can’t move under you

He’d been ready to grab for his sword and attack, but he’d never met an enemy as cute as you were

He carefully stands, picking you up as he does while being careful not to wake you

You wake up hours after the sun has already set, lying comfortably on top of Zoro’s chest in the hammock, one hand on your back and the other behind his head

Slowly, you relax, and head right back to sleep

Ace

Ace is the insufferable type of boyfriend- and by that, I mean he would absolutely tease the hell out of you for anything you wanted to do with him- even if he wanted to do it just as badly

“Aww, you want a kiss? You’re going to have to jump for it.”

You still think you should have just swept his leg for that

But knowing this, you knew that to get into his lap without his annoyingly cute teasing, you needed to flip the script on him and get him flustered instead

So you waited for the perfect moment

Ace is known for his strange narcoleptic condition. It was always at mealtime

So you made sure to sit directly beside him today when everyone was called to dinner

Marco gave you a look when you rushed to your seat- he knew you were up to something, but he couldn't quite tell what it was yet

You just gave him a wink

Ace is chatty with everyone as much as he can be while stuffing his mouth full, as usual

And mid-conversation, that’s where he drops

Also as usual

You quickly move to catch his head before he falls face-first into his food, and then everyone watches and laughs as you maneuver him so that you can sit on his lap, facing him

Once you’re steady, you let his face fall into your chest

Marco sighs and shakes his head

Ace comes to just a second or so later, drool at the corner of his mouth and eyes heavy. His hat is knocked slightly askew, and he fixes it before realizing where he’s been drooling on

Blush paints his face as he meets your gaze

Smirk on your face, you coo at him and ask if he likes your body that much to be drooling all over it

He shakes his head with a low chuckle as the crew laughs

He’s got that look on his face that you were hoping for- complete surrender

He doesn’t know how to retaliate, so he just pulls you down for a kiss 

Someone throws a dinner roll at the two of you and shouts for you to get a room

[dateko]

˚｡⋆ [3:27 AM] GETO SUGURU

a/n: just stupid fluff and the only thing i can write (bitches in a bed). me breaking my long silence and hiatus just to post a suguru drabble... he deserves happiness, too.... this is truly my jujutsu kaisen... pls enjoy!

Suguru breaks the silence of the late night’s pitch-black embrace. Listening to his breathing with your limbs tangled together comfortably beneath the covers, you thought he’d been asleep by now. But it seems he has many things on his mind.

“Can I ask you something?” He speaks, voice low yet so incredibly soft. 

You shuffle in bed before you respond, playing with the large calloused hands locked securely around your stomach. Suguru has always been clingy with you. Just only behind closed doors, away from the rest of the world. He’s always wanted you to himself, in places where only the two of you know. 

“Babe, I’ve said it before and I’ll definitely say it again. Yes, you should go and get that tattoo. It’d look really good.” You mumble sleepily, trying to fight the drowsiness in your voice.

Behind you, you can feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, and his strong hands wander down to your hips, turning you around to face him with overfamiliar ease. The face before you is beautiful and captivating. Even in the dark, where the only source of light is the still moonlight that seeps through the curtains, your breath hitches at the sight of his golden, golden eyes. Suguru’s hair is down and slightly damp, his dark locks framing his face in a way that makes you want to bite his nose off. You could never tire of a face like this. And you were lucky to have it all to yourself.

“Not what I meant, but noted.” Your lover smiles.

Hard to resist, you reach up to tuck a dark strand behind his ear and to this does he melt. You exhale at the feeling of his warm cheek resting into your palm like he was molding himself into you. 

“Then what?” A thumb brushes across the expanse of his cheek as you whisper back.

Suguru sighs before speaking again. “Do you love me?”

This time, you really do pinch his cheek and threaten to bite his nose off as you roll your eyes and return to your original sleeping position. You don’t need to turn around to see him with a slight pout on his lips, brows furrowed just a bit. 

“Don’t ask me dumb questions you already know the answer to, Sugu,” You bring your hand back to pull his arm back around your waist. “Of course I do.”

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Let’s go back to sleep.”

You should know better than to think that Suguru would stop there. The bed dips slightly before you feel your wrists being pinned above your head and your lover moves his knee over your body so he can loom over your smaller figure, a saccharine and deliciously sweet smirk on his plush lips. The tips of his hair strokes your face, which causes you to scrunch your nose with a smile. You knew what you were in for immediately, but it was quite honestly way too late to be even reasonably horny. All you can do is huff and pout up at the man you love so ridiculously much. 

“Say that you love me.” He tries again.

“Sugu…” You whine as you make a small attempt to free yourself from his hold, knowing well you could never beat his strength. It was all for show and you’ve decided there was no longer any point in trying to sleep tonight.

“Come on…” He pouts, loosening his grip around your wrist to lace his fingers with yours instead.

Your careful eyes watch as he lowers his handsome face to yours, lips only mere centimeters away from yours. Suguru raises a brow at how you stare at his lips with a hungry look before your eyes meet him again, begging. Thinking he would finally give in to your silent pleas to kiss you, your other half dips his nose into the crook of your neck instead. To this, your body deflates and you sigh at the feeling of his skin on yours, that nose you adore so much brushing along the soft expanse of your neck while leaving a trail of feathery kisses. 

Suguru places a playful bite on your shoulder before pulling up to look at you once more. “Do you love me?”

You bring his lips back down to yours, to which he happily reciprocates with a smile. Pulling apart, you look at him and really look at him. Making sure he possessed every feature you have memorized for years and looking up at the eyes that only seemed to sparkle when looking at you. Finally, you smile.

“I love you Geto Suguru. I love you so much,” You pinch his cheek for good measure. “And don’t forget it this time.”

“Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?” He smiles before reaching under your (his) shirt to squeeze at your side. “I love you, too.”

[astaroth1357]

A Brutally Honest Description of How Each Brother SHOULD Text Each Other

Lucifer

That bitch who corrects your grammar and typos.

"Is it 'who' or 'whom,' MC? You can do better."

Always formal, full sentences, good punctuation, with little typos.

Only changes when he's solo texting Diavolo where suddenly they're sending each other text spam and multiple emojis like gossiping schoolgirls.

Mammon

I swear, his texts should be basically unreadable. Not because he can't write, but because he never reads over for mistakes before hitting send.

Typos, misspellings, missing words, the whole works. Sending messages through only emojis would arguably be more coherent.

Very big fan of voice chat because his brothers make fun of his illegible texts.

Only person who can reliably decipher whatever he says and never gets on his case about it is, surprisely, Lucifer. But he's had to read it for so many years that he barely even notices the flaws anymore. His mind fills in the gaps.

Levi

VERY BIG FAN OF ALL CAPS but to express excitement.

Could write you a novel but will send you an internet link to what he's talking about instead.

Sends random sentence fragments when too excited because his thumbs get away from him and he'll accidently hit "Send" twelve times in a row.

Texts exactly how he speaks. Included his many Levia-isms which are just keyboard smashes or random ass onomatopoeia like "bluforgal"

Satan

ANOTHER BIG FAN OF ALL CAPS because to express ANGER.

Can write you a novel. Will write you a novel. And will squeeze it all into one or two texts max.

Run-on sentences galore. Man has never met a comma he doesn't immediately take in like a starving Victorian orphan.

Likes taking aesthetic pictures of his books, coffee, rain, and cats. Mostly cats. You would think he has to immediately report each one he sees to MC like an endangered species.

Asmo

The living god of emojis. He has ones downloaded that you've never even imagined before. Incredibly hyper-specific ones like "man bent over stop sign puking on ground."

The kind of person who will ALWAYS answer the questions "How are you" or "Where are you" with an immediate selfie. Even in the tub.

Comes up with brilliant hot-takes while drunk and spams them at you at 3 in the morning.

While send selfies and aesthetic pics to you first for approval before posting them to Devilgram. He expects detailed critique on image quality, filter usage, pose, composition, lighting-

Beel

I feel like Beel just matches whatever energy you give him, sometimes for no reason.

If you text him: WHAT IS THE GROCERY LIST THIS WEEK? You'll get back:

EGGS.

CHEESE.

TOMATO.

The only big difference is Belphie because those two can send each other messages that are just "Uh-huh." "No." "No way!" for an hour and come away with a complete conversation.

Belphie

Abbreviation king. If he can skip out on writing out the whole word, he'll do it by any means necessary.

Sometimes he doesn't even bother finishing people's names and uses initials like he speaks in code.

"M wnt 2 🛒 store"

"Wtch out, Lu is 😡"

Falls asleep texting often so messages can be perfectly fine one minute, then turn into a garble of letters the next.

Voice chats his dreams to MC like an audio-diary. Since he naps often, they may get 5 to 10 of these rambily messes sent to them a day.

[enluv]

sungchan as your boyfriend…

pairing: non-idol!sungchan x gn!reader

word count: 573!

genre(s): pure fluff like hold onto your hats because this might make you fall in love with him kinda fluff + (no warnings!)

coco’s <3 note: thank you @okkotsu-simp for requesting this 🤍

– sungchan who first meets you at your universities library because you’re sitting in his usual spot and he’s seriously irritated about it but he thinks you’re too beautiful to tell you off

– that same sungchan decides to just take the seat in front of you and smiles when you look up at him surprised, he’ll explain that you’re in his spot and shake his head no quickly after when you try to get up and offer it back to him, instead asking you what you’re working on

– the rest is history after that, you have a mutual crush on one another and he asks you out immediately after watching the library worker try and flirt with you, something about how you’re his significant other and he thought it was obvious to evereyone???

– sungchan is the type of boyfriend to introduce you to the things he usually does alone, this isn’t to say he doesn’t continue to do them alone but if he thinks you’ll enjoy going on a walk in his favorite park then he’ll be sure to plan for you to try it out with him

– he won’t force you to try new things (foods, activities, hobbies, etc.) but he would most definitely encourage it

– he knows how hard university can get so he will always make sure you’re taking care of yourself

– you’ve been up for hours working on a final paper? it’s time to sleep love, and he means it! he’s a strong guy do you really think he won’t trick you with cuddles on his bed then trap you in his arms till you eventually fall asleep?

– sungchan who can’t cook to save his life but will learn to make you soup for when you catch a cold

– sungchan who buys your pet clothes he thinks will look cute on them and swoons whenever you send him pictures of them wearing the outfits he bought

– sungchan who is the biggest cuddle bug you’ll ever meet, like seriously he loves his cuddles so much and demands them every night

– sungchan who so badly wants to meet your parents because he wants them to know who is dating their baby but is also so nervous to meet them that he freaks out all day till you drag him to dinner shaking

– sungchan who goes out of his way to form an authentic friendship with your friends because he knows how much they mean to you and wants to make sure they know how much you mean to him

– sungchan who drives with one hand, and places the other over you to make sure you’re safe when he’s backing out of places (i need him)

– sungchan who gets pouty when you won’t kiss him because you’re sick and don’t want him to catch your cold (he swears up and down he doesn’t care but pouts even more when he catches it)

– sungchan who always lets you taste his food when you guys go out to eat together

– sungchan who helps you study for exams you have coming up

– sungchan who invites you back to his place for holidays away from school when you can’t go back home

– sungchan who buys you flowers all the time because he knows they make you smile

– sungchan who notices the little habits you have, like tapping your fingers nervously or squeezing his hand a bit tighter when you’re excited about something

– sungchan who when he has a bad day at work or school calls you because hearing your voice immediately puts his mind at ease and washes away all his worries…

coco’s <3 note: right so like I NEED HIM. okay moving on! I could totally go on forever with these but I decided that I should maybe just post them because if I didn’t stop myself I definitely would have never posted this and just kept adding to it for months on end (this is totally not the reason I haven’t posted my jay bf hcs ahahahaha why would you even think that silly goose!) anyways I hope you enjoy these and fantasize  about sungchan the same way I did when writing them 🤣🫵🏽 as always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies @chaerybae @lecheugo @idkwatodoanymore @givemeakith @haechansbbg @mxlly143 @tinyelfperson @vampcharxter (bold can’t be tagged 😞)

Want to be added? Check out the form post here!

[wondernus]

— WHY HIM?

SYNOPSIS: armed and ready at 4am, you approach your locked front door to confront the group of loud strangers trying to break into your apartment

PAIRING: fiancé!lsm x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor

TAGS: food mention, inebriated characters, post-bachelor party, brother!hvc

WC: 1.75k

MESSAGE FROM NU: hii long time no see :3 posting a dk oneshot to let you know i'm procrastinating on my final paper draft by drafting a hefty dk soulmate au i've been thinking about writing for a while. also dedicating this fic to @wongyuseokie the la to my ma

A perfectly peaceful Friday night goes to waste when you shoot up from your bed in a panicked state. It’s not the usual cat wanting to leave your room at five in the morning kind of scratching sound that lures you to open your bedroom door in a half-awake state. Instead, shuffling sounds out front and an insistent metal-to-metal sound, which you can only infer as someone trying to break into your apartment, cause you to become extremely vigilant.

Seokmin isn’t picking up his phone, but you keep his line ringing just in case he does. Doubtful that a pair of scissors can do as much damage to the head as a giant wok can, you head into the kitchen to pick up that giant carbon steel wok that you can never seem to fit into any of your kitchen drawers as a form of physical backup before you quietly approach your front door.

However, the fear that once overwhelms your body soon turns into a sigh of exasperation before you can even position yourself to look through the tiny peephole. You can clearly hear the familiar voices on the other side of the door and match each voice to its respective owner. Feeling relieved, you drop the wok on the cubby by the door and hang up the phone.

“Look, I opened it,” the man who was trying to open your door slurs with a dopey smile on his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s talking to anybody in particular. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Almost immediately after that statement, he falls forward and faceplants a couple centimeters away from your indoor slippers. Slumped to the side of his face is his hand that holds a small metal keychain between the thumb and index fingers. It’s a souvenir nameplate keychain from a family trip to another country a few years back whose design reads “Vernon” in all caps. You realize that the man near your feet didn’t even try opening the door with the key.

The actual owner of the set of keys lies on his left side while his entire body is propped against the bushes in front of your place. His legs are still surprisingly in a crisscross position, but you think it’s because his jeans restrict him from being able to unravel from the position. And when you see earbuds plugged up your brother’s nose while his mouth acts as some sort of impromptu speaker for whatever song he has playing through his earbuds, you consider the option of leaving him outside for the rest of the night. What’s even worse is that Joshua, although a little out of it, sits next to his younger friend and bobs his head to the music while lethargically reaching into his brown paper bag on his lap to grab some greasy fries. You think your brother is asleep, but you don’t know if him becoming a speaker happened pre-knocking out or post-knocking out.

“Do I want to ask why you guys are trying to break into my place at 4 a.m. in the morning or should I be concerned that only half of you guys are here?”

“Actually.” the man underneath you groans while he slowly gathers enough strength to sit upright. There is a nasty red mark on the side of his face that he doesn’t seem to know of and mind. “Saying ‘4 a.m. in the morning’ is redundant.” He points at nobody in particular with the same hand holding your brother’s set of keys and stares past your calves.

“Since you’re sober enough to be smart with me, I need your help dragging Vern and Shua into my place before the neighbors wake up and call neighborhood watch,” you gruff before stepping out of your house slippers into the sandals you keep near the door.

It turns out that there are more people scattered about the front of your place.

There is a car parallel parked against the sidewalk with what looks like two people in the car. Someone picks themself off the small grassy lawn on the other side of the bushes and trudges towards the car while pinching their temple.

Wonwoo nods at you when he passes by looking completely sober. Yet, for somebody who usually looks well-put-together, his hair is a mess while the top few buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned…no, missing. What remains are the threads that once attached the buttons to the dress shirt. You notice that he grips three different neckties in his hand but still his loose around his neck. Nevertheless, Wonwoo kicks off his dress shoes, steps over Jeonghan, enters your front door without saying a word, and knocks out on your sofa before his legs can make it onto the cushions.

You turn back to your brother. Joshua wipes his fingers on his pants before he squats on the other side of Vernon to help him up.

“Up,” you tell the both of them.

“I can’t breathe,” Vernon whines while allowing the both of you to help him stand. “My nose isn’t working.”

You sigh and yank the wired earbuds by their cords and out of his nostrils and let them drop before the older man helps his friend into your place. Bending down to grab the bag of fries that Joshua forgot, you see a disturbing amount of hair poking through the crevices of the leafy bush. Someone was dumb enough to black out in the bushes and you can’t tell who it is even after peering over the bush to look at the other half of the body.

“Jeonghan,” you hiss at the man who is trying to discreetly walk back to the car.

He looks back at you and mouths “what” while shrugging his shoulders.

You point at the head in the bush.

“It's Jihoon,” he snorts. He takes the paper bag from your hand and walks back to drop it in the wok that you put to the side before walking back to you. “I think he was supposed to give Vernon his keys but tripped and never got back up. Come to the car with me.”

“Why are you guys here?” you whispered. “I thought that you guys had the entire night planned out.”

“We had the entire night planned out. But then DK started crying and we had to end it early because he wouldn’t stop crying. And then all of us sobered up to try to help him but then it just worsened, so we drove here to get you to get him to stop crying. Some of us couldn’t deal with not being able to solve his problem and just started drinking again.”

“Is that why Jihoon is in the bushes?”

“Well, he never was the patient type,” he hums.

A quick look into the car immediately gets you to understand why someone like Jihoon would end up so drunk that he would dive headfirst into some bushes.

There are dozens of used tissues balled up and overflowing in the tiny hanging trashcan attached to the back of the passenger seat in Wonwoo’s car. There are a few in the laps of the two men sobbing next to each other in the backseats, and you make a mental note to help Wonwoo sanitize the inside of his car before he drives away in the afternoon. Seungcheol releases Seokmin’s seatbelt and looks at you with an apologetic smile on his face.

In all of the years you’ve come to know Seokmin, you have never seen his eyes this puffy.

“Sorry for showing up at your place unannounced. That must have scared you. There was a lot going on,” Seungcheol murmurs to you while giving you a quick hug. “We were making toasts to his future during the party until Vernon made a comment.”

“What did he say?” you asked him, shocked that your brother could even make a comment that would bring your fiancé to such a state.

“It wasn’t bad.” Seungcheol stepped aside from the open car door to let you squat next to your lover. “He just congratulated you on getting married but this dumbass took it the wrong way because he didn't mention Donkey Kong over here in the sentence and thinks you’re getting married to someone else.”

“Someone else!” Seokmin chokes out in a sob while slumped over on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Why him? Why not me?”

You grab a tissue from the tissue box on the center console and dab at your future husband’s face. The traces of his tears wet the thin paper, and you can feel the heat of his skin through the tissue. With the same hand, you push the bangs stuck to his forehead and his eyelids to the side. You don’t mind that he doesn’t seem to know that you’re there taking care of him.

“Aww baby,” you coo. “I’ll get married to you, don’t worry.”

The familiarity of your comfort seems to lure your fiancé to sleep. A little further from you, Soonyoung continues to sniffle while his eyes are closed. You turn to Seungcheol and Jeonghan with your mouth open and eyebrows scrunched together.

“He’s a drunk crier…” Jeonghan’s words doesn’t leave you guessing anything. “And also Minghao opened his mouth during the bachelor party.” He scratches the back of his head as a sign of stress and embarrassment before looking at Seungcheol and cocking his head at the two knocked out in the car.

Jeonghan has the easier job of coaxing Soonyoung awake to walk him into your place. Seungcheol, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to swing the entire weight of your limp boyfriend like a large sack of rice over his shoulder.

“Do you need me to help with anything?” you ask him.

You don’t know what time it is anymore. The sky is getting brighter, and the temperature is warming up. Your partner looks finally peaceful in his sleep.

“Nah.” Seungcheol softly brushes your request aside. “We’ve already caused enough trouble for you.”

“I feel like I should be the one apologizing,” you joke while trailing behind Seungcheol just in case he needed any help readjusting the body.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.” His words are sincere. “He loves you, you know. He cried his heart out just because he loves you. There’s nothing to apologize for. To be loved is to be cared for. Go back to bed, we’ll probably wake up around dinner time.”

“Do you think anybody grabbed Jihoon?”

[hotluncheddie]

Wherever you go, that’s where I am.

lovely @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx mentioned writing some more mid 20s, slightly softer body steve <3 so here is: Five times Eddie loves Steve’s body and one time Steve loves Eddie’s 

wc: 3.5k | cw: none | rated: M | tags: established relationship, body worship, feral pining goblin eddie munson, chubby steve harrington, fluff, they're in love (so so so in love)

ao3

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1.

Eddie leaps back into the bed, mattress bouncing. He’s been hit with the post coital zoomies, which unfortunately go against Steve’s post nut ritual of passing the fuck out. 

But Eddie doesn’t mind. Not when Steve looks so soft, all curled up, laying on his side. 

Eddie cleans up, Steve teeters on the verge of sleep until Eddie’s finished and spoons him. It’s foolproof. 

He nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder, kissing over the skin and down his back. He traces over the scars at Steve’s hip, just like his own. It still makes Eddie shiver when he thinks about it sometimes, him and his boyfriend, connected like that. 

Eddie nuzzled in more and Steve lets out a sleepy groan. He’s so cute when he gets fucked boneless. Eddie would know, he’s the one that gets to do the fucking. 

Letting his hands roam further Eddie sneaks around to Steve’s stomach, stroking the soft hairs of his happy trail and letting his fingers press into the slight pudge that sits there now. It feels nice, like his Steve, relaxed and happy and safe. 

‘I like this’ Eddie says, giving the soft skin a squeeze. 

Steve grunts. ‘Wha?’ Eddie thinks he says, Steve’s face is smushed into the pillow. 

Eddie smiles, kisses his shoulder. ‘This.’ Eddie squeezes again, splaying his whole hand over it, pressing his fingers into the warm skin slightly. 

Steve just grunts again, turns his head to lay on the pillow properly. ‘I’ll go for a run tomorrow.’ He says, voice still rough with impending sleep. 

‘What?’ Eddie asks, because, huh? ‘Steve, I just said I like it.’ and Eddie scoots closer, tries to get a look at Steve’s face over his shoulder. 

He seems to be puzzling something out in his head, eyebrows slightly furrowed over his closed eyelids. ‘Oh.’ He says softly. ‘Kay.’ And he shimmies back into Eddie more, face smoothing out. 

Eddie squeezes him, tucking him up into his chest. ‘Yeah oh.’ He murmurs, kissing between Steve’s shoulder blades. ‘Silly.’ He adds fondly. Silly guy, how could he think Eddie sees him as anything other than the breathtaking, heavenly angel that he is? 

Steve just grunts again, resting his hand over Eddie’s on his stomach and falling dead asleep. His soft snores filling the room. 

Eddie resists the urge to bite his shoulder. Instead curling around him more and holding him as close as possible. Maybe they should talk about this at some point, why his mind went where it did. 

Not right now though. right now Eddie just lets himself drift off, lulled by the steady breathing of his most favourite person. 

2.

Eddie is going to erect an alter. And build a shrine. And kneel before it to give thanks. 

And it will all be dedicated to one, Bruce Springsteen. 

Eddie will never ever, cross his heart, ever complain about Steve playing ‘Born in the USA’ multiple times in a row. He’ll even put it at the top of his all time album lists. He’ll do it. He will. 

Because that album cover, that guy, those songs, inspired his Steve to look like that. 

And Eddie has never been a winner. But he hit the fucking jackpot today. Every day. All the days Steve will still let Eddie have him. 

The band had taken a trip into Chicago for some very exiting meetings. With Steve, angel that he is, offering to chauffeur so none of them would be too tired, and so they only had to spring for a hotel for one night instead of two. 

During said meeting Steve had been entertaining himself. The latest that Eddie got out of had been the longest and most exiting, so he’s happy. 

He’s maybe even happier though that Steve found such a productive way to entertain himself. 

Because Eddie too, is entertained. 

He’s waiting at Steve’s car, leaning against the front bumbler. And Steve, blessed, beautiful, jock that he is, had found the batting cages. 

Eddie’s going to write a song about blue jeans. He’s going to send Brucy a letter of thanks for causing Steve to cut the sleeves off his old grey crew neck. He’s going to need to get his mouth on Steve’s dick ASAP if he intends on walking over with his baseball bat over his shoulder the way it is, hips swaying, smug little smirk on his face. Maybe Eddie just needs a lobotomy, it’s all a little too much. 

Steve walks right past him, tapping him under the chin as he goes.

Eddie’s mouth was open, respectfully. 

Then he hears the boot click open, and Eddie quickly scampers around to the back of the car. 

Just in time to watch Steve bend over, putting the bat back, ass round and thick and filling up his jeans oh, so nicely. 

Eddie might have to write a whole album about blue jeans actually. Especially these new ones, a size or so bigger since high school, more room to let the full force of Steve show to the world. 

It’s just, there’s a certain level more bounce to it all now, and it makes Eddie kind of insane. 

And, oh, yep, Steve’s arching his back, okay. He wants Eddie to die, yep, like, actually die, for real. 

He’s not even really keeping up the rouse of pretending to be doing something. He’s just bent over with his back arched and his ass sticking out, shirt lifted just enough for Eddie to see the base of his spine. 

He’s doing it knowing Eddie’s looking. Knowing they’re in public. Knowing Eddie’s looking but they’re in public so Eddie can’t do anything. 

Menace. Brat. Evil. Evil. Evil. 

‘Boys are at the diner down the street. Said we’d meet them there.’ Eddie says, monotone, rough and with herculean effort. They need to go. He can’t do any of the many things he wants to to Steve right now. So they should go, for Eddie’s heart and soul and sanity’s sake. 

Eddie sighs, he really could look at this scene all day, but that would waste time, valuable, Steve and Eddie alone in the privacy of a room time. Which is sacred. 

‘We’ll be home by tonight you know?’ Steve says, leaning on the now closed boot. He’s taking pity on Eddie but he still looks a little smug, which is annoyingly, all, also hot. ‘C’mon, I’ll keep my hand on your thigh on the drive to the diner, the way you like.’ Steve murmurs, coming up behind Eddie and pushing him lightly, steering him towards the car. 

‘Home by tonight.’ Eddie parrots, his life line. He’ll be home by tonight, with Steve. Alone with just Steve, and he can do some of the many many things, whatever Steve will let him, whatever Steve wants.

3.

‘You come here often?’ Steve asks, grin loose and sloppy, eyes lidded. One arm resting on the doorframe next to Eddie’s head. Steve’s staring at his lips. 

Eddie smiles at him, tucks a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear. Cradling his cheek Eddie shakes Steves head slightly. ‘I do baby. I live here.’ And Steve giggles, tucks his head into Eddie’s neck, like this is the best news in the world. 

They’ve just got in from the bar, Steve crowding into Eddie’s space as soon as he got the door locked. Robin found a girl, away for the night. Steve had a couple more than normal to drink. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh along with him, kissing the side of his head and resting his hands on his hips to start walking them backwards towards their room. ‘C’mon big boy.’ He says, just to make Steve giggle more. 

Steve lifts his head back up, smile still big and loose, eyes still lidded. ‘Dance with me?’ He asks, like Eddie can’t tell he’s twenty minutes away for being passed out in bed, his fruity drinks always making him crash eventually. 

But Eddie can’t really say no to Steve, especially not when he’s like this, care free and blinding. When he’s beautifully alive. 

Eddie takes a step back, takes Steve’s hand and twirls him. Steve stumbles slightly, laughing again. 

With his arm up Eddie can see some of his soft hip and belly as his t-shirt lifts, can see that his jeans are unbuttoned. Which is not surprising since they’re practically painted on. Steve explained that he likes feeling Eddie up against him when they dance, likes the way Eddie’s eyes sharpen if someone looks a little too long. And oh, people look, it’s not just Eddie who notices how those jeans fit, how wonderful Steve always looks. 

But Eddie’s the only one who gets to see Steve like this. Home at the end of the night. When Steve needs that extra room, when he lets his soft parts breathe a little better. When he relaxes fully. 

That’s just for Eddie. And it’s the best part. 

Eddie twirls Steve again and lets him fall back into his chest. Giggles dying out slowly and breath coming deeper and slower. Steve hums, squeezing Eddie’s middle and breathing in the skin behind his ear. Steve leaves kisses down Eddie’s neck, a little wet, making Eddie shiver. Steve hums and does it again. ‘Love you.’ He whispers, holding Eddie close. 

Eddie squeezes back, his heart bursting. ‘Love you too baby.’ He says into Steve’s hair, into his bones, into all his soft wonderful edges. ‘Let me take my love to bed now, hm?’ He asks, dipping his hands into Steve’s back pockets, squeezing just to feel Steve tense and then relax against him. 

Steve nods, still in Eddie’s neck. One last kiss and he’s moving. Pulling Eddie by the hand through to their room. Kicking off his shoes and falling onto the bed with Eddie on top of him. Steve’s eyes already closed, breath already slowing and deepening. Like he knows Eddie will take care of the rest of their clothes, knows Eddie will tuck the blanket up around him, will hold Steve close all night. Knows Eddie will take care of him 

Because Eddie will. Always. 

4.

‘Looking good Munson.’ Steve says, jogging past Eddie, panting slightly, smacking Eddie on the ass. Making Eddie jolt and almost spill his coffee. 

He was leaning against the car door, face hidden in his arms because he’s just had to watch his very hot boyfriend complete his weekly work out at the park. Running, push-ups, the whole horrible lot. 

And its ass o’clock in the morning because Eddies vans broke and he needs a ride to work, but he wants his love to have hobbies and be happy and Steve can only get him there if Eddie came along to watch. So, really, Eddie can deal with the early morning but, he’s not sure if his dick can. 

Because ass. 

Ass, was right. 

And hip. And thigh. And bicep. And back. 

Steve is chugging his water, sweaty. His shirt is cropped, his shorts are short and he’s wearing a backwards baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face. 

He’s even got tube socks pulled up over his hairy calf’s. 

He looks like a spread from the magazine Eddie used to keep under his mattress. It was dog eared and kind of, maybe, a little bit.. Sticky. 

And Steve knows about the magazine. 

Steve knows what he’s doing to Eddie right now. 

Eddie glares at him over his largest they own coffee cup. It’s so early and the shirts a little see through. The shorts dig in to the softness at his hips, cut so high Eddie can see the smooth skin of his inner thighs. He watches the muscle and slight chub move when Steve shifts on his feet. 

Eddie walks up to him. Knocking his head between Steve’s beautiful, wonderful, hairy, sweaty pecs. Thud thud thud. 

Eddie groans. 

Why does his boyfriend have to be so stupidly, annoyingly hot right before work? 

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve’s lead and gets back in the car. He glares at the amused smile on Steves face, but then Steve checks all around to make sure the park is still blessedly empty and kisses Eddie sweetly on the temple. Eddie sighs, mollified, he can get over it. 

But then Steve puts his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat, swivelling to look out the back as he reverses. Eddie’s hit with his body heat and smell, all detergent and cologne mixed with sweat and musk and Steve. 

His broad chest right by Eddie’s head, a peak of pink nipple through white cotton, the chain Eddie got him for Christmas dangling into his chest hair. He’s so capable and in control, practical and smart and…

Eddie back at square one. He can’t get over it actually. It’s early and Steve is being a brat dressing like that. Being so hot on purpose. It’s so mean. 

‘You wanna stop for breakfast?’ Steve asks, voice light. 

‘Yeh.’ Eddie grunts, voice small, hands shoved in his jacket. 

‘What d’you want?’ and Eddie can hear the amused smile on Steves face again, his voice a little patronising. 

But Eddie doesn’t care. ‘You.’ He whines, resisting the urge to straddle Steve’s thighs and wrap his arms around his middle and squeeze him. He’d be so warm, and sweaty and soft and strong and perfect. 

They could just make out! Eddie could probably survive all day if he got a bit of tongue down his throat. 

‘Well, I’m getting a breakfast sandwich.’ Steve says, switching to drive and Eddie just whines again, burying his head in his hands. 

5.   

It’s a routine, Eddie doing this for Steve, to make sure his scars heal properly. They won’t ever fade fully but the ointment helps, the doctor said it would, and Eddie likes doing it. Sitting on the edge of the bed and having Steve stand between his thighs, shirt off before him. Eddie likes taking care of Steve like this. Likes that Steve lets him. 

‘You’ve got a new one.’ Eddie says, running the cream over Steve’s skin. 

Steve tenses, looks down at himself. ‘What?’ He asks, confused, a little stressed. 

Eddie hushes him, leans forward and kisses the skin below his bellybutton lightly, before smearing the cream there too. ‘Shh. Here.’ He prods the stretch mark that travels over the softness that now covers Steve’s hip bone, his fingers pressing into the give. 

Steve cranes his neck to look at it, squeezing the skin to inspect it. But he grips so hard, Eddie smacks his hand away gently. ‘Careful.’ He says. Petting over the redness Steve left. ‘That’s my sweetheart you're man handling there, show some respect.’ And he leans back to look up at Steves face. 

His cheeks are red and he looks annoyed, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a pout. ‘What is it love?’ Eddie asks, resting his hands on Steve’s sides. 

‘S’ugly’ Steve mumbles, moving his arms like he wants to cross them but Eddie shifts a little closer and Steve re routs to place them on Eddie’s shoulders with a sigh. 

Eddie kisses his stomach again. Kisses the stretch mark, the scars that travel over his waist. Does the same to the other side. ‘Nah.’ Eddie disagrees softly. ‘You’re beautiful Steve, all your marks are.’ And Eddie kisses his favourite mole, the one that sits below his left pec. ‘But this one’s my new favourite part.’ And he rubs his thumb over the red lightning bold, looks at Steve again. His eyes wide and glassy, his mouth relaxed into the pretties little ‘o’. 

‘Shows how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve healed. It’s all yours baby.’ And he watches Steve swallow, nod his head. 

Eddie goes back to spreading the ointment over Steve’s skin, taking his time, and when he’s finished he lays Steve down, pushing him into the mattress, breathing him in. Promising over and over that he’s so beautiful, so strong and amazing. That Eddie loves him, always has and always will. Until Steve believes him. Until every inch of skin is covered in kisses and praise. Until he’s writhing and panting in the sheets. Eddie kissing his tears away, their lips meeting, salty and slick. 

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other. Eddie almost fully drifted off but not before he feels a final, butterfly light peck on his throat. A little ‘thank you’ whispered into the skin. It’s so quiet he almost misses it. He pulls Steve closer, holds him tighter, and let's sleep take him. 

+1

On Sundays Steve makes breakfast. Or brunch, really, because they always sleep in. But breakfast food, late every Sunday morning. 

He always wakes up first anyway. So he starts cooking while Eddie gets another hour or so of rest. It’s like he stacks them up, needs them to get him through the week. The extra on Sunday allowing him a hour or two leeway for late night Eddie Time after his shifts. Steve doesn’t mind, lets him sleep. 

This week it’s french toast and scrabbled eggs, a little fruit, and, like every morning, coffee. 

Steve hears the telltale thud of Eddie stumbling out of bed. Hears his footsteps travel from the bedroom to the bathroom, and finally into their little kitchen. Where he feels sleep warm arms wrap around his middle. 

Steve smiles into the pan of eggs, Eddie resting his head between Steve’s shoulder blades and sighing. He always takes a long time to wake up, and he’s cute the whole time doing it. 

When he’s had his fill of squeezing Steve, sleepy hands wandering around his torso, head nuzzling against the soft cotton of Steve’s t-shirt, Eddie goes to pore himself coffee. Fills it with milk and sugar before shuffling over the the kitchen table. 

He sits in their creaky wooden chairs, huddled around his steaming mug, eyes bleary and hair a messy halo around his head. Eddie blinks his big brown cow eyes so slowly, staring at nothing. 

Steve turns off the burners and watches the soft spring light fall over eddies shoulders, leaving patches of yellow over his bare skin. Warming the mottled pinks and reds. A patch of light over his thigh, a golden window on the flannel of his low slung pyjama pants. 

his scars have healed well, even with all the grafting and scarring, the doctors managed to do enough to let him survive, let his body become what it is now. he’s stronger, looks healthier than he used to, all the physical therapy and three square meals a day gave him some more definition, more colour in his cheeks. but he’s still wiry, still pale and a little gangly, able to curl up into a ball or spread out and command a whole room. 

He has new tattoos too, stretching over scar and skin. Painting him on the outside with all the wonder and creativity he has swirling in his head. They’re so a part of him, such a perfect addition. The pale tones of pink contrasted with patches of inky black. 

Steve can’t believe it sometimes. That guy he saw in the lunch halls, the one he met in the upside down. Those awful months of Eddie in the hospital. To get to see him now, have him now, this Eddie Munson. His Eddie. 

Steve just. 

Steve can’t take it. 

He steps over, cradling Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. looks down and his loves face. Awed that he gets to see Eddie like this, before all that energy hits him, before his fingers start tapping and his feet need to move, to run, to jump. Gets to see him soft, and quiet and slow. Gets to see his eyes bright and glassy and teary and tired. Gets to see the hunch of his shoulders around his coffee mug, and the curl of his toes against the linoleum. Gets him at his rockstar and his sniffles, at his post work rant and his pre weekend buzz. 

He gets to see all of him. Hard and soft. Dark and light. 

It’s magical. 

‘I love you.’ Steve says, for the hundredth, thousandth time. Kissing Eddie on the lips for the millionth, trying to infuse him with everything Steve has, all the love, all the awe. Tries to put it all there in the kiss. 

When he pulls away Eddie’s sleepy eyes look that little bit brighter, his cheekbones dusted pink. The way they do sometimes when Eddie says Steve gives him “too much attention”. Like Eddie forgets, forgets how much space he fills up in Steve’s brain, his memories, his daydreams. How he can’t look at the sky day or night without being reminded in some way of Eddie. ‘So pretty.’ Steve traces his thumbs over the flush, the tips of Eddie’s ears, fingers trailing over his jaw and scarred neck. 

He kisses Eddie’s forehead and goes to plate the eggs, goes to finish their breakfast. Goes just so he can come back, hold Eddie’s hand, watch him wake up. 

He hopes to every morning. 

For as long as Eddie with let him. 

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tagging list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

also just bc i think you might enjoy: @babydollbaron @spectrum-spectre

title from the Maggie Rodger’s song ‘That’s where I am’ (it’s rly good u should listen to it)

[macabr3-barbi3]

can you do a fic of alastor comforting the reader after a nightmare? more fluff then smut please <333

I went full fluff for this anon, I hope this is what you were looking for! Super short but I had a fun time writing this cute little thing, please feel free to shoot me another ask and let me know what you think <3 (I should be sleeping but decided to write and post this instead 💕)

Tags: fluff; Alastor x Reader; nightmares; comfort; established relationship

Possible tw/cw for drowning? just in case

The darkness of the night is interrupted only by the crack of lightning across the sky, static in the air, your cries swallowed up by the boom of thunder somewhere nearby. You don’t get a chance to inhale, fill your body with one last sweet gulp of air, before the tide takes you under, chest burning with the effort of trying to hold your breath. You can’t hold it- it breaks free of your mouth with a rush of bubbles and a scream that no one can hear with your head underwater. Knowing that you shouldn’t, muscle memory makes you inhale once again.

You know that you’re dreaming, but that doesn’t make the intake of water into your lungs any less terrifying.

Your hands fly to your throat to try to stop it- a pointless endeavor since it has already entered you, weighing your body down. Glancing towards your feet, another crack of lighting illuminates the water enough for you to see the rope around your ankle before the cinder block tied to the other end starts to descend, dragging you deeper and deeper into the murky depths. The dark gray of the sky fades quickly from your view as you sink, mouth open in another scream for someone- anyone - to save you.

A hand grips yours, tight around the wrist, and you cling to it- drag it down against your chest, press your lips to the skin you find there like it can somehow push air back into your lungs. Relief floods your veins, the warm palm against your own a physical reminder that despite everything you were not alone- drowning but moments from salvation.

When it tries to pull away you resist, dig your claws into your could-be savior, pleading words on your lips that can’t travel on airwaves beneath the water as they are. They pull harder, out of your grasp, and your tears become one with the sea as you are pulled to the bottom of it without them.

Screaming is what awakens you, the ache in your throat violent and sharp enough finally that you bolt upright in your bed, Alastor’s crimson gaze settled on your face, his smile grim and tense. He’s crouched over your frame and holds both of your hands in his, your elbows and legs still fighting against water that no longer surrounds you. There are tiny rivulets of blood on his wrists from where you had grabbed him.

You force yourself to relax, deep breaths that do nothing to soothe the burn in your throat. You stop fighting Alastor, make your limbs go still against him and collapse back against the bed. Tears burn at your eyes, not just those leftover from your dream but new ones at the thought of hurting him while he tried to help you.

“I’m so sorry.” Your voice is a quiet rasp and your body goes boneless, Alastor finally releasing his grip on your hands and leaning back. Unlike the first time this had happened, there is no frantic pounding at the door in response to your screams- he had taken care of that problem after Charlie had shown up to your room in a panic, Vaggie with her spear at the ready before Alastor had explained that it wasn’t necessary. It was only ever when you fell asleep at different times; when he had other matters to attend to in the hotel or radio studio, or times when you feel asleep waiting up for him. He had been horrified to discover them at first, but since becoming accustomed to them he was quick to give you comfort in the aftermath.

He collects you in his arms, pulls you against his chest with a hand in your hair and the other in yours. “No apology necessary, dear,” he murmurs, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. “I know it’s nothing you can control.”

“I hate this,” you whisper into his shirt. “I hate that it makes me so… so weak.”

You feel his head shake more than you see it. “Never,” he assures you. “You could never be such a thing.”

“You don’t have nightmares,” you say petulantly, and the vibration of his chuckle against you is something you could feel for centuries and never tire of.

“I have other terrors to face, I’m afraid. That doesn’t make the ones you handle any less difficult.”

You sigh, settling deeper into his embrace. “When you took my hand,” you say quietly, “it helped. It was like a lifeline- something to ground myself with. In the dream it felt like a rescue- I didn’t know it was you, I can’t get that far out of it to recognize that- but it helped me feel less alone.” You lower your gaze. “Less like I felt when I died.”

Panicked. Overwhelmed. Desperately, horribly isolated when you had been sent over the side of the ship all those years ago. There had been no cinder block- that part of the nightmare an unfortunate addition from your terrorized mind- your going overboard having been an accident, but the crashing of waves over your head as you tried to scream was always the same, the storm that raged overhead never ending as you had been left behind.

“Look at me.” He uses his hand in your hair to guide your face towards his, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before pressing your foreheads together. “I will never allow you to be in a situation like that again. Whether an external force or the horrors of your mind, I will always be here for you, darling.” With his other hand he gives yours a squeeze. “I will tie my hand to yours in the night if you desire, so I cannot pull away even by accident. So you always have that reminder that I’m beside you. I will not leave you behind.”

You fist your hand in his shirt, bury your face in the fabric so he can’t see the freshest tears. “I love you,” you say, and he brushes his hand gently through your hair once more.

“And I love you, dear. Rest easy now- I’m here with you. I always will be.” He hums something soft and gentle above you, and the low vibrations and the heat of him lulls you back into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

[meowufff]

This is my first actual post on Tumblr ever so pls bear with me. Also, English is not my first language so pls excuse any mistakes I make :)

So, this whole thing here started just as a joke bc I was curious if anyone else was feeling constantly tired all day no matter how long I sleep. But it all somehow escalated a bit and I may have started hyperfixating on it so well, now it actually became a little survey.

I also wanted to mention that I only asked the artist in my little Tumblr bubble, which is mostly tmnt content, so my results are mostly referring to tmnt artists.

In total, I asked 143 people if they could remember the last time they woke up and just felt actually rested for more than half of the day.

I probably could have been more specific with my question but again, I did not actually planned to let it become so big. Personally, for me being rested means, having a clear head, no headache or foggy mind without consuming any caffeine.

So out of 143 people, 100 answered me and I tried my best to sort all of the answers after the criteria “good-sleep-schedule” and “bad-sleep-schedule” and also noted when exactly they last felt actually rested into either the last days, weeks, months, years or “???” when they couldn’t remember or didn’t mention anything specific.

And let’s just say… it does not really look good. Out of 100 people, only 18 have an actual good sleep schedule. Out of these 18 people, 13 felt really rested in the last days, 2 in the last weeks, only one person in the last months and 2 in the last years.

Out of the 82 of people who have a bad sleep schedule, 10% lastly felt rested in the last days, 11% in the last weeks, 11% in the last months, 30% in the last years, and 38% couldn’t remember or didn’t specify it.

While reading all your answers I came to realize being sleep deprived is not just bc any of them thought “Oh it would be really neat to stay up till 4 am!” or smth like that.

A lot of the artists who answered me mentioned that they have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep due to stuff like insomnia, chronic pain, other issues, or children (yeah, ok, there was just one who had a child but still).

While analyzing I mostly referred the situations to my own experience with going to sleep or rather not going to sleep...

I usually don’t have problems falling asleep but trouble actually putting my stuff away and going to bed bc I don’t want to end the day or just don’t want to go to sleep (don’t ask why, I have no idea why I am like this). While having these “episodes” I often doodle smth, binge reading some fanfics, or watch whatever I can find on the internet until I’m just falling asleep or can convince myself that it is 3 am and I really should go to bed now.

So, my personal theory about why sleep deprivation is so common among Tumblr artists is not bc they do art all night. My theory is that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep due to insomnia, pain, or other issues are filling the time until they hopefully fall asleep with their art, doodles, writings, or whatever their creative minds can bring up, to help the time pass.

In total that would mean that not all artists are sleep deprived but more that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep do a lot of art or creative stuff in general.

Something I could also imagine is, that if they start doing art while waiting for sleep, they start to concentrate a lot on creating more and start procrastinating sleep even if they actually get tired bc they wanna do art and fuck up their non-existing sleep schedule even more but that could also just be me projecting here.

I know that is probably no kind of big revelation but for me it was kind of surprising to see how many people here are as sleep deprived as me and due to what reasons.

I’m not going to preach to any of you to get that problem solved or smth, I have no right to tell you what to do and would be a major hypocrite so instead I really which everyone to get some kind of good sleep schedule one day and the joy of waking up and feeling completely rested at least thrice per week.

I absolutely love all your art and thank you a thousand times for helping me with this spontaneous survey!

I would love to hear your opinions on my theory and conclusion so pls don’t be shy and feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made or tell me your own theories :D

Also, if my question is still sitting in your inbox, feel free to answer! I’m gonna keep ma big ass excel table so I can edit all the results anytime. And maybe, one day, I'm gonna continue this survey and go into more detail but for now I need to leave it like this.

Ok, that's all I got

BYE!

Thanks to all participants

@abbeyofcyn @angelpuns @beannary @bulbabutt @camilieroart @cementgeek @cheesyescapade @cokowiii @easterartist @frosteaart @gemini-forest @happyfoxx-art @heckitall @hellishgayliath @holy-sweetsour-milk @icepopcider @idiot-mushroom @iscreamkitty @kovalitics @laseralligator @lieutenantbiscute @matchstique @mightyanxiety @miiukkaa @mr-doodles @pezhead @probably-not-a-rutabaga @pumpkster @sad-leon @sassatello @sewercrocodileart @sheep-turtles-and-pizza @signanothername @spectra-bear @stephuart @tangledinink @tapakah0 @tasenwiththerobots @tblsomedoodles @thegunnsara @triona-tribblescore @turrondeluxe @valen-timez @vangh17a @wraenata @zinovi768 @debb987 @dianagj-art @goatedgreen @indieyuugure

[violentnewmarley]

can u write something where reader and bill have been together since they were kids and like they had their first kiss together and everything else as they get older and they are like super shy around eachother when talking abt sex and stuff thank u❤️❤️

Convenient.

Bill kaulitz x Fem!reader<3 (smut omg)

Tysm for requesting! I hope u don’t mind that I made it a smut, I just thought it was the best direction yk😵‍💫 Also I might like change my writing style but I’ll make a separate post abt that XD

warnings/content: smut (18+), switch!bill,softdom!bill,switch!reader,pinv,unprotected sex,foreplay,Alcohol use,i think that’s all?

• You had been dating Bill kaulitz since you were both young, but as you both got older and more (hormonal?😰) jokes and conversations surronding sex made you nervous. that aside- you and Bill had already shared many firsts, so why not add to the list?

Of course all of the other band members had picked up on the sexual tension and shy moments shared between the two of you. Tom knew it wasn’t likely for either you or bill to adress the awkwardness. So of course he disided to do it himself .

You were spending the night at the kaulitz twins, along with Georg and gustav. No parents were at the house, just you and the boys sitting in the living room drinking and laughing over dumb shit.

Tom took a sip from his beer and sighed “We should play something, try to make it more interesting” “Like what?” asked your perfect pookie pie princess boyfriend (sorry i didn’t know what to say😇)

“Maybe like truth or dare? That one’s a classic” said tom in response. Some time passed and Each of you did a few truths and dares, although nothing was too crazy.

You sat next to bill kept your head leaning against his shoulder, his hand in yours, and It soon became your turn again. Tom took a sip of his beer glaring at you and bill, you could see the intoxication on his face.

“Truth or dare y/n” you hesitate and think for a moment, scared of what he might say for either choice.

“Uhm- truth..?” You shrug, Giving him a half smile. Tom looks down and laughs, making you more nervous. He quickly looks back up trying not to laugh. “Have you and bill fucked yet?” You feel bills grip on your hand tighten. he gives Tom a half pissed/ half embarrassed stare. you bury your face onto the side of his arm wishing you could just hide.

Tom, Georg, and gustav all burst out into laughter. You and Bill start laughing as well, but it was more out of embarrassment and awkwardness than amusement.

Gustav interrupts the laughter smiling at Tom “you already know the answer to that Tom. God your horrible” causing them to laugh even more obnoxiously. But Gustav was right, Tom 100% knew, so he had purpously put you and Bill on the spot.

You all quickly got over it, and agreed on watching a movie in the living room. Although it didn’t take very long for everyone to fall asleep, except for you and Bill (ofc😉) you turn to him, finally realizing you were the only ones awake “could we maybe go to your room instead?” His face lights up. “Yeah, sure”

you shut the door as you walk into Bills room. He flops face first onto his bed and you follow, lying beside him. You place a few kisses to the back of his neck. He looks up at you and laughs, moving onto his side and grabbing the back of your head, Bill presses his soft lips against yours.

It doesn’t long until the two of you are full on making out. Bill kept you pinned down on your side, legs intertwined. Until all of a sudden he pulls away from the kiss. “you remember what Tom said earlier?” His voice was soft and raspy, and you could tell through his tone that he was nervous. “Uh yea, why?”

“well I mean like I was kinda wondering if-“ you cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask “yes.” You both smile, bringing your lips back together.

He didn’t particularly plan for tonight to be the night you both lost your virginity, but it seemed like the perfect time. He wanted to take it slow, so he started with moving his knee closer to your crotch. slowly jutting it against your core.

you moaned into his mouth, very much caught by surprise. he giggled, making you laugh too. Diving straight back into eachothers lips, Bill moved his hand to the bottom on your t shirt. Pushing his hand under the fabric, his finger tips grazed past your nipples as he slowly massaged your breast. “Billy I need you.” A smile creept up onto his lips as he pulled from the kiss “Oh, really?” you nod looking at him. “yes.”

“Liebe… we really don’t have to”

“I want to.” You smile up at Bill and He places a quick kiss on your lips before sitting up to remove his clothes, followed by yours. He takes a second looking at your body before laying back on top of you, muttering sweet complements and praises between gentle kisses.

Unsurprisingly followed by another heated makout but this time was different. Bills body was so close to yours, his erect member was teasing your slick hole. (HELP WHAT💀) you wanted him inside of you so bad.

“I wanna ride you” you pant. “Please do.” you quickly switch positions, straddling Bills lap with his hands rested on your waist. You raise up your hips, hovering over his cock. you cupped his chin giving him a kiss. “Please” Bill whimpers.

you smile, “please what?” his soft chocolate eyes looking up into yours. “Please fuck me y/n.”

your lips smash together, Gasping and Moaning into each others mouths as you set yourself down into his cock. You began moving slow, allowing yourself to ajust to his size, but sped up pretty quickly, his tip hitting your g-spot so good.🤨

soft whines and whimpers escaped his lips from the feat you felt, so tight and wet (wtf) “You feel so good ” Bill looked up at you, admiring your pretty expressions, his lips parted and eyebrows knitted close together.

Bill burys his head into your neck, moving one of his hands down to your clit, using his thumb to rub soft circles against it as you grind down onto his cock. The feeling sent a shock throughout your entire body.

you loudly moan, making Bill smirk into your neck, and you felt his cold tongue piecing run up the side of your neck, by him placing sloppy kisses behind your jaw. You grip his long black locks, holding him closer.

Bill speeds up his pace against your clit, and you can feel your orgasm approaching “m'gonna cum- .” he continues rubbing, whimpering in your ear. taking you over the edge as you cum around his cock.

your wetness makes Bill reach his high very quickly. you fall to his side and rub his cock with your hand, his cheeks tint red and back arches, spilling his own seed onto his stomach. You kneel down and lick it up, kissing your way back up to his lips.

you can feel bills warm breath on yours as you lay in each other's arms "you did so good baby, i love you." Laughter escaping both you lips “I love you too billy.”

im so sorry if this isnt very good and is like lowkey cringe af, i literally have no brain cells left </3 ALSO IDK IF ITS JUST ME RN BUT IM SO HORNY FOR HALLOWEEN AND CHRISTMAS OMFG😩 ive been watching reels nonstop cuz im so excited.

💟 @fishinaband @mikalame @nyxwritesshit @bbvoxstar

[wellgoslowly]

Hello! I was wondering if I can get a request please. The reader works for Lockwood and Co but she has the complete opposite personality of what Lockwood has (ex: reader is more of listener rather than a talker and when she is around new people she is more on the quiet side until she gets comfortable around them) and Lockwood falls for the reader. Thank you!

Ain't a Life a Many Splendored Thing?

a/n: a bit of a shorter post but I think I might make it into a series!! I loved this prompt and I loved writing it sm!!! it's not much but I didn't want to write more before knowing if yall would want a part 2 :) also yes the title is from hello hello by elton john from the hit movie gnomeo and juliet.

pairing: lockwood x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none :)

tags: @hufflepuff1619 (thank you for the request!) @oblivious-idiot @tangledinlove @ikeasupremacy @givemea-dam-break @neewtmas [if u guys want to be put on a tag list just lmk in the comments!!! also if i missed anyone im sorry!!!!]

The moment that you stepped into 35 Portland Row for your interview, it was obvious to everyone that Lockwood was a goner.

You two were clearly exact opposites- where he was confident and cocky, you seemed more reserved and humble. Where he was reckless, you seemed calculated and exact. And it was now evident that while he found it natural to talk in order to prevent awkward silences around new people (especially those whom he found to be very attractive), you were perfectly comfortable with listening to him ramble.

“And right up here is the attic.” He was saying now as the two of you climbed up the creaking stairs. “You've met Lucy, obviously- this is her room. And yours as well, if you choose to live here.” He watched you take in the room, filled with Lucy's drawings and scarce decorations on the walls, your eyes lingering on the small bed hastily shoved in the corner. He looked at you with apprehension, admittedly a little worried that you would turn to him and say that you'd changed your mind and reject the employment offer.

Instead, you turned to him with a slight smile on your face and said, “Is it ok with Lucy? If I stay here?” Instantly, Lockwood was filled with relief. “It was her idea, actually.” He said softly, watching you nod in understanding. “Alright then.” You said, a sense of finality in your voice. Lockwood smiled and watched as you walked to set the small bag of belongings you had taken to your interview on top of your new bed. “I'll leave you to it, then. Dinner should be ready soon.” He said to you. You didn't respond, but Lockwood wasn't worried- he knew exactly what your soft smile was meant to convey.

------

“Lockwood, I just- I don't know if she fits here.” It had been only 3 days after you had officially joined Lockwood & Co., but Lockwood wasn't necessarily surprised by the remark George threw him from across the table that morning. You and Lucy were asleep, still tired after facing an infuriating ambush from a large cluster of Type Ones while on a Type Two case.

“What do you mean, George?” Lockwood asked as he took a sip of his tea. “I mean, she's just so quiet. She never speaks, and when she does it's either in one word responses or a couple phrases- even then, she mostly only ever talks to you. I'm just worried about how well she'll be able to communicate in the future.” George explained, his hands moving wildly about.

“You haven't seen her in the field, George- she's brilliant. Her sight is comparable to mine, and her touch… it's like Lucy with her Listening. Yes, she's a bit… reserved, but I'm sure she just needs to warm up to us, is all.” Lockwood smiled at his friend as he took another sip of tea, peeling open the front page of a new issue of True Hauntings.

“Don't think I didn't notice how you avoided the comment about how she only seems to talk to you.” George grumbled, taking a bite out of a piece of toast. Lockwood didn't look up from the text on the page in front of him as he mumbled a soft “I don't know what you're talking about.” George scoffed in response, starting to say something that sounded a lot like “you're clearly gone for her, why do I even try”, when you walked in, hair amess and blinking sleep out of your eyes.

The kitchen fell into immediate silence, George's face flushing in embarrassment as you looked at him, your expression unreadable. “If you're going to talk about me, you could at least do it while I'm around.” Lockwood looked up at that as he didn't notice you silently entering the kitchen. He took in your sleep-addled state and the look of fear in George's eyes. And then you were softly smiling. “I was joking, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.” You said before sitting down next to Lockwood.

George snorted. “I think that's the most you've said to me the entire time you've been here.” George said, apparently taking your joke to heart. Lockwood softly kicked George under the table, but you just laughed a little.

Deciding to change the subject, Lockwood turned to you with a smile. “I'm sorry for him. What he meant to say was good morning. Would you like some tea?” You smiled at Lockwood, and he was hit with the thought that it mightve been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. “Yes, please.” You responded. Lockwood nodded, getting up to turn the kettle on once more.

The morning passed like that- you and George softly trading barbs with one another, Lockwood making you your tea and toast, and Lucy stumbling in once you were almost done with breakfast and mumbling a “gmornin” to you and the boys. Soon, the discussion turned from an easygoing conversation over breakfast and lapsed into a more serious discussion as Lockwood started explaining the cases that you all had scheduled for that night.

You and Lockwood would be going out to a house that was reported to contain a Type Two and a couple Type Ones, George would be staying home to do some research for a bigger case the four of you had coming up the next week (he had also gotten injured a couple of days ago and his wound hadn't fully healed), and Lucy would be going to an office afflicted by a couple Type Ones.

Lockwood had been too busy dishing out the information for the night's events to realize that you hadn't been talking. It was only after Lucy and George had nodded in understanding and set out to set their own respective tasks- Lucy heading down to the basement and George getting ready to go to the Archives- when Lockwood looked to you and realized that you had been drawing on the Thinking Cloth the entire time.

He leaned over slightly, watching as you drew a small landscape on a tiny piece of empty space with a green pen that Lockwood wasn't sure he had ever seen before. He smiled as you drew, watching the concentration on your face. “Did you hear the cases for tonight?” He asked softly, watching the quirk at the corner of your lips.

“George is doing research, Lucy's got a couple of Type Ones, and you and me have got the Type Two.” You clicked your pen, signaling that you were finished with your drawing, and then you turned to look at Lockwood. “How'd I do?” You asked softly. “With the cases, or the drawing?” You shrugged, a look in your eyes that told him “both.” He smiled. “Excellent.” He whispered, making you smile.

Eventually, the two of you migrated from the kitchen to the library. Lockwood sat in his favorite armchair, surveying a stack of recent magazines as he decided which one to read first. You left the room quickly, and Lockwood frowned at your departure as he settled into the chair with a week old gossip rag.

But as quickly as you left, you had returned, a book in your hand as you sat down in the chair next to Lockwood. You two sat there for a while, Lockwood taking breaks to explain to you different London Society news while you happily listened and Lockwood smiling to himself every time you reached a point in your book that made you laugh or make some sort of exclamation of disbelief.

He was content, he realized, to just sit there and exist by your side. While he normally felt the need to make his presence known, to charm and impress anyone he might’ve just met, he found that he was very happy to just sit and read with you.

An hour or so later, Lockwood decided that he wanted to go down to the basement and get some training in before the case that night. He was about to ask you if you'd care to join before he noticed that you had fallen asleep, arms curled around your legs and head laying peacefully against the cushioning of the chair. He smiled as he closed his magazine, getting up slowly and draping a blanket over you without a sound.

As Lockwood walked out of the library, he realized that George had been right. Not about you not fitting in- no, you had definitely proven George wrong. Instead, he was forced to admit that George might've been right about Lockwood being gone for you.

hehehe thanks for reading!!! I just put in my 2 weeks at my soul sucking part time job so I'll hopefully have more motivation to work on these hehe!!! I'll also be making a masterlist very soon- I've been meaning to do that for a while

also if yall want a part 2, pls lmk! I loved writing this and I think I could do a lot more w it hehehehe. anywhom if you've read this far, thank you for reading!!! love u!

mwah, linnie

[athanza]

Starlett - Final part

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, romance, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2077

That night, after dinner, Irene found Cooper on the sofa with Janey asleep on his lap, watching an old noire film with the volume down low.

"Thank you very much for dinner Mr. H- Cooper." She corrected herself, speaking low so as not to wake Janey. "It was lovely."

He looked up as she walked over. "It was no trouble at all. Janey loved having you here."

She smiled at his daughters sleeping face as she sat down on the edge of the sofa. "You've got a good kid there."

He looked down at her proudly. "Yeah, I sure do."

"She reminds me of my baby sister, she lives with my folks in Sacramento. I don't get to see her much anymore with my work and everything with Frank and Lee. It'll be good to see her again."

"How long has it been?"

"Almost 2 years. I know my sister resents me for how much I'm away, but hopefully that'll change now that I'll be away from Frank, at least until the divorce proceedings." She sighed with uneasiness.

"You'll be fine." Said Cooper encouragingly. "You're stronger than you think."

"Ditto." She smiled warmly. "And don't worry about Janey, you both love her so much. She'll understand when she's older, I promise."

He smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you."

She looked into his eyes and saw something she never had, a good man, a man who loves unconditionally and stands up for his family.

She, just for a moment, imagined what it would be like if he was her husband instead of Frank, if Janey were their daughter, if this was her life and not the daily abuse she had been going home to every night.

She could feel emotions begin to well behind her eyes and she snapped out of it before she embarrassed herself.

"Well, I should get some sleep, I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Thank you again."

The warmness that emanated from her was a welcome comfort in the midst of everything that had happened in the last few months. He almost didn't want her to leave, but he couldn't let himself fall, not now, not for her. They were meant for another time, another world, not this one.

"Irene?" Said Cooper, stopping her before she left. "This whole thing with Vault Tec...something's happening, something I'm not sure we'll ever come back from.

You're free from it now. Whatever's coming...it won't be worth giving up your happiness."

What he said about Vault Tec concerned her, not that it was surprising, but he was right about her happiness, he was right about everything. She wasn't going to be held back any longer.

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly.

2296

The sky was still dark when he left the cave. He'd covered Irene with whatever he could find to try to conceal her from raiders, hoping nothing else would find her while he was gone.

He knew there was a clinic in this area somewhere but whether it had anything left in it was a gamble.

As he made his way hastily through the area, he couldn't stop thinking about her and it just made him angry, 219 years of trying to become the monster that he had to be in order to survive, only for her to show up and remind him of that warmth that he'd long since forgotten. It made him weak, but he couldn't let her die, not now.

He heard movement up ahead, two men laughing drunkenly as they stumbled to find somewhere to relieve themselves.

Raiders.

The cages and skewered bodies around the building were a dead give-away and their little base just happened to be the clinic he was looking for.

Jackpot. They definitely had a stash in there somewhere.

The two men separated to find somewhere to piss but just as one got comfortable, Cooper blast his head off and took the other one out just a split second later.

"Oh HELL no!" Came a voice from the doorway of the clinic.

Without hesitation, Cooper shot him too, a bloody mess left on the door frame behind where he had been standing.

He stormed inside, his pump-action shotgun in hand, willing to use up all of his ammo to get what he needed.

Bullets and wood chips were flying every which way, and he took a bullet or two, but it took him no time at all to obliterate every person in that building.

He searched hastily for supplies, and when he found a first aid box full of stimpaks and cotton thread, he grabbed it and left, picking up several blood packs on his way out.

2077

The next morning, Irene was up early, her bag already in her car when Cooper came out to meet her.

"You weren't kiddin' about leavin' early." He said, the clock in the hallway reading 7:12am.

"I thought it'd be best if I left earlier rather than later."

He knew why. He didn't argue.

"Give this to Janey for me, would you? I noticed she liked it and I know it'll be in good hands."

She handed Cooper a silver locket with a daisy engraved delicately on the front.

He looked at it a bit surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't much care for it anymore. It'll be more appreciated with her." She smiled.

She did one last check of her purse to make sure she had everything and the tention in the air was starting to thicken. When she knew she had everything, she looked back up at him.

"Cooper?" She asked. "Do me a favour and don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak, always remember that, ok?"

She leant forward and kissed his cheek. "See you 'round cowboy."

She smiled at him one last time before getting in her car, and as he watched her drive away he felt his heart ache a little. He would miss her, her warm smiles, and how she made Janey laugh, but it wasn't meant to be, and he knew that.

2296

He pulled off the foliage covering her now pale body and opened the case.

Her breathing was shallow and laboured, a puddle of blood underneath her that had started to coagulate.

He used one of the stimpaks, then another, then another until he had used all six, then pulled out the thread and started sewing up the deep gashes on her side that were sticky with blood.

He remembered the last time he saw her, her smile, the kiss. He remembered watching her drive away and wishing she hadn't. He remembered the last things she said to him.

"...don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak..."

When he finished sewing, he hung up one of the blood bags and attached the long tube to her arm.

He was still and focused, hoping he wasn't too late, his hands now covered in her blood.

When she woke up after only a few minutes, she saw him sitting by the fire beside her and smiled sleepily.

"Hey there cowboy."

The End

[blaisenova]

ermmmm like i dunno if you're still doing requests buttt could you do like kustard but it turns to dustard

that dynamic always interested me but i never see much about it :3

anon, has anyone ever told you that you're a genius?

the kustard to dustard pipeline is WOEFULLY UNEXPLORED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD. so, naturally, i was REALLY excited when i got this ask. yippie!!! an excuse to write fun fucked up dynamics!!!!!

this one is pretty tame. i can't think of any warnings you might need other than it being like..... long and, obviously, kinda angsty. it's fluffy in the end tho. but that's what you get when you ask me to write i guess LOL

thank you all for the requests btw!! i was NOT expecting so many after the kist fic, but i am pleasantly surprised and am trying to chip away at them as quickly as i can. spat this one out in a few hours, so it might not be my best work, but i'm happy with how it turned out either way :)

as always, the link to this fic on ao3 will be in the reblogs once it's posted, if that's your cup of tea (as it is mine LMAO)

i hope this feeds you well anon. thank you for the ask <3

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place.

Or, at least, that was what Red had wholeheartedly believed up until he’d met his other self, in a universe that was so very unlike his own. A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Initially, Red hated Sans. 

It felt ridiculous, looking back upon it – in the moments when his head lay in Sans’ lap and gentle fingers traced over his scars like they were poetry written in a language Red had never bothered to learn, and he wondered what Sans saw in him that he hadn’t seen; wondered if this was what it felt like to love himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d grown were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Sans wasn’t so much like hating himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Sans was so unsuspecting that Red had been foolish enough to let his guard down, forgetting that then was when feeling was the most liable to appear. 

He hadn’t expected to fall in love with the laugh – genuine, unabashed, and lacking all of the gruffness of his own – of someone whose humour was just as terrible as his own.

He’d been far too blind to realise how incredibly endearing it was for someone to wake up and allow themselves to be bleary and half-asleep, cuddling into his arm without even meaning to, even if it meant opening themselves up to being easily picked off.

In allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would bleed him dry so tenderly and lovingly that he couldn’t even think to fight against the bloodloss; when, instead, he’d lean into the knife and ask them to twist it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Though, it was a small price to pay to hear that raucous laughter over jokes that weren’t even funny. Trivial, really, in comparison to soft smiles and gentle touches that moved slowly just to prove to him how tender the world could really be.

“Earth to Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. For once, it was, just to be soft.

“Come in, Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

Tiredly, he bat away the hand that waved in front of his sockets, only to grab it by the wrist and pull it back down, firmly, on the crown of his skull. With a laugh, the fingers scratched gentle circles into the bone, and Red hummed happily at the feeling, allowing his sockets to slip shut as he lay against Sans’ legs.

“Where’d you go, space cadet?”

“Nowhere,” he grumbled, sighing softly as he fully relaxed into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

Again, there was that laugh, and Red’s soul fluttered. “With your eyes open?”

“It’s a little known talent of mine,” he hummed.

“Gee, must be handy,” came the response, and amusement never sounded so beautiful. “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

“Nuh uh,” and he couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “It’s genetic.”

“Ah, damn. Guess we gotta add that to the list of differences.”

“Guess so.” His breath hitched as the hand on his head trailed downward to cup his cheek. His browbones furrowed, ever so slightly, and he felt himself go tense.

“Hey. Look at me.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets, and there was no sight more welcome than the face of his lover. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment: smooth bone, unmarred by chips and cracks; eyelights that glowed softly in dark sockets, like how he imagined fireflies might; ever present, gentle smile that smoothed away his worries. Oh, to be so untouched by cruelty. He’d do anything to keep it that way.

“‘Sup,” he breathed, and Sans’ smile widened as he snorted.

“‘Sup,” he returned. His thumb ran circles over his cheek, and Red leaned into the touch. “You okay?”

With a snicker, he rolled his eyelights at the question. “Super duper.”

Despite himself, Sans laughed too, but, still, pressed on. “You sure? You were spacing out pretty bad before. Like, way out in deep space,” he emphasised, unnecessarily. “No planets around, just stars. Way beyond our galaxy. Uncharted territory. Where no man has gone before.”

“Alright, alright, I get the picture” Red interrupted, though not without chuckling. “‘M okay. Was just thinking.”

When Sans’ head cocked to the side, Red couldn’t help but grin. “About?”

“Uranus.”

At first, his sockets simply narrowed, confused, then all at once, “Ura– Oh. Alright, perv. Har har.”

But, he was laughing, and Red was, too, like it was the funniest joke in the world despite it not even being funny. Maybe it didn’t matter, if Red was the one to say it; if Sans was the one to laugh. Maybe, then, it could be good, even if it wasn’t, really. The sound of their laughter, something shared and sacred, was what Red imagined it might feel like to hear the birds chirp when the sun rose and turned the sky whatever colours it was supposed to when it drove the night away. He hoped that it was blue, like Sans’ favourite colour, but the pictures in his textbooks were too faded to be sure.

When he tuned back in, the laughter had tapered off.

“You do that a lot, y’know,” Sans noted, almost absentmindedly, and his hands turned back to trailing shapes on Red’s skull.

He grunted at the feeling. “Do what?”

“Go to space,” Sans said, simply. “Or… somewhere else. That I can’t reach.”

Red frowned, closing his sockets to cut off the dull thrum of agony he felt in his soul whenever Sans’ smile didn’t reach his eyes like that. “I do it less than I used to. It used to be better, somewhere else – anywhere else – but ‘m not so sure anymore.”

“Where would you wanna go?” he asked, in a whisper. “If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

For a moment, Red considered. The answer would have been easy before – the surface, of course. Where Paps and every other monster longed to be – but access to the multiverse had opened up options that he’d never known existed. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden, why should he want to look for it anywhere else?

“Think I’d rather just stay here,” he hummed. “With you.”

Maybe he should have questioned the way that Sans’ hands stilled at his answer. Maybe he should have opened his eyes; looked at his face; seen his expression; known what it meant.

But, he didn’t.

“Geez,” Sans breathed, with a laugh that sounded breathless. “My answer feels stupid in comparison.”

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

“Anywhere else. Anywhere at all.”

In hindsight, Red should have known it was too good to last; too good to stay good.

A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Of course, there was a catch. 

There was always a catch. Every childish fantasy grew tainted with time, like the innocence of children was stripped with age. Every fairy tale book grew weary and old, pages yellowed and frayed. Every picture faded, until you couldn’t be sure whether the sky was blue or grey.

But, you hoped it was blue anyway, and maybe that was your mistake.

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place. That was what Red wholeheartedly believed. Maybe, after all, there was a reason that love and LOVE were spelled the same.

Try as he might, though, Red could not hate him.

It felt ridiculous – in the moments when hands clamped around his neck like a vice, choked by the grip and the grief that came with it, as if the two were one in the same, and they would both cry, both tremble in fear, or fury, or something worse, and Red would think that this was what it was like to hate himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d changed were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Dust wasn’t so much like loving himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Red had underestimated Dust as he had been before; had assumed that kindness meant the incapacity for cruelty.

And, in allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would leave scars so deep that all he could think of was how much he missed the feeling; when he’d search for the knife and throw himself against it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Before, he’d thought it was a small price to pay. Trivial, really, in comparison to what he had to gain from it. As if it were a simple transaction as opposed to something living, and breathing, and ever changing; as if he would never have to be the one who was tender; as if that made it anything less valuable.

“Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. Just as before, it was. Harsher now, but Dust had taught Red to be soft, and Red would teach him what he’d forgotten.

“Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

With a jolt, he came back to reality to a slap on the face, not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to be startling. He frowned, but, nonetheless, took his hand by the wrist and guided it to the crown of his skull. Hesitantly, as if spurred on by some muscle memory, the fingers ran in gentle circles across his bone, and Red hummed in approval at the feeling as he lay against Dust’s legs.

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” he mumbled, unconsciously leaning into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“With your eyes open,” Dust said, and it wasn’t a question. “Freak.”

Immediately, Red snorted. “Guess we gotta add that to the list of similarities.”

Despite himself, Dust laughed; the sound short, subdued, and nothing like the laugh he’d fallen in love with, but something about it made his soul flutter, nonetheless. “Guess so.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment – as they had before – smooth bone that crackled and buzzed with magic, refusing to be underestimated; eyelights that glowed brightly in dark sockets, like how he imagined neon signs would on a city street in the middle of the night; a face shrouded by shadow, as if it was saved for him alone to see. In the end, he’d been marred by cruelty despite Red’s best efforts, but he was beautiful nonetheless.

“‘Sup,” Dust mumbled, and the edges of his mouth quirked up in an attempt at a smile.

Slowly, Red lifted his hand and, ever so gently, cupped Dust’s cheek, pausing when his breath hitched, but, with the same caution, Dust leaned into the touch; barely enough to be noticed, but Red noticed. This time, he saw. “‘Sup,” he finally returned. “You okay?”

“You’re going to disappear,” Dust whispered, and his voice broke on the words in a way that made Red feel hollowed out. “You’re going to go somewhere else. Somewhere that I can’t reach. Like you do when you go to space. It scares me.”

Browbones furrowed, Red ran gentle circles across his love’s cheek, staying silent as Dust took in a shuddering breath to continue; a quirk Red had grown accustomed to.

“I remember what you told me before,” he said, and his hand came up to desperately hold Red’s to his face, like he might forget it was there if he didn’t make sure. “That you did it because it was better to be somewhere else – anywhere else. Do you want that now? To be somewhere else? Away from me?”

“No,” Red said, and the lack of hesitation in his answer surprised even himself. “I don’t want that.”

Again, Dust’s breath hitched, and he frowned, like the answer wasn’t enough, and, maybe, it wasn’t. His fingers threaded between Red’s, and, when he clutched onto his hand, Red squeezed back, holding him with desperation to match. Dust laughed, a breathless sound. “I’m not the person that you loved.”

Scoffing, Red rolled his eyelights at the notion. “Of course you are.”

“I’m not,” Dust insisted, and something about it was a plea.

“Then,” he breathed, “I love you. This you.”

And, with a breath that was cut off with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Dust leaned forward – over Red’s body, as if to trap him – and pressed his chest against Red’s. His ribs fluttered with each breath, and Red guided his stuttering breaths with deep inhales that interlocked their ribs with each one. His hand remained stuck to Dust’s cheek, and he squeezed gently, relieved when Dust squeezed back to let him know he was still here; in this reality, not another.

“Breathe,” Red commanded, soft; soft, like he’d been taught. “I’m here.”

Dust took a heaving breath – deep, frantic, like he’d been drowning – and, in a voice that sounded so much like before – reminding Red once more that this was the person he loved, despite the change – he whispered, “Where would you wanna go? If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

The question made him sputter, for a moment. Then, with a breathless laugh, “Seriously?”

“Please,” he pleaded, so what could Red do but answer?

The answer would have been easy before – here; here, just like before – but, despite how they fought against it, things had changed. Did that mean his answer had to change? That his longing had to shift, too? The multiverse was infinite. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Maybe even somewhere that Sans stayed Sans, but would it be the same? Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden – had been ripped from Dust’s grasp with the signature ruthlessness of the multiverse – then why shouldn’t Red be it? Like Dust had been for him, before.

“Think I’d like to stay here,” he hummed. “With you. Still.”

And, this time, Red noticed the way that Dust’s breathing slowed to a stop; felt the way that his magic crackled between his joints; how something wet slipped between their fingers on Dust’s cheek; knew what it meant.

“Okay,” Dust whispered.

“What about you? Where would you go?”

There was a pause – a moment as Dust inhaled once more; held Red’s hand tight, but oh, so gentle – before he managed to answer. “Here,” he said. “With you.”

[absolutewhore101]

Better Man - Chapter 5

A/N: here's chapter 5! taglist is being updated with every post, so lmk if you want to be added/removed. i'm looking to do updates every monday, so stay tuned :)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Listen to 'Better Man' by Taylor Swift; Stage 3 - bargaining (kind of)

Warnings: swearing, Joel

Word Count: 1.4K

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

This is a journal entry.

MINORS DNI

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stairs leading up to your bedroom had never felt so tiresome, but you were dragging yourself up by the time you reached the top. 

That fight never should have happened. Carly never should’ve happened. Joel never should have happened. All you needed was the reassurance that you did the right thing, but who could you even go to?

You were sure that the people you’d come to call friends almost certainly knew about Joel, and none of them had told you. 

You couldn’t talk to Tommy, that much was obvious. You thought about talking to Ellie, but even if she did know, this wasn’t her problem. 

Was it only you? Were you truly the last person to know?

You sat down on the edge of your bed, staring at the wall in front of you. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, all of them focused on Joel. 

How could he have done this? There was nothing you could’ve done to stop him once he started, but wasn’t there something you could’ve done to prevent it?

Why weren’t you enough?

A tear dropped off the bottom of your chin, landing delicately on your hand. 

You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the notebook you’d had for a few months. That journal was the only thing you felt truly comfortable sharing everything with after you found out about Joel. 

You fished around for a pen, but came up empty. Walking past Ellie’s room, you peeked in, finding her gone. 

You shook your head, assuming she had never come home in the first place, as you made your way downstairs.

Walking into the kitchen felt more painful than it should’ve - Joel’s coffee mug was on the counter, rings stained around the inside of it. The book he’d been reading left on the table, bookmarked to the page he'd left off on. 

You walked past all of it and went to the junk drawer, grabbing a pen and heading into the living room. 

You sat down on the couch, pulling your feet up underneath you, and started writing. 

I know…

You paused. 

What did you know?

I know that I’m probably better off on my own. Better off than loving a man who didn’t know what he had when he had it.

You wiped your face, willing your bottom lip to stop trembling. 

You flipped back through the pages you’d already written in, rereading the words you’d spilled when you started to suspect Joel was cheating on you. 

It was easy to see the permanent damage that he’d done to you. You weren’t sure you’d ever find love in the world after it ended, and you were certain you’d never find it again. 

And then you flipped back even further, back to the hearts and doodles and the love you’d needed so badly to get out. 

Why couldn’t you just forget when it was magic? When everything was okay?

There were so many thoughts swirling around in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put them on paper. Instead, you placed your journal on the coffee table and went back upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. 

You splashed some water on your face, hoping to rid yourself of the redness that occupied your cheeks.

“You know you had to do it.” You muttered. 

God, why did it have to be like this? You used to be curled up in bed with Joel by this point, whispering sweet words to each other until you fell asleep. 

Now, it was the middle of the night, and you were trying to convince yourself that the bravest thing you’ve ever done in this fucked up world was run. 

From Joel and everything he signified now. From Tommy and the sympathy that could only go so far. From all of Jackson, and the inevitable stares that you were expecting. 

You walked back into your bedroom, pulling back the covers and laying down. 

“I just miss you.” You whispered into the dark. “But I just wish you were a better man.”

—---------

When you woke up, you found yourself reaching for his side of the bed, only to find it empty. 

The events of last night came rushing back to you, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. 

You got out of bed, trudging down the hallway and back downstairs. You didn’t have the appetite for breakfast, but you suddenly found the inspiration to write. 

Your journal felt heavier than it ever had before, and you knew it was the weight of the words you’d written last night. You couldn’t help but wonder how much heavier it’d feel in a few days, and if it would ever feel so light again. 

I know that I’m probably better off all alone. I don’t need a man who can change his mind at any given minute. 

And suddenly, the sadness you had felt just last night had morphed into anger. 

And it was always on his terms! I waited on every word that came out of his mouth, hoping they’d turn sweet again… like they were in the beginning. 

The jealousy that he had for you that you were never able to place popped into your mind. 

He’d always been jealous of the love you were able to so freely give - he’d said so himself one night. He didn’t understand how you could love him so unconditionally, could love the world so openly. 

Was that when he started talking down to you? When he realized that he’d never be good enough for you? 

He talked to you like he knew you’d always be around, and maybe you would’ve. Maybe you would’ve stayed with him if he talked to you like that - pushing your love away like it was some kind of loaded gun. 

But you couldn’t be the third person in your relationship. You should’ve been the first, and Joel just didn’t seem to get that. 

And he never thought you’d run. 

You looked out the window, seeing a crowd of people gathering in the middle of town. You stood up, trying to get a better view of what was happening. 

All of a sudden, laughter sounded, loud enough that you could hear it inside your house. 

Curiosity got the best of you, so you opened your door, walking out onto your porch. 

You could finally see what everyone was crowded around - Joel. 

“I’m shocked you survived!” Someone yelled. 

“Yeah, looks like it did a number on you!”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Had he gone on a run this morning? Had an infected gotten too close?

Tommy walked around the crowd, eyes locked on you. You wanted to turn around and go back inside, locking the door behind you, but something kept you rooted in your spot. 

“What’s going on?” You asked him once he was close enough to hear you. 

Tommy shook his head, gesturing you to go back inside. 

You were ready to protest, to tell him he had no right to step foot in your house, but he spoke before you could.

“Please. They don’t need to see this.”

You followed him inside, shutting the door behind you as Tommy turned to face you. 

“What were they talking about?” You said, anxiety creeping into you. 

Tommy hesitated before he answered. 

“You.”

“Me?” You asked.

He nodded. “You, Joel… last night. Word got around pretty fast that he’d moved in with Carly and people came knocking.”

You felt nauseous. The town you lived in, the people you once called friends, were celebrating that Joel was finally free of you. And he was loving it. 

Your knees buckled, but Tommy caught you before you could hit the floor, helping you walk over to the couch. 

“This can’t be real.” You muttered, looking up at him. 

His lips drew into a thin line. “I’m afraid it is.”

Your eyes closed, head tipping back to rest against the back of the couch. 

If Joel was a better man, this wouldn’t be happening. 

If Joel was a better man, you’d still be in love. 

“Tommy?” You said.

“Yeah.” He responded. 

“I know why I had to say goodbye to Joel like the back of my hand, but why couldn’t he just be a better man?”

Tommy’s jaw clenched, head swimming as he thought about what Joel had put you through, and how he hadn’t done anything to stop it. 

“I don’t know.” 

That was the last thing he said before he walked out of your house, gently closing the door behind him. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there on the couch, tears falling down your cheeks, before you picked your journal back up. 

He would’ve been the one if he was a better man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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