#sometimes it just takes brute strength

[full-of-malice]

Gregory: It's locked. You got a lock pick?

Glamrock Freddy: Yeah-

Monty: *kicks in the door*

[dante-mightdie]

just saw the price drama this morning + simon 'never felt the warm touch of a woman' riley and just had a thought👊

reader is ofc hesitant, but doesn't feel too threatened because as intimidating as he appears to be, he's just so—him. a bit better than price.

to me after reading it, he seems like the acts of service kinda guy or actions instead of words🤷🏽‍♀️

probably the latter.

in the end I feel like she'd just see him as this clingy overgrown touchy puppy.

like like, he just grabs her for another bath in the river and she goes "are we gonna bath again?" no response "ah, we are"

DNJSHSJA

simon takes REALLY good care of her, after all, she's a gift to him from the gods, right?

god I just want him 😡 let me nurture him and take care of him (he could literally kill me with his bare hands)

c/w: none really, mentions of groping, scars

he’ll never admit it, but he was terribly lonely before he found you. the main reason he’s so quiet is not because of the years of torture and trauma that he endured (well, partly) but because he just never had a reason to speak. who would he be speaking to?

sometimes he hurts you, never on purpose and never seriously. he’s just a big man who forgets his own strength so please don’t hold it against him. he doesn’t know how to ask you to do things so he just manhandles you into it instead

and when I said he’s never felt the warm touch of a woman, I meant it. it isn’t even necessarily sexual when he grabs your breasts at night, you’re just so warm and soft so he wants to touch you :( please let him

you can touch him too, if you want to. he won’t stop you when you trace the litany of scars scattered over his body. until your fingers dance a bit too close to a large jagged one on his ribcage, then he just tightly grips your wrist and moves your hand back to his chest

he makes you feel safe. hugging you tighter to his chest when he feels you trembling to the sounds of wolves howling near his hut. even though you haven’t known him long, you’re strangely aware that this big brute won’t let any harm come to you

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓1K FOLLOWERS SPECIAL𖤓

💜(N)SFW HEADCANONS💜

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, body descriptions (miguel is all buff and reader is curvy), size kink, manhandling, floor sex, oral (f. receiving), rough-ish sex, choking w/ bicep, 69, just the tip

Summary: miguel being a big, beefy man

A/N: tysm for 1000 followers!!

SFW

This man breaks EVERYTHING. Both in fits of rage, and just when using everyday items, Miguel's pure, superhuman strength just leads to him accidentally breaking shit all of the time. He has most definitely hurled the remote at the TV screen while watching soccer, also has probably broken things like glasses or mugs in his unintentionally firm grip before. He's always laughing embarrassedly and apologising for it, although deep down he's genuinely shamed of his brute strength and always having to go out and buy replacements for the things he breaks.

It's funny to watch him use utensils, brush his teeth, talk on the phone etc., because his hands are so big that everything looks comically tiny in his grasp. Also, Miguel purposefully puts things on high shelves to show off how tall he is. If you're struggling to reach something, he's definitely the type to reach for it from behind you and make you beg him to hand it to you. He's an asshole a tease who can't resist bragging about how much bigger and stronger he is compared to you.

He uses you as weights when he works out. It doesn't matter how heavy you are, since Miguel can canonically lift up to 10 tons, so he only works out for definition/tone rather than strength. He loves hearing your shocked gasps and giggles when he pushes you up suddenly while benching you, or when he curls your cute body and you blush every time he pecks your face when he lifts you towards him.

Miguel is always open to carrying you. He isn't into PDA, but his exception is the way you pout and complain about your feet hurting, and he's always quick to effortlessly scoop you up bridal style and carry you around the street, keeping you nestled against his warm tits chest. He also insists on carrying groceries and laundry, and he absolutely loves it when you ask for help/give him a task that requires him to show off his strength. Miguel is the king of princess treatment and will happily wait on your hand and foot if you ask, solely because he's physically capable of doing so.

Sometimes Miguel can be insecure about his strength because of the trauma associated with his mutant powers and his self-destructive tendencies, but the way that you give him a space to drop the tough, intimidating act makes him want to cry. You know he's a strong guy, but you never take advantage of his superhuman abilities. He just wants to be loved, he doesn't want to be seen as the scary animal he's made out to be.

NSFW

Following on from the "breaks everything" headcanon, Miguel has most definitely broken things while you guys have sex. In fear of hurting you, Miguel has a tendency to grip the headboard, the sheer strength in his hold causing the wood to snap in his hands. Obviously, the force of his thrusts has caused the bed itself to collapse underneath the two of you, but whenever it's happened Miguel has just dragged you onto the floor, kissed you on the cheek, and continued. He's a man on a mission when he's inside you.

Miguel treats you like a rag doll, he manhandles you completely. He makes sure not to hurt you too badly, but he likes to throw you around, lift you up, and pin you in place. He can easily contort your body into any position he pleases, and support you no matter what. When he eats you out, you can barely muster the energy to squirm, because he’s got your thighs wedged open with his broad shoulders, his rough hands keeping you spread. Sometimes, he’ll lift you up over his shoulders and eat your pussy while standing, leaving you dangling in the air and grabbing his hair helplessly as he keeps his hands hooked underneath your knees.

This headcanon is dedicated to Miguel’s arms. More specifically, Miguel putting you in a chokehold while he’s hitting it from the back. Heavy balls slapping against your clit as his bulging bicep engulfs your throat, restricting your breathing so deliciously that you’re panting and drooling all over the mass of beautiful tan skin and hard muscle underneath your chin, his pulsing veins caressing your throat with an almost sinful delicacy. His free hand gropes the fat of your waist and your ass, each slap that lands on your big butt making you squeal in pure ecstasy, to which his beefy arm squeezes around you tighter to stop you from escaping his deep strokes into your sopping cunt. Definitely talks to you half-degrading, half-praising just to make your mind spin and your pussy clench around him. “Keep taking it, sweetheart. Doing so good for me. You still breathing? Or am I fucking you so good you’ve forgotten how to do it, niña tonta?”

(This one is HEAVILY inspired by @mybvalentine’s 69ing with Miguel blurb because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I read it 🤭) But 69ing would definitely be a competition between you and Miguel, in the sense that you'd both be competing to taste each other. Miguel is so tall, and by comparison, you're so much smaller than him, so unless the two of you are willing to strain your necks and bodies by leaning in to suck and nibble at each other's essence, 69ing is a test of your patience. While Miguel has you pulled back, sitting on his face as he feverishly eats you out, you're stuck watching the way his pretty cock weeps at the taste of your slick coating his tongue, making you insatiably hungry for him. When you finally escape his grasp and lay forward with Miguel's dick prodding at the depths of your warm throat, Miguel groans at the way a combination of his spit and your juices dribbles onto his pecs, causing him to compromise and helplessly finger your weeping hole, scooping up your slick and bringing it to his mouth so that he can taste you again as you swallow and choke around his big cock.

Miguel is too big. Like, I’ve said in other posts, his dick can be unbearable at times, the dull aching off his cock stretching you out and filling every crevice occasionally becoming a relentless throbbing sensation. So, when you’re just too tight and he’s too thick to handle, Miguel will do just the tip to give your thoroughly bruised cervix a break. Even his flared, leaky tip is a tight squeeze in your little cunt, the wet *pop* sound the head of his dick makes each time Miguel pulls his hips back to the point where his slit is brushing against the rim of your entrance making you mewl. The sight of you unravelling on just his tip goes straight to Miguel’s head (you can decide which one).

sooo this was actually meant to be for 500 followers but I delayed it so much that it became my 1K special... 👀

oops!

[pedgito]

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✎ 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. all he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.

cw: 18+ (for safety), mechanic!eddie, reader and eddie are the same age (29/30ish), girl dad!eddie, mentions of loss/death, mentions of miscarriage/stillborn (briefly), more than your typical sass from a small child, reader is great with kids (obviously), mostly just a bunch of meet-cutes and fortunate circumstances that help push eddie toward reader, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 11k — part two

Eddie never imagined he would in this position, not in a million fuckin’ years. While he would trade it for the world, days like these made his skin crawl, the anxiety creeped in, all the worst feelings you could feel as a person—and more specifically, a parent.

She’s the spitting image of him, curly hair and big doe eyes that she could sick on anyone to get exactly what she wanted. It was a proven fact that had worked on Eddie countless times. She’s got his habitual nose scrunch, always making a face when she’s upset or mad, arms crossed over her chest as she sits and pouts. There couldn’t have been more of a carbon copy than her and Eddie didn’t know how to handle it half the time. 

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, plopping his daughter onto the counter, “Shoes,” He taps her light up sneakers, “Check.” He scans her over once, all clothes accounted for, matching socks, a small jumper to keep her warm during class, “Hair—“ He takes a moment, examining the sloppy attempt at pigtails, “it’s gonna have to work.”

“Dad,” Her voice drags, soft and melodic as she stares up at him in annoyance, “breakfast?”

“Shit—right,” Eddie facepalms in frustration, turning to rummage through the fruit bowl on his counter, picking out a semi-ripe banana and offering it to the girl, “that’ll do.”

“Language,” She sings, using her brute strength to rip open the peel, a small grunt escaping her, “—you owe a dollar to the jar.”

It still amazes him how well-spoken she is for her age, five nearing six and still able to keep up with him in conversation and sometimes even leaving him speechless, her comments just as fiery as his own. She did a good job keeping him in check, grounded, and never taking himself too seriously.

“Ri,” He begs, “you’re cleaning me out.”

“You know the rules, dad.” She smiles, taking a ferocious bite of her banana, speaking with a full mouth, “pay up, please.”

Eddie huffs begrudgingly, swiping his wallet from his back pocket and plucking out a single collar, slipping it into the jar on the shelf near their front door, the thing was bursting at the seams almost.

“Okay so,” Eddie turns back toward her, “what did we talk about?”

“Manners—please and thank you,” She says, counting her with tiny fingers, “no mean looks to the other kids, and—“

She stops, the memory spilling her brain.

“And no F bombs from you either.” Eddie warns, poking softly at her chest. “Even if it was only once.”

“It was part of the song—“ She argues, mouth turning down at the corners in frown.

“Riley.” Eddie says more sternly, causing her to shrink slightly.

“Okay,” She answers softly, taking smaller bites of the banana until it’s nearly gone, she glances at the digital clock on the microwave and glances back at her dad, who still seems completely frazzled, “—I thought school started at eight.”

“It does.” Eddie nods, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gathering his things for work; lunch, tools, although surely he was still missing something.

“Look.” She tells him, finger pointing just past his head.

Eddie turned, eyes widening at the numbers appearing back to him.

7:50. 

It was the first day and he was already starting off on the wrong foot, but given his track record, he couldn’t really be surprised. 

Eddie quickly lifts Riley from the counter and places her down, letting her run for her backpack on the couch—a faded, black backpack that Eddie got from Wayne a few weeks ago; money was tight, but he always tried to make the best of their situation. He ironed a few of his old patches from his favorite bands he had stored away and even the one he’s gotten made of his old band as a joke, a true one of a kind. He wanted to save it for something special—or someone. Luckily, that was Riley.

“Alright,” He says, clapping his hands together loudly, “let’s go, go, go.” 

Riley’s feet pitter patter underneath him as he chases after her, urging her out of the trailer—the one he rented out just beside his uncle, as much as he’d hoped to get out of this town, he couldn’t think of a better place to be held up in.

Eddie’s never been a stickler for rules—and he makes it with a couple minutes to spare, but no one needed to know about him driving a smidge over the speed limit to get Riley to school on time. 

He feels immensely underdressed around the other crowd of parents—and noticing the one obvious factor, most of them were women. He realizes it shouldn’t matter much, but it was also painfully obvious that he was all over the place, clothes slightly dirtied from grease stains and general car grossness. It didn’t matter how much he washed them, the stains were coming out. 

Riley’s eager, unbuckling herself and opening her own door before Eddie can even reach her, suffocating his hand in a tight grip as she yanks him along, humming along to a tune that Eddie can only guess is from a morning cartoon. When it came to music she sang her heart out, an obvious sign that he was hers—she loved music.

“Come on, dad,” She complains, Eddie’s feet keeping up with her hurried steps, “we can’t be late.”

“For a five year old you’re incredibly bossy.” Eddie notes, her giggling trailing down the hall as they entered the school. 

She eyes the walls with rapt attention, all decked out with arts and crafts, eye-grabbing from every angle. Eddie had made a point to remember the name of his teacher, at least, if anything. So, when she trails just a little further than she needs to, Eddie’s pulling her back with a hand against her chest.

“Woah, hold your horses.” Eddie chuckles, her body knocking into his chest as he knelt down. “Do you want me to walk you in or are you okay?”

The soft scuff of soles on the tile floor pull Eddie’s attention up, eyes landing on you. You offer a friendly smile amongst the chaos—crying kids, worried parents, and all the restless energy a small child could carry this early in the morning. 

“Hi.” You greet cheerfully, addressing yourself formally, hand extended for him to shake. Eddie’s still squatting at Riley’s side but his hand extends too, enveloping yours in a gentle grip, a polite handshake.

You sense the nervousness of the young girl before you, squatting down to her level as well, “You must be Riley.” You guess accordingly, seeming as she was the last kid on your list to show up, her face beamed with a brightness that was entirely too infectious. You introduce yourself to her too, shaking her smaller hand in greeting. 

“Alright kid,” Eddie pats her back softly, standing slowly as his knees groan in protest. Eddie was nearing his thirties and not nearly as nimble as before, with a mix of aging and his job it seemed like his body was wearing away faster than he liked, “you ready?”

“Oh,” You interrupt, standing too, “you can come inside and see where’s she sitting if you’d like and if you have any quick questions I can answer them.”

Eddie blanks for a moment, but is quickly pulled out of it when Riley tugs at his hand in excitement, “Okay, just a couple minutes, Ri—I can’t be late for work.” Eddie follows along dutifully, narrowly missing the flurry of tiny people that run past him.

Riley arrives at the desk in a hurry, taking her seat and examining her area. “Look daddy,” She points out, “the desk has my name.”

“Yep, baby,” Eddie nods, smoothing out her tattered curls, still beating himself up over not taking the time to make them look better, “can you read it?”

Riley nods enthusiastically, “Riley Munson,” she sounds out, “Duh, I know my name.” 

Eddie chuckles at that and you can’t help but laugh. She was a character for sure, but most of the kids were, blossoming personalities and all.

You interrupt for a moment, leaning down to Riley’s level again, “And we even get to decorate these with cool stickers!”

Riley gasps in joy, staring up at Eddie with wide, glistening eyes.

“She loves stickers,” Eddie tells you, “Uh—I should probably already know this, but what time is pickup?”

“Oh, you’re fine.” You assure him, noting his frazzled state. It was common for parents, specifically first timers. “Three is when we actually let them out, but the line can get pretty long so it’s always better to show up early if you can.”

Eddie nods slowly, glancing around the room. He’s never been one to care what people think of him or his appearance, but in this setting it feels magnified. “Sorry, I feel a little underdressed.”

You quickly shake your head, watching as a young girl approaches Riley. You nod toward the door, silently asking Eddie to follow. He bids her a quick goodbye and a kiss in the crown of her head which she could care less about, already chattering to her newfound friend. 

“Don’t feel like an outcast,” You tell him, “it’s definitely not worth beating yourself up over.”

Eddie had been there his entire life, he wasn’t sure he could ever escape that. 

Oddly, it comforts Eddie for the moment. “Shit—wait shoot,” Eddie fumbles over his words, voice hushed as he realizes his mistake, “I’m Eddie by the way, I probably should’ve started with that.”

You laugh in amusement, nose scrunching up slightly. You’re far enough from earshot that their impressionable ears can’t hear, but it’s still charming that he tries to save himself. 

“Well Eddie,” You say with a lilt to your voice, “if we run into any issues—which I’m sure we won’t—we’ll give you a call.”

Eddie nods, “Okay uh,” He points toward Riley sparingly, “she can be a little—headstrong, so if she gives you problems—“

“I can handle her,” You assure him, leaning forward with a quiet whisper, “it’s kind of my job.”

Eddie smiles at that, a nervous laugh rumbling through his chest. He needs to excuse himself before he embarrasses himself further. 

“Okay, three. I’ll be here.” He tells you, loose curls bouncing over his shoulders as he moves. 

“And I’ll see you then.” You nod, watching as he hurriedly leaves then, bolting out faster that you can process. Considering how daunting days like this could be for parents, he was still handling it surprisingly well. 

The day is just as hectic as you’d expect. A few meltdowns later and a messy lunch with over a hundred rambunctious kids and you’re all out of energy for the day but keep it up until the very last minute of the school day, letting each child pick a sticker to put on their own name tag on their desk—it’s an easy way to give the kids an outlet to express themselves and show of their personality, plus, the kids loved the stickers.

Pickup is gradual, the children leaving in troves until there’s only a few left, lingering around the hall as they wait for their rides. You find Riley perched on a bench outside of your classroom, fiddling with the laces on her shoes, frayed from wear and tear as she attempts to re-tie them. She huffs dramatically when she can’t figure it out, shoulder slumping as she frowns

You approach with a weary caution, taking a seat next to her on the bench. She doesn’t immediately look up at you, kicking the toes of her shoes together. “Stupid,” She grumbled, “stupid shoes.”

“Do you need help?” You ask sweetly.

“I don’t know how,” She expresses dramatically, “I try and the loop doesn’t work. My daddy ties my shoes for me.”

“Well, Riley—would you like me to teach you?” You ask.

She nods enthusiastically, clumsily turning to place her feet in your lap, staring up at you expectantly. You laugh softly, making a show of taking the two strings in your hand, guiding her through the motions as she watches, cataloging every step. She helps you sing, bouncing with energy. 

“Okay, your turn.” You tell her, watching as she fiddles with laces, murmuring a ‘bunny ears, bunny ears’ under her breath as she focuses, tongue slipping out past her lips in concentration. It takes her a moment, struggling to get the lace under the loop, but eventually she gets it. You erupt in a soft cheer, shaking your fists up in celebration. Riley beams a toothy grin that lingers, her eyes squinting with how big she’s smiling. 

You take a peek at your watch, reading it to yourself. 3:15. It wasn’t unusual for late parents, as a few kids were also lingering about, but while they were antsy and anxious to leave, Riley sat quietly, attention turned up toward a spot on the ceiling as she waited. 

You wait a bit longer in silence, listening to Riley sing the lyrics to a faintly familiar rock song, much to mature for her ears—but that can only be the product of her father, which you couldn’t really fault him for. Kids were just as good at paying attention as they were being passive, it was all subjective and only when they wanted to. 

By 3:30 you’re a little more concerned, Riley being the last kid left and not a car or parent in sight.

She sighs exasperated, playing with the loose string on her jumper, “Daddy’s late isn’t he?”

“A little,” You nod, “Is this normal? Does it happen a lot?”

You weren’t trying to point fingers or scrutinize anyone, just simply prodding for more information. 

“My dad works on cars—s’why he looks dirty all the time.” She explains, her words mixing together. “Sometimes the men are mean and keep him at work late.”

“Oh dear,” You sigh slightly, “well, I guess we’ll have to do something to keep us busy.”

You didn’t leave until late into the evening anyways, closer to five—and it wasn’t the first time you’ve had to keep a kid past the normal pickup time, though it had been a while.

“Do you like to color?” You ask curiously.

Riley perks up suddenly, nodding. 

“Well, you’re in luck, Riley.” You tell her, hand held out for her to grab, leading her into the classroom and setting her at a separate table away from the desks. She waits patiently, feeling squeaking against the linoleum as she watches you move around, grabbing a box of crayons and a few spare drawing pages for her to color in. “Can you work on this for me?”

Riley nods again, furiously sifting through the colors and getting to work, scribbling a dark red crayon onto the paper.

You slip away for a moment, crossing the hall to the office and attempting to find someone—anyone that you can check in with, wondering where Eddie was. The secretary pops her head out of the lounge room suddenly, eyeing you curiously.

“Hey, the little one, Riley Munson—has anyone come to ask for her yet?” You ask, “I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost in the bunch?”

“That’s Eddie Munson’s kid, right?” The older lady asks, a gruffness to her voice from years of smoking. “Huh.”

Huh. You make an annoyed face as she turns her back, walking toward her desk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“That kid has never had his life together,” She tells you, having known Eddie when he attended Hawkins, “I used to write tardy slips for him everyday—boy would come in smelling of weed almost every day, he’s always been trouble.”

“Weren’t we all trouble in high school?” You ask daringly.

“Not like him,” She tells you, “repeated his senior year three times and didn’t graduate until he was twenty.”

You roll your eyes subtly, the judgment oozing from her in waves. “Can you just call her emergency number and see if we can get someone to pick her up?”

The older woman responds with a noise, picking up the phone between her brittle fingers, startled rightly when someone bursts through the front entrance, keys jingling in their hand.

“God, I’m so sorry—“ Eddie looks even more stressed out than earlier, his face slightly dirty and a greased up handkerchief shoved in his backpacker, “where is she?”

The old lady watched with a pointed look as you nod toward your classroom, avoiding her gaze as you turn your back. 

“I’ve got her busy in my room,” You tell him, leading him toward your door silently, “she’s been very good considering.”

“I promise it’s not always like this,” Eddie says defensively, “today has just—it’s been a day.”

You stop him just outside the entrance, hand placed gently against his chest to still him.

“It’s okay,” You tell him honestly, “but this can’t be a regular thing. You either need to have someone available to pick her up after school on time or work something out with administration. I don’t mind staying after—but I can get in trouble if she stays too late.”

“Look, I mean it—this is the only time.” He stressed, eyes pleading in hopes that you won’t judge him too harshly.

You couldn’t. You would never. You weren’t in a place to judge anyone. 

You nod in understanding, extending your trust. “She’s coloring—go ahead.” You tell him, letting him walk in before you.

Riley can hear the footsteps before she spots you both, her chair skidding against the floor as she bolts toward the door, barreling toward Eddie. He picks her up with ease, scooping her up onto his hip, coloring pages forgotten. 

“I missed you.” He tells her, fingers squeezing gently at her side. She laughs, hugging him tight despite his dirtiness. 

“I miss’d you.” She says softly, arms squeezing around him even further. Eddie smiles, burying his face into her bundle of curls placed lopsided on top of her head.

Eddie pulls away after a moment, looking over at you. “I’m so sorry.” He apologizes again and you’re starting to sense a theme. 

“No need,” You insist, “but come Monday—“

Eddie nods, “I’ll be on time.”

And for whatever odd reason, you believed him. 

You smile at him then at Riley, features softening as she peaks at you from over Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you on Monday Riley, okay?” You speak to her.

“Yes!” She cheers, leaning over to whisper into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie leans in, laughing at whatever she was saying to him. Eddie pulls away, nodding at Riley in agreement.

“She said you can call her Ri,” Eddie explains, “which is a very prestigious honor, right?” Eddie turns to Riley, her face scrunching up in confusion.

“Prisigious?” Riley repeats in an innocent tone, “Dad, that’s not a word.”

“Oh, it is Ms. Ri,” You respond matter of factually, “prestigious,” You sound out, “it means super important and special, like you.”

Eddie watches the interaction in a happy silence, the exchange more endearing than anything he’s ever witnessed. It had always taken a while for Riley to warm up to new people, which is why he had been so nervous for her first day, but it all seemed ridiculous now after watching the two of you interact. 

“Thank you.” Eddie says suddenly, eyes connecting with yours.

It startles you for a moment, face pulling up in a confused smile.

“For?”

“Not judging, I guess.” He shrugs, “And keeping her company.”

You chuckle softly, “It’s kind of my job, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie grimaces at that, “God—am I that old? We can stick to first names, right?”

And truly, you’re only teasing. You nod in response, waving a warm goodbye to Riley as Eddie grabbed her backpack, shrugging it over his own shoulder.

“Byeeee,” She sings, hand waving over Eddie's shoulder as he triggers her along, more than eager to get her out of your hair, Eddie does mumble to Riley for a moment before she screams out again, “—my daddy said bye too!”

Riley was a character, that was for sure. But seeing her with Eddie, it all made sense.

Eddie keeps his promise, the next month of school going off without a hitch. Riley is there on time, every morning, hell or high water, and she’s just as chipper as you would expect from someone her age. Eddie doesn’t come inside often, only on the few days that Riley has a hard time rolling out of bed, so you don’t see him that often—not that you wanted to.

You totally didn’t want to. Either way, it didn’t matter. 

October is one of the few months that you can enjoy real fun with the kids—holidays always have their positives, as well as their negatives. But, the kids loved crafts and so did you. 

A week out from Halloween and you had purchased a full box of small pumpkins for your kids, one for each, and all the crafts you could imagine—paints, markers, stuff for making silly faces or glitter bombing their pumpkin. You’d made it clear about messes and the kids had followed for the most part.

But, you could only expect so much from a group of six year olds. And in hindsight, you never expected your degree to end up with you constantly hovering around a group of kids hoping they wouldn’t eat the glue sticks or shove crayons up their noses—unfortunately, that was your life. 

You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

And it’s almost peaceful until the time for cleanup comes and there’s a rushed call of your name, the tiny panicked tone sending you into fight or flight, turning on your heels to spot where the voice is coming from.

When you do, it lands on her. Little Riley, covered in paint—her face, hair, clothes, and a boy at her side caught red-handed, quickly dropping the paint when your eyes flick to him. You steady yourself with a deep breath before going back into teacher mode, instructing the rest of the class to sit on the rug at the front of the class room with their legs crossed, grabbing both of the kids gently by the hand and walking them out of the classroom, luckily coming face to face with another teacher who happened to be on break from her class while they attended their specials class, practically begging her to watch the rest of the class for the time being.

“Fifteen minutes, that’s all I need.” You tell her and she agrees.

When you’re finally alone with the two you kneel, taking the younger boy’s hands in yours, calming their insistent shaking.

“You’re not in trouble,” You tell him, Evan, the younger boy responsible, “but do you realize what you did wrong?”

He nods silently.

“I get big emotions too, trust me.” You tell him softly, “But, we can’t take them out on others. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“He made fun of my clothes!” Riley interrupts with a screech, eyes welling with tears. “He said I dress like a boy.”

“Is that true?” You ask him, receiving a shameful nod.

“It’s not fun being picked on,” You explain to him, “how would you feel if Riley said you dressed silly?”

“Sad.” He answers softly. 

“Exactly.” You smile slightly, “Can you apologize to Riley?”

He turns to her, unable to meet her tiny, heated gaze.

“I’m sorry, Riley.” 

You stare at Riley pointedly, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance. There’s a silent pleading that she seems to understand, chewing on her bottom lip as she relents.

“It’s okay.” She tells him, “I forgive you.”

You nod, satisfied. “Okay, Evan—head back to class, please.”

The boy walks slowly, head hung in shame and embarrassment at having been caught and doing what he did—this behavior was all too familiar and not new in any way.

“He’s stupid.” Riley says with a bite, face smeared with paint.

“Riley,” You warn, “we don’t call people that.”

“Did you say anything to him after he made fun of your clothes?” You ask, hoping to get to the bottom of their little squabble.

“I called him stupid.” She says—it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you mask it well, gaze flitting up toward the ceiling as Riley flicks the paint off of her hand and wipes them against her ruined overalls, the shirt underneath barely unscathed. 

“Can I let you in on a secret, Ri?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She nods slowly, giving you her hands. You did it often with the kids, finding that it calmed them the quickest. “All boys are stupid.”

Riley smiles slightly, giggling quietly. 

You sigh, taking a glance at her and then her outfit.

“Your dad doesn’t pack extra clothes for you, does he?”

Riley shakes her head, pigtails swinging wildly.

You huff, “Okay—let’s brainstorm.”

“Brain…storm?” Riley asks curiously.

You nod, “Yeah, like…come up with ideas. It’s just a silly word for it.”

Riley ponders for a moment, lips pursing together in thought. 

She sighs after a moment, “My brain is empty, no storms.”

You laugh audibly, a short giggle as you stare fondly at the girl.

“Actually,” The thought hits you suddenly, “I think we have some spare clothes in the office, we could take our chances and see if there’s anything in your size. If not, I’ll have to call your dad.”

“No, no—“ She says hurriedly, “don’t call my dad, please.”

You since her concern, eyebrow raising in question.

“I broke his rule.” She frowns, “I gave Evan a mean look and I called him stupid.”

You smile tensely, trying to weigh how to explain things to her, before settling on, “I think he’ll understand, Ri. But, I’ll try my hardest so we don’t have to.” 

The best you can do is a god awful pair of pink corduroy pants in her size, which she very loudly states she dislikes.

“Ew!” She says in disgust. “Can I stay in these, please?”

“Riley,” You stress, “You have to change.”

She slumps in defeat, not putting up much of a fight. She holds her hands out begrudgingly, making small grabbing fists until you hand them over, quickly skittering off to the bathroom.

When she returns, she looks even more annoyed, but cleaner.

“My face,” She frowns, “it’s sticky.”

“Yep, kiddo.” You nod, taking her ruined overalls and stuffing them into a plastic bag before tying them off, leaving them for Eddie to pick up later. “I’ve got wipes in my classroom and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

It’s a struggle, but you do manage to get most of the paint cleaned up while the other teacher manages your class, holding their attention with a book she read out loud, letting you deal with Riley in silence. Her hair is a challenge, still sticky and hardened with paint—you manage what you can, undoing her pigtails and wiping out as much paint as possible before braiding the hair back nicely and keeping it out of her face. She feels the bumps in her hair curiously, making a face.

“Braids.” You explain. “Have you ever had them?”

“Daddy can’t do them.” She tells you. “I like piggies. But I also like the braids.”

“Well, maybe you can bribe him into learning if you like them a lot.” You tell her, helping her down from the desk she was perched on. “But, I can always do it for you if you really want them on a certain day.”

You urged her back toward the group of kids, watching as she took a seat toward the rear, hands twisted in her lap as she listened quietly—she seemed less comfortable, more outcast than normal, and while Riley had a big personality—it wasn’t showing now. 

When Eddie arrives later that day for pickup, it’s a flurry of emotions. Riley immediately bursts into tears when she sees him, still one of the last kids to be picked up—but he’s not too late.

He stares up at you with a myriad of questions and you hand the dirty clothes over wordlessly. He glances at Riley, nudging her face away from his shoulder. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Riley looks up at you desperately, frown pulling at her face.

“Ri, why don’t you go play over at the table,” You suggest, “the toys are in the bin underneath.”

She nods, letting go of Eddie in an instant.

When she’s finally busied herself, you pull Eddie aside, leaning against the edge of your desk. “There was a little incident today. A boy teased Riley for her clothes and she called him stupid,” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, “we were decorating pumpkins and there was some paint involved—the other kid spilled paint all over her.”

“And no one called me?” Eddie asks, frustration evident in his face.

You held your hands up defensively, “Riley was very insistent that I don’t—luckily we had some spare clothes in the office.”

“Why—why wouldn’t she want you to call me?”

“She said she broke your rules,” You explain to him, “whatever that means. Regardless, I tried to clean her up as best I could. She still has a bit of paint in her hair.”

Eddie glances over at his daughter, still frowning as she plays. He knew the sadness was temporary, but damn if he wasn’t playing into it. He notices the braids a half second later, glancing back at you briefly and then toward her again.

“Sorry if I overstepped—her hair was a bit of a mess.” You admit to him, “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

Eddie laughs slightly, “No—it’s fine. I’m at a complete loss when it comes to that stuff.” He scratches at his cheek, grime covered rings leaving a dark mark against his skin in the process. You smile to yourself, pulling a wipe from the packet and handing it over.

“It’s—you got something on your face.” You tell him, pointing to the spot.

“Here?”

“No,” You point again, Eddie moves a smidgen over but still isn’t in the right spot, “—just, here, give me it—“ Eddie hands over the wipe and waits for you to clean away the mark, leaning toward you slightly.

“She’s had a rough day,” You tell him quietly, wiping at his face until it’s gone, tossing the wipe into the trash, “and maybe paint with a bunch of six year olds wasn’t too smart, but I think you’ll really like what she made.”

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, watching as you call out to Riley.

“Hey Ri, did you want to show your dad what you made today?” 

She perks up slightly, skittering over to her desk in hurry as she fetches the small pumpkin before handing it over to Eddie.

“It’s you, daddy!” She beams, pointing out the dark marks that were supposed to be hair, comically wide eyes and a half smile on the front. He turned it, seeing the small group of bats she drew on the back. He smiles, rubbing tenderly at her chin.

“I wasn’t sure what the bats were all about but she insisted.” 

“Oh,” Eddie notes, pulling his sleeve up to show off his inked up arm—and really, it didn’t shock you much, “that’s why.”

“Crap, Ri—I almost forgot,” You tell her, rounding your desk to open the drawer housing the pages of stickers, “I need you to pick out a sticker for your desk.”

She gasps excitedly, yanking away from Eddie without hesitation and running to your side, fingers dragging along the page until she finds the one she wants, letting you pluck it from the paper and hand it over. 

Eddie knows he’ll still have to sit and talk with Riley when they get home to make sure she’s working through her emotions correctly instead of bottling them up—something he was much too guilty of as a teenager. He hates seeing her repeat the same habits he did, doing as much as he could to avoid it.

Eddie’s quick to thank you again and again, a strange habit he’s formed around you. Oddly enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him.

Grocery shopping is always an adventure with Riley. Eddie never had a list of things he needed, more or less just picking out whatever sounded good, but that also meant an unhealthy amount of snacks being piled in the cart. Eddie didn’t have it in him to tell Riley to put things back, knowing she’d pull out the big guns. Some would call him weak—he was, he could admit that. 

“Can you reach it?” Eddie asked, Riley hoisted up onto his shoulders to reach the cereal box on the top shelf. It definitely wasn’t the safest option, but it was working.

“Higher!” She instructed, grunting out as she stretched, “Ha—gotcha!”

Eddie laughs, “Are we good?”

No response, a small amount of wiggling on his shoulders. 

“Ri?”

She gasps suddenly, screaming out your name from over the aisle—Eddie rightfully panics, hoisting her off of his shoulders carefully.

“Riley, you can’t scream in public like that.” Eddie tells her, pulling the cereal box from her grip.

“But…Ms.—“ Riley defends feebly, her fingers pouting to the aisle over.

You did spot her, in fact, giving her a quick wave and a cheeky smile as you pushed your cart down the aisle, making your way through the store. When you round the corner, Eddie and her are still standing there arguing, animated enough that you stand back, not wanting to interrupt.

Eddie stares up at you after a moment, eyes already speaking an apology.

“Stop,” You tell him suddenly, a grin breaching your face, “no apologies, it’s not necessary.”

“I was going to apologize for my child’s lack of filter,” Eddie says, pulling gently at Riley’s ear, “but I guess she was just really excited to see you.”

“As I am you, miss.” You tell her softly, offering out your fist to her. She bumps it gently, giggling up at Eddie.

The silence that settles is bordering on awkward, both of you deciding to speak at the same time.

“So, you shop here—“

“You’re in the way of—“

Eddie chuckles awkwardly, “You first.”

“You’re in the way of the cereal I was going to grab.” You inform, waving toward that side of the aisle.

“Oh, shit.” He curses, quickly shoving his cart out of the way.

“Dad,” Riley sings, a telltale sign that Eddie had done something wrong, “that’s another dollar.”

“How about I buy you a chocolate bar and we call it even?” Eddie barters, staring the small child down.

She contemplates for a moment, “Deal.”

“She’s clever.” You note with a smirk, reaching around Eddie to grab the box of cereal before shoving it in your cart. 

“And a handful.” Eddie adds fondly.

“Dad,” Riley pokes at Eddie’s side, “Dad, daddyyyy.”

“What, Ri?” He asks, turning to her.

“Can we invite her over for dinner?” She asks innocently, a grin appearing on her face, hopeful optimism some would call it. 

“Riley—she’s your teacher, I can’t do that.”

“It’s not against any rules.” You shrug, mouth speaking before your brain can process. “I wouldn’t want to intrude though, that would be very nice of me.”

Eddie quickly answers, “Uh, you wouldn’t actually.”

“He’s making my favorite!” Riley interjects.

“And what’s that?” You ask with a similar enthusiasm.

“Spaghetti!” It was a mouthful for her to say, but you understand her well enough.

You shrug, glancing up at Eddie. “I don’t know, she’s selling me a pretty good dinner.”

“Would you?” Eddie asks, “Want to?”

“I don’t see why not?” You ask redundantly, “I would’ve ended up grabbing a pizza on my way home anyways—so why not some real Italian food?”

Eddie looks at you with an uneasy expression, “I don’t know about real—or Italian, but I promise it’ll be edible.”

“I’m sold.” You admit, slipping out a pen and paper from your purse, “Give me your address and the time I should be there.”

Riley is a tiny ball of excitement, yanking at the unoccupied hand Eddie left by his side as scribbled down on the notepad before handing it back to you. You note the information before slipping it back into your purse. 

“Well Ri, I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” You tell her with a smile before looking up at Eddie, “Should I bring anything?”

“No, no—it’ll be our treat, right?” He asks, looking down at his daughter.

“Yep!” She pops the word, bouncing on her heels.

Even being around her energy was enough to exhaust you, so you could only imagine how Eddie was feeling. You offer a friendly wave to both of them before disappearing down the aisle, wondering what the hell just happened. 

The moment you arrive at the trailer park, your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest—not out of fear or nervousness, but mostly out of the unknown. It was the first time you’ve interacted with parents outside of work, not that you made it a habit, but you have befriended a few. It was a natural thing that happened and nothing that ever felt forced—with Eddie, it was strangely comfortable despite how little you knew about him, or Riley, even. 

You pull to a stop outside the pale blue trailer, the front yard a mixture of new flowers and some wilted away, a few small statues of animals that you could guess were a product of Riley. You can hear her on the other side of the door before you even knock, belting out a song at the top of her lungs.

You knock loudly in hopes that Eddie can hear, thankfully he does, opening the door in record time—strangely fast when you take time to think about. You smile at the thought of him having been waiting at the door, then feeling ridiculous for even having that thought.

“You’re just in time,” Eddie says, slightly out of breath, “Riley’s putting on a show in the living room.”

You take in his appearance fully now, unashamed—he’s cleaner obviously, his hair looks more thought out and poised, small ringlet curls falling around his face and his bangs looking straighter, like he might’ve cut them. He’s got a pair of jeans on and a clean shirt, stain free—socks covering his feet, a pile of shoes stuffed by the door. 

You step inside, toeing off your shoes wordlessly and placing your bag and coat on the coat hanger behind the door. Eddie shuts the door for you, nodding in the direction of the noise coming from several feet away. 

“Is that Nirvana?” You ask curiously, turning your head back toward Eddie.

“She’s a character, I know,” Eddie feels the need to state, but that was already blatantly obvious, “it’s one of her favorite bands.”

You shrug, feeling indifferent.

“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks, noticing your stagnant expression. 

“I don’t listen to much music.” You admit, “I don’t really have the time unless it is something from Barney or one of those silly education videos we show the kids.”

Eddie looks pained to hear it, eyebrows shooting up under his bang. Riley notices you then, hopping off of the couch and running toward you, arms wrapping around your legs in a tight hug. 

“You made it,” She says, “daddy said dinner was almost done.”

“It is,” He confirms, setting the plates down on the kitchen table as he wanders around finishing things up, “you can sit, if you want.”

You opt against it, waiting until Riley busies herself with something else, joining Eddie near the kitchen stove, tapping your fingers against the kitchen counter gently.

“Smells good,” You tell him honestly, the scent invading your nose, “I can’t even remember the last time I cooked for myself.”

“She keeps me in check,” He nods behind him, “otherwise I’d be ordering carry out everyday like I was still in high school.”

You smile at that, silently agreeing—it was your current reality, but you also didn’t have the same responsibilities Eddie did.

You look around curiously, eyes falling on the jar placed on the shelf a few feet away, labeled ‘swear jar’ and by the looks of it, it was definitely time for a new one. Eddie looks up briefly to catch you staring at things, chuckling loudly behind you.

“I already know,” Eddie tells you, “It’s a terrible habit and I’ve tried to break it, we’re still working on it, clearly.”

You smile fondly, watching as Riley scattered her toys on the floor. “I try to keep it constrained around the kids, but it slips out every now and then. You just have to get creative, come up with other words—otherwise she’ll be saying fuck in public and I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing.”

Eddie gawks at your vulgar use of the words, face splitting into a subtle smile. “Too late.” He tells you. 

You couldn’t even act surprised. Eddie nods knowingly at your expression, turning off the stove.

“Could you do me a huge favor?” Eddie asks.

“Anything.” You nod.

“Let Riley know the food is done and get her to the table—she can be a little hard headed about it.”

If there was anyone to combat that, it was you. 

It only takes one try, much to Eddie’s obvious frustration as he glares Riley down—the young girl knew exactly what she was doing and he couldn’t fault her for it, she was clever. 

“Do you want a beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen.

You glance over at Riley who’s oblivious to the conversation, dragging her spoon along the empty plate. And as much as you would normally say yes, you can’t bring yourself to do it now.

“Uh no, I’ll be okay.” You tell him, waving your hand dismissively. Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing himself one.

Dinner is pleasant—and delicious. Riley takes up most of the talking points—her favorite animals, her favorite shows, and all the cool things she’s learned at school, not that you didn’t already know about them. But, she’s also terrible at stopping intrusive thoughts, much like any young kid is, and her questions catch you off guard every now and then.

“Are you married?” Coming from her, it sounds ridiculous—but she’s pointing at the ring on your hand with a curious look, her fingertip dragging over the gem.

“Riley.” Eddie reprimands, “Stop being nosey.”

Eddie was just as curious, but that didn’t matter. 

“No, sweetheart—I’m not.” You tell her honestly with a short laugh and a head shake. “It was a present I got when I finished school.”

Riley’s lips puff out, thinking. “School like I do?—but you’re old.”

Eddie hangs his head slightly, taking a big chug of his beer.

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, “I am.” You nod in agreement, “But no, it’s a little different. It’s school for grownups—it’s how I became a teacher.”

“Oh.” Is all she says, satisfied with your answer. 

There’s a beat of silence before she turns to her father.

“Can I have a ring when I finish school?” She asks innocently.

“Sure.” Eddie agrees, downing the last bite on his plate.

Late dinners had become a habit lately with Eddie’s job not being as convenient as it used to—long hours, angry customers, it was a monotonous cycle but that money was good. Eddie really couldn’t complain, he’d just wished there was more time for Riley.

“Hey, squirt—go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Eddie tells her. She slumps a little, frowning over at you.

Eddie gives her a look—you’ve seen it several times before from many parents. Riley sighs in defeat and slips from her chair, stomping away quietly. You glance down at the dishes, then the sink before looking at Eddie. He’s got that distracted stare on his face as he turns, finishing off his beer as he watches Riley disappear into the bathroom.

“Why don’t you help her?” You suggest, “I can clean this up and you can get her into bed?”

Eddie looks uncertain, “No—I can—“

“It’s the least I can do,” You insist, “seriously—it’s not a problem.”

Eddie knows there’s no reason to argue, placing the empty bottle down on the table and meeting up with Riley down the hall, a squeal echoing through the trailer as he bursts through the doorway. 

Eddie’s gotten Riley into a routine pretty easily, so it doesn’t take much for her to fall asleep besides a quick bedtime story while she snuggles up to Eddie before she’s out like a light and he’s sneaking out of her room, pulling the door closed slowly until it finally clicks shut. 

You’d already managed to get most of the dishes washed by then—plates, silverware, cups, save for the giant pot that Eddie had cooked in. 

“I can handle the rest if you need to leave.” Eddie says quietly, voice still low as he walks into the kitchen, flipping off the other lights as he goes. “Also—I’m sorry if you felt obligated to do this. Riley really likes you and sometimes she grows these…attachments.”

You take the clean towel he hands you, drying your hands as you turn to him, hip pressed against the counter as you lean there. “She’s not the first, trust me. I see those kids almost everyday and for the younger ones it’s a little…tricky, I guess.”

“Tricky?” Eddie asks curiously, sensing your apprehension around the word. He tossed the pot into the sink and scrubbed quietly, listening to you talk.

“Some of the kids don’t have the best home life, I try to keep things positive and cheerful—as much as I can, at least. Kids love being surrounded by love and I try to emulate that. The ones with divorced parents or just one even—you can tell they just need someone to understand them.”

Eddie tries not to think about it often—his past, his present, how Riley has to survive this world without her mom. He knows she’ll be safe and protected for the rest of her life, Eddie would make sure of it. But, for a kid to grow up without a mother—he knows the pain personally and it bothers Riley, even at this age and no matter how good she is at masking it.

Eddie huffs out a faint laugh, drying out the dish before placing it on the dish rack next to the sink, pressing his hands against the edge of the counter. 

“I don’t ever mean to press or pry,” You assure Eddie, “but if Riley ever needs anything, tell me. I extend that to all of the parents but—she’s—“

“Different.” Eddie answers for you, a smile pulling at his face. 

“She’s incredibly smart, you know.” You inform him, backing up slowly as he follows, reaching for your things to leave. “She picks up on words like nothing, she can do math in her head really well—you’ve got a tiny little genius on your hands.”

“Yeah—I’ve been helping her with her homework, she keeps telling me we need to brainstorm,” Eddie tells you, throwing his finger up to do air quotes, “when we get stuck on a problem.”

Your nose scrunches up in amusement as you find your coat over your arms, “That was definitely my fault.” You admit.

Eddie follows you out like a gentleman despite the frigid wind, hands shoved deep into his back pockets. He opens your door, the metal groaning in protest—it was an old car, reliable, trustworthy, and as your key turns in the ignition, nothing happens.

Scratch reliable—it was a piece of shit, through and through. 

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mumbling a low, “Fuck me.”

Eddie takes a step forward, leaning between your open door to poke his head inside, “I can take a look if you want.”

You rub your hands over your face in frustration, looking up at him sheepishly. “I really don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Come on,” Eddie smiles, “I work on cars for a living, I think I’ll survive.”

You wave your hand toward the hood of your car in response. Eddie taps the hood of your car absentmindedly, rounding the front as you pull on the pedal near the floor to pop the hood open. He leans down, out of view, and you can’t help but follow after him, leaning into his space slightly as he examines your engine. 

You wouldn’t even know where to start or what cord goes to what point or however it all worked—fortunately for Eddie, it only takes him a few minutes to figure it out.

Eddie makes a face of concentration as he reaches further inside, pulling at a small part until he can hold it in his hand, inspecting it further. 

“Shit, yeah—“ Eddie says, confirming his suspicions, “you need new spark plugs.”

Your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion. 

“I can clean them up a bit and we can hope it starts—but you’ll need to buy new ones soon, otherwise this is gonna keep happening.” Eddie tells you, using the end of his shirt to wipe away the built up residue, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Eddie, what the—“ You quickly yank the spark plug from his hand, “that shirt is clean, what are you doing?”

Eddie’s a little startled, given your immediate reaction. He stumbles out an awkward laugh and gently pries the spark plug from your grip. “They’re just clothes.”

And you do feel bad, but it’s become your second nature to stop messes, keep kids clean, and slip into the normal habit of being a teacher and in turn, a bit motherly.

Eddie’s faze doesn’t linger from yours, watching as you deflated slightly. “Sorry—I can’t help it.”

“I get it,” Eddie grins slightly, “but don’t worry, it’s an old shirt anyways.”

Your cheeks run hot, triggered by embarrassment and something you were too afraid to admit.

And if Eddie sees it, he doesn’t say anything. 

He fiddles with the car a moment longer before finally closing the hood, “Try it now.”

It does start—with some moaning and groaning, but it works and that’s satisfying enough for you.

“Thank you.” You tell him, looking up at him from where’s squeezed between the car and the door again, dark grease stains staring you in the face—along with a lot more, but you quickly turn away. 

“No problem,” He shrugs, “—hey, why don’t you bring it to the shop when you have time?”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

It’s a recurring theme with you two, constantly afraid of offending the other or doing something out of line.

“Yeah,” He nods, “It’ll save the hassle of you being overpriced or selling something you don’t need. I can have it done in an hour.”

“Small problem,” You tell him begrudgingly, “I’m pretty sure I work the same hours you do—so that makes it nearly impossible.”

“Are you busy next Saturday?” He asks boldly, no easing into it.

“No.” You answer hesitantly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Stop by here and I’ll drive you up to the shop,” He tells you, “I’ve got a set of keys so it won’t be a problem.”

“Do you do this for all your customers?” You ask with a soft laugh.

“Only the special ones,” Eddie replies with a wide grin, bordering on flirtatious, “—Riley would have my head if she found out you needed help and I didn’t at least try.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You respond teasingly.

Eddie shrugs in response, the smugness written all over his face. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He says, slipping the door closed gently.

You’ve never sat through a longer Sunday waiting for a dreadful Monday to come.

Eddie has a rough start to his morning, which isn’t new, but he tries to make the best of it, even if Riley is having none of it. She sobs most of the time spent getting dressed, not even allowing Eddie to touch her hair, leaving it a tangled mess atop her head. He’s learned to choose his battles, managing to get her ready and to school with enough time to spare that can allow him to drive to work without the constant worry of being late. 

When you spot him you can’t help but smile, less forced and a lot more genuine than most of the ones you gave. 

“Hard morning.” He mouths over Riley’s shoulder, her face tucked into his neck and arms wound tightly around it.

You frown in response, patting Riley’s back as he moves closer, “It’s okay, I hate Mondays too.” You tell her comfortingly. 

“Hey, kid—you’ve gotta let go.” He tells her softly, nudging her away from his neck, “I have to get to work and you have school.”

She doesn’t move—Eddie’s face falls, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth. You hold up a finger to him, asking him to wait. He nods, slightly confused as you walk around him to his back, catching Riley’s gaze. She quickly hides her face, making a small noise.

“Tell you what,” You start, crossing your arms over your chest, “if you let go of your daddy now, I can probably have your hair braided before class starts.”

She peaks her head up slowly and you know you’ve got her attention.

“Daddy, I want down.” She tells him and Eddie scoffs lightly.

“How?” Eddie asks you with a look of disbelief, placing Riley on the floor. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been struggling with her all morning.”

“She probably senses your frustration.” You tell him honestly.

Eddie never took his own emotions into account, looking down at Riley, her hand still latched into his. 

“Besides, kids are complex but really simple,” You kneel down to Riley’s level, grabbing a single stray curl, “they all want, you just have to figure out what it is.”

“I tried touching her hair,” Eddie defends, “she wasn’t having it.”

“Because daddy makes my hair look ugly.” Riley complains softly, staring up at you with earnest eyes. You laugh to yourself, patting her hand and letting her curl her fingers around your palm. 

You look up at Eddie with a sad smile, sending his rapidly growing frustration, nodding at him slightly. “Go—it’s okay.”

He scratches at his forehead, feeling horrible for wanting nothing more than to leave immediately. He prides himself on being able to handle himself well under stress, anger—every god awful emotion imaginable, but he needed a break, even if that meant leaving without a proper goodbye. 

Besides, you did a perfect job at distracting Riley, playing with the ends of her hair as you asked, “One braid or two?”

“Two.” She smiles, bouncing on her heels. “Please?”

“You got it, babe.” You tell her.

You’ve experienced connections with kids before, some stronger than others, but nothing like with Riley. It was hard to comprehend, or fully imagine was capable, but you’re happy to be there for any kid, however they needed you. 

The week remains meltdown free after that and Saturday rolls around quicker than you expect. When you arrive at Eddie’s trailer Riley is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s with my uncle.” Eddie explains. “He’s more like her grandpa—but yeah, he’s keeping her for the night.”

“Oh, okay.” You nod.

“I needed a break.” He admits without prompting, feeling the need to get it off his chest. 

“Look, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You tell him politely, “I’m not in any place to judge you.”

“I know—I just, nevermind—“ He laughs awkwardly, holding his hand out, “Mind if I drive?”

“Please?" You beg, slapping the keys into his open palm.

The drive is quiet and Eddie can’t be bothered to fill it, relishing in the silence and letting it settle. His hand grips the worn out steering wheel, rings cracking against the leather. He remembers the feeling faintly, the pull in his stomach from anxiety, the fluttering butterfly feeling of the unknown. It only happened once, with Riley’s mom.

It was their first date, a girl Eddie had met by chance at one of his shows at the Hideout—he never expected her to turn his life upside down, but she did.

It feels cheap, thinking this way—that the possibility of you and him having the same experience as he did several years ago could even be possible. He barely knew you, yet he could see it. He saw it then and he saw it now. Eddie’s never believed in soulmates or one true love’s—he still doesn't. But, he’s always believed in taking chances, even if things seemed slim to none. He pushes the thought aside for now, offering a tight smile to your warm one, pulling into the entrance to the shop.

He leaves for a brief moment, unlocking the side door to raise the garage and leave enough room to fit your car inside.

You hate how it feels like you’re back in high school again, sneaking into somewhere you shouldn’t, even though you knew this wasn’t illegal and Eddie worked there. It made you feel giddy—that same naive exuberance spreading throughout your body. 

When you’re finally inside and Eddie can start his work, it’s a waiting game. You wander around aimlessly, finally interrupted by Eddie’s voice, “We have a lobby if you want to sit down.” He offers, using the wrench to point in that direction. 

You shake your head, gradually walking to his side.

“Are you sure it’s safe to wear your rings while you’re doing this?” You ask, pointing at his hand.

“Yes,” He says with a laugh, “I’ve done it for a little over seven years and I’ve never been hurt before.”

Eddie catches your gaze, eyebrows pulling together.

“Would it make you feel better if I took them off?” Eddie asks in a slight teasing tone, a playful way of making fun of you. 

“No, no—I believe you—“ You tell him, but Eddie’s already removing them, placing them on the tray behind him. 

“Better to be safe than sorry, right?” He asks with a smirk, flipping the wrench between his fingers.

Showoff, your brain screams. “Yep.” You answer meekly. 

He leans over the hood, shirt riding up his back in the process, revealing an even larger ink than the one on his arm, you tilt your head and can’t help but stare, wondering what was underneath.

“Can you hand me a rag?” Eddie asks, his hand shooting behind him blindly—you don’t hear him immediately so he turns, catching where your gaze had been.

He smiles cautiously, glancing down at his chest.

“Were you—“ He points toward his back, aiming for his ass.

“No—no god, I was—I saw the tattoo on your back.” You stutter out, “I was just wondering what it was.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, lifting his shirt up with no warning, toned muscle and pale skin on display, a large intricate design of tree spreading from the side of his chest and over his right pectoral around to his back, covering a large percentage of it, “it’s not that interesting—but it’s a special one.”

“Can I ask why?”

It’s an innocent question, only wanting to understand him better.

“Uh—it’s a little silly, so don’t laugh.” Eddie prefaces, shifting his shirt back down. “I got it a couple years after I met Riley’s mom—she never like restaurants or fancy dates so we always ended up grabbing fast food and sitting out at the park under a tree.”

“That’s beautiful,” You say truthfully, “it’s beautiful.”

“It was, uh—before she passed,” Eddie clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his ear awkwardly, “anyways, it comforts Ri when she asks about her, all she really has is pictures. She’s still young though, so I try to answer questions when she has them.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, but you can tell Eddie doesn’t need to hear it. Still, he accepts it. 

“It’s been a while, I’ve processed it.” Eddie tells you, “I guess it’s my dedication to her and that I’ll always be there for Riley.”

“You’re a good dad,” You tell him, a hand placed on his fidgeting ones as he twisted the spark plug in his grip, “—but I don’t think that needs to be said.”

“Yeah, but shoving my kid off on my uncle isn’t very fatherly of me.” He says, deprecating himself. “Some days are just…rough.”

Eddie turns to finish up the job with a somber look, eyebrows pulled together in concentration, managing to replace your spark plugs with brand new ones without a problem before testing to make sure your car starts with ease. It does, thankfully.

“I have those days too,” You assure him, arms crossed casually over your chest, “I know it’s not the same but I understand, to some degree.”

Eddie makes a soft ‘pfft’ sound, pulling up the front of his shirt to wipe away the sweat and grime from his face.

“A classroom full of kids all day and no way to escape,” Eddie’s voice is muffled behind the cloth, “I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You stare selfishly, eyeing the small patch of hair that disappears under his belt, the other littering did tattoos on his chest—it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t settle the immense need and want you felt in the moment. 

Again, Eddie catches you.

You’re better at recovering this time, ignoring his pointed gaze and subtly raised eyebrow.

“I’m usually about ninety percent of the way there every day.” You admit sheepishly. 

“I know you’re probably going to say no, but do you want a beer?” Eddie asks, “I’ve got a few stashed in the fridge in my office.”

“Yeah, actually.” You reply and Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort to suppress his smile, “I will.”

“Follow me.” Eddie instructs, nodding his head in the opposite direction. You follow closely behind his quick footsteps, failing to hear the, “Oh—but watch out for the tires—“

Your feet slip out from under you and you fully prepare your face to hit the concrete, but it never does. 

“Holy shit,” You gasp, “this place is like a death trap.”

Eddie chuckles loudly at that, the arms that squeezed you tight to keep you from falling finally pulling you up. 

“That’s my fault,” Eddie admits, “I forgot to put them away yesterday.”

You sigh shakily, staring up at Eddie. “Once my heart stops pounding out my chest I’ll be okay.”

“Sorry.” Eddie offers a weary smile, shifting you in front of him rather than letting you trail behind. “It’s on your left, yep—and the light switch is on—nevermind, you got it.”

You laugh under your breath, scooting forward as Eddie slipped in behind you, fetching the two bottles from the fridge and slamming them on the edge of the desk, subsequently popping the caps off. You stare on with a dazed astonishment.

“No bottle opener.” He offers humorously, handing you one of the bottles. You take it from his hand, regardless of how dirty it may be from his hands that were still horribly messy.

You take a seat on the edge of the old desk, legs crossed at your ankles as you sipped at the beer. “So, how much do I owe you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about—“

“Eddie.”

“I’m not joking.”

You roll your eyes, pulling a small wad of cash out of your front pocket—it was around a hundred bucks, since you weren’t sure how expensive those parts actually were. 

“Take it.” You say, shoving the money at his chest.

“No.” He answers adamantly, pushing your hand away.

“At least let me pay for the parts?”

Eddie says your name once, full tone and leaving no room for argument. “I meant it, you’ve done enough to help me out, let me repay the favor.”

“It’s my job, Eddie.” You retort, a tinge of annoyance in your tone. 

“And this is mine.” He tells you. “So get over it—I’m not accepting your money.”

“You’re so infuriating.” You complain with heartfelt irritation, shoving the money back into your pocket. Eddie rolls his eyes just as enthusiastically, shifting from his spot on the wall until he’s lingering in the space between, still a comfortable few feet away.

Eddie chugs the beer like nothing while you continue to nurse yours, only taking a few measly sips. 

“The ring,” Eddie asks suddenly, “you said you got it as a gift for finishing school?”

And maybe he’s just trying to start friendly conversation—but you’re not sure if you should lie again, or tell him the truth. You set the beer down, twisting the jewelry over your finger. You never talked about how it came about or the history behind it. It had always been a secret for you and you only. Unlike Eddie, you didn’t process death as easily. 

“That was a lie,” You tell him honestly, extending the moment of sincerity you had with him earlier, “can I trust you with something and swear you’ll never repeat it back to anyone—even me?”

Eddie makes an odd face, trying to decipher your choice of wording. But, he nods.

“I got pregnant during my final year of college,” You start, the words hitting harder than you expect, but you swallow the painful lump in your throat, “she was due in December of that year, but I had a stillborn around six months.”

Eddie’s expression quickly shifts, eyes flicking down toward the floor.

“It’s her birthstone—“ You say, holding out your hand weakly as Eddie reaches for it, looking at the stone embedded in the silver, “she probably would’ve been around the same age as your daughter.”

Eddie says your name tenderly, fingers still lingering on the underside of your palm, “I’m so sorry.”

You laugh softly, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyways, everything happens for a reason, right? I guess it’s just a small way to remember her.”

Eddie hates how well he can relate to it. 

“Are you done?” He asks, reaching for your beer.

“Uh, yeah.” You respond slowly, forcing yourself to take a breath. “Thanks.”

The walk to your car is even slower, quiet, whatever happier mood that lingered earlier was nowhere in sight. You blame yourself for bringing the mood down, trying to find someone to lighten it. But, Eddie’s quicker than you, and throwing you a curveball from miles away.

“Can I take you out?” Eddie asks boldly, “On a proper date, I mean.”

“Um,” You linger on the word, standing uneasy as you lean against your car door, “—Eddie, we probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Eddie asks, headstrong like his daughter unfortunately.

“Things can get…complicated.” You tell him, “I don’t want Riley getting the wrong idea.”

“Fine, not a date then.” Eddie levels.

“Then what?”

“We can hang out.”

Suddenly it’s like you’re eighteen again and you can’t help but want to go against every moral set before you. 

“Hang out,” The words feel weird on your tongue, “Eddie—you do know what that usually entails, right?”

“Hey, I’m a complete gentleman, okay?” Eddie defends, “That’s why I asked you on a date.”

Your lips pull together in a tight line, hating yourself for wanting to say yes so badly. 

Eddie pulls that salaciously sweet grin of his, hands placed on either side of the top of your car, breath quickening as he pulls a bit closer, still giving you enough room to feel comfortable. 

“Tell me no then,” Eddie challenges, “just say the word and I’ll drop it.”

Eddie can see it in your face, how badly you wanted to cave and say yes. 

“Eddie.” You warn, the name sounding too wicked on your tongue. “Please.”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for. 

“Fine,” Eddie tells you lowly, eyes connecting with yours when they try to pull away, “—but let me do this one thing and then if you want to change your mind, we can forget about this.”

“What thing?” You retort back with attitude, conflicting emotions causing you to play into his game, whatever it was.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m gonna kiss you.” He tells you openly, “After that, if you change your mind, that’s fine.”

You find yourself nodding without fully realizing and Eddie’s lips are against yours in a slow press, not hurried or rushed, a small noise pulled from your lips as he pushes further, lips smacking against yours loudly. You inhale sharply, the scent of Eddie surrounding you—it was sweat and cigarettes and everything that would normally disgust you in an instant, but with Eddie it was intoxicating. Your hands drift to his face carefully, thumbs dragging along his cheeks gently, pulling up to wrap your arms around his neck, fully giving yourself over to him, allowing yourself to cherish the moment properly. 

Eddie muffled a soft laugh against your lips, a hand cupping the side of your face out of curiosity, wanting to touch you as much as he possibly could while still trying to be respectful to you. Eddie seems to forget how dirty he is though, because when he does finally pull away, he’s laughing again. 

“Fuck, I forgot,” He says, reaching for the clean handkerchief in his back pocket, wiping the dark mark off of your face, “sorry.”

“You apologize too much.” You tell him, shoving his hand away playfully. “—I will, by the way.”

Eddie beams at the answer, “I fucking knew it.”

“Hey—no gloating,” You warn him and Eddie shrinks slightly, it was a wonder what a stern voice could do, and you’d mastered that pretty well in the past few years, “we need to be careful about this—whatever this is.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, of course.”

“Riley can’t know, my job—no one.” You tell him. “If this is just a one time thing, I don’t want it ruining anything.”

And Eddie should feel slighted, but he does understand.

“It won’t.” He assures you and you hate how easily it makes you smile.

You both knew there was no possible way this was going to be a one time thing. You’d be lying to yourself. 

“Good.” You smile triumphantly, “Now—are you driving or am I?” 

Eddie snatches the keys from your hands with an eye roll and a self-righteous smirk.

There was never a way for you to realize just how much trouble you were getting yourself into, not yet. 

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Why Good Doggies Are Also Bad Doggies

(And What That Means For MyHouse.wad)

There are two dogs in MyHouse.wad. One's a sweet, harmless puppy, and the other's a relentless, deadly hellhound. Both of these dogs reside in what's commonly known as the Brutalist house, a vast concrete structure that shifts in size from small to large as you explore it.

The smaller dog, quite naturally, provides little in the way of an obstacle, and indeed its presence is surprisingly uplifting in such a bleak, sad game. It's the big, two-headed brute, the "Bad Doggy", that aims to prevent your progres; it's swift, deals a lot of damage, and takes a lot of firepower to subdue. It rules the space it resides in with an iron jaw, and will not take no for an answer. Your only options are to avoid it, or to kill it.

But there's a catch - kill the Bad Doggy, and the Good Doggy also dies. And while this does open up a loophole to allow you to deal with the Bad Doggy with no risk - killing the Good Doggy yourself - the fact remains that an innocent creature's life has to end for your journey to become easier.

Of course, you know this, and likely opted to "spare" the Bad Doggy so that the Good Doggy could join you on the beach at the end. And yes, the sight of our canine friend napping by the waves does help to complete the sense of a "good" ending - or at least, a "peaceful" one.

But... have you ever stopped to consider what this actually means? How, rather than being a throwaway device to make you feel sad, or a lazy reference to Tom's fear of dogs, this "Good Doggy"/"Bad Doggy" actually serves to reinforce the core message of MyHouse.wad?

Consider these dogs again... or rather, consider this dog. Singular.

There is one dog in MyHouse.wad. Sometimes it is a Good Doggy, playful and diligent and affirming to our wellbeing. Other times, it is a Bad Doggy, aggressive and domineering and striking fear into our hearts. Kill one, the other dies. You cannot separate the two. Where the Good Doggy goes, the Bad Doggy must inevitably follow.

How do you stop a Bad Doggy from being a Bad Doggy? You can't, not entirely. A Bad Doggy is bad only in the context of its owner's view of it. A doggy that shreds the furniture, is overly-aggressive in its interactions with its owners, jealously guards spaces and important objects, is deemed bad because of its actions. When it exhibits behaviours that are more paletable to the humans that care for it, it becomes a Good Doggy.

As a child, Tom was scared of his family's pet dog. Viewed through the lens of a terrified young boy, a dog that might be only the most loving and attentive creature, excited to play with someone similar to it in size, may appear vicious and unrelenting, causing fear and injury with its exuberent actions and disregard for its own strength. These experiences, whatever form they might have taken, left a visceral impact on Tom, as we see in his sketchbook containing the multiple-headed hellhound.

What happened to that dog? Was it ever rehabilitated? Did its status as a Good Doggy outweigh the trauma it potentially inflicted upon Tom's psyche? Or... did something else happen to it? Were its actions deemed too harmful, too Bad, to continue living with its owners?

We can only speculate on these points, but they do serve to provide an answer to the above question on how to stop Bad Doggies - you get rid of them. Give them away, abandon them, put them to sleep. Problem solved. But that doesn't just remove the Bad Doggy from the picture - it also eliminiates the Good Doggy that can provide comfort and companionship, as well as any potential future joy that same doggy could bring to its owners.

Which brings us back to the beach, and our Good Doggy having a nice nap there. Of course, I'm sure you've realised, it's also the Bad Doggy.

But what exactly does that mean for our "perfect", "happy", "peaceful" ending? Are we going to be savaged on the beach the moment we let our guard down, having fought so hard for the happiness we were so desparate to recover? Of ocurse not. But consider what its potential presence means for the future.

The Good and Bad Doggy are inexorably linked. To have the potential for joy and companionship and love, you must also accept the possibility of pain, conflict and loss. For better or worse, the bad has to come with the good - either you have both, or you have nothing at all. That's why there's no dog at the fake beach - that ending represents attempting to escape bad things altogether, but the world that results is unsatisfying and devoid of meaning. The reason things hurt so much is precisely because of the joy that came before it. Denying pain and sorrow is no better than giving up on life.

To live a meaningful life, we sometimes have to accept people as they come, warts and all.

Happiness, as Steve opines at the end of his journal, has to be fought for. But the fight doesn't stop just because you won once. Having resolved to come to terms with the world as it is, the world where your dearest friend has died, you therefore choose to re-enact that battle every single day. Some days it's easier. Some days, it's torture. That's what being alive is all about. That's what makes the moments of peace, the moments when Good Doggies really are Good Doggies and nothing more, all worth it in the end.

Thank you for reading :)

[pathetic-sapphic]

I'm so glad I discovered your blog, your writing is so good!! I'd definitely be interested in more Attractive things ____ does headcanons for the rest of the milfs 🥺

Attractive things that the Arcane milfs do

a/n: there will be some nsfw themes in this work and you can find a separate post for Sevika here

GRAYSON

Whenever she comes home from work, she smells faintly of gunpowder, sweat as well as the sandalwood cologne she likes to put on every morning and, although it might seem weird to some people, you love it. It's just a combination of smells that is so uniquely hers and you often steal her clothes and wear them whenever she's stuck at work late into the night.

You love to watch Grayson practice shooting. She just looks so in her element, all strict and poised, with her shoulders drawn up and her legs firmly planted on the ground. Seeing her calculated and focused gaze makes you go all hot under the collar. It's not like she's oblivious to it either, Grayson is perfectly aware of the effect she has on you and she relishes in it.

The way she wears her uniform never fails to make you all hot and bothered. She just wears it so well and looks so handsome in it and you always make sure to tell her that. She actually suggests wearing it for you during bedroom activities since you seem to like it so much. Who are you to say no to that?

Hugs you from behind whenever she can. Puts her arms around your waist, kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear. Sometimes she whispers sweet and cute things, other times it's just downright filth. Her voice never fails to make you wet and she takes full advantage of that.

CASSANDRA

Takes off her gloves and puts her hand on the back of your neck, slowly caressing it with her soft and warm fingers. Smirks when she sees the goosebumps that appear on your skin whenever she does that and will tease you for it.

Cassandra smokes on occasion and, damn, does she look good doing it. She is very graceful and careful with it, softly and seductively blowing smoke while looking you in the eyes. Always demands you keep eye contact with her as it is a sign of trust and the blush that appears on your cheeks is simply adorable.

She can be very strict and bossy if you want her to be. She likes giving her partner orders, especially if they're obedient and follow through them without question. Cassandra is a woman who demands respect but she'll always repay it to you. Rewards your obedience with gifts and lots of praise.

Has to have her mark on you in some way. She is a possessive and protective woman and wants everyone to be aware of who you belong to. If you are willing, she gets you a simple gold day collar with a golden letter 'C' hanging from the chain. The collar you wear in private is consisted of a dark brown leather belt with the centerpiece being a pendant identical to the one she has dangling from her ears.

AMBESSA

Displays her strength by constantly picking you up bridal style whenever she can. Also loves to manhandle you in bed if you're into that. Has a size kink so she loves being able to bend and break you as she sees fit.

As demanding Ambessa is, she knows how to reward good behavior. Be an obedient pet to her and you'll never have to wish for anything. Showers you in riches and war spoils, loves seeing you adorned in gold jewelry and expensive silk. Also buys lingerie for you quite often and you don't really mind, seeing as Ambessa actually pays attention to your likes and dislikes so the clothing pieces are always something which suits your taste.

Sleeps naked, but only with someone she's romantically involved with. Being naked next to you while asleep is an incredibly vulnerable display of trust from someone like her and you certainly don't mind. She is overjoyed if you do the same but will respect it if you aren't comfortable with it.

Although she is a woman of force and a brute, one important demand that Ambessa has for you is to set your boundaries and always tell her if you feel uncomfortable. She is aware how her roughness and strength might seem intimidating to others but she never wants you to see her that way. Her pleasure means nothing if you aren't feeling good too. Is always very respectful of your space and comfort because she truly does love you and never wishes to see you hurt, especially by her actions.

[nickeverdeen]

Whispers of the heart | Kit Tanthalos x fem!reader

The sound of clashing swords echoed in the training grounds as Kit and Jade engaged in a spirited bout. You stood by, attentively watching the exchange, arrows tucked into your makeshift quiver. As Kit executed a well-timed strike, she noticed your gaze and flashed a triumphant grin.

"See that move, Y/N? You could learn a thing or two from me," Kit teased, her confidence radiating.

You chuckled, taking the banter in stride. "Maybe, Kit, but archery requires finesse, not brute force."

Jade joined the conversation, offering a playful jab at Kit's training style. "Y/N's got a point. Sometimes subtlety can outmatch strength."

Kit, undeterred, twirled her sword with a flourish. "I'll take my strength over subtlety any day."

The banter continued as the trio ventured into a light-hearted discussion about their respective training preferences. As Jade offered guidance on refining Kit's technique, you interjected with insights on precision and accuracy drawn from her archery experience.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm hue over the training grounds. Kit wiped the sweat from her brow, turning to you. "You know, archery might have its merits."

You raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh? Admitting that subtlety has its place in the world?"

Kit's laughter rang out. "Maybe I'll ask you to teach me someday, when I'm not busy saving my brother’s ass."

The camaraderie between the three grew stronger with each passing day. As you and Kit continued to exchange playful banter, Jade found joy in watching their friendship flourish. Beneath the moonlit sky, the training grounds transformed into a haven of shared laughter, dreams, and unwavering support.

One evening, as they rested after an intense training session, Kit broached a topic that had lingered in her thoughts. "Y/N, you never talk much about your life before Tir Asleen. What brought you here?"

Your expression softened, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the nearby torches. "It's a long story, Princess, but sure I'll share it with you."

Seated in a circle, the trio delved into the intricacies of your past. The night unfolded with stories of a distant village, a peasantry burdened by injustice, and your journey to Tir Asleen in pursuit of a life free from oppression.

As the revelations unfolded, Kit and Jade listened attentively, offering empathetic nods and words of encouragement. The bond between them deepened, transcending the boundaries of royalty and commoner.

In the quiet moments that followed, Kit looked at you with newfound understanding. Their conversations became a tapestry of shared experiences, dreams, and vulnerabilities. You and Kit found solace in each other's stories, forging a connection that defied the societal norms attempting to dictate their paths.

As the moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow over the training grounds, the princess, the archer, and the swordswoman continued their journey of camaraderie, laughter, and unwavering friendship.

———

As the months passed, Kit found herself captivated by more than just your archery skills. There was an unspoken connection between you two, a magnetic force that drew Kit in whenever you trained together. Each clash of swords seemed to spark an invisible energy, leaving Kit feeling a mix of exhilaration and confusion.

Jade, ever perceptive, couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Kit's demeanor. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began teasing Kit relentlessly, especially during moments when you were out of earshot.

"Kit, you seem a bit distracted today. Anything on your mind?" Jade quipped, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Kit shot her a glance, a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. "Nothing, Jade. Just focused on the training."

Jade chuckled knowingly. "Focused, huh? Is that what they taught you to call it?"

Kit's cheeks flushed, and she swatted Jade with the flat of her sword. "You're reading too much into it."

Jade feigned innocence. "Oh, am I? It's just amusing how you and Y/N have this... almost sexual tension when you're sparring."

Kit rolled her eyes, attempting to brush off Jade's comments. However, the seed of realization had been planted, and Kit couldn't deny the truth in Jade's words.

One day, as you and Kit engaged in a particularly intense sparring session, Jade couldn't resist making her presence known. She whistled from the sidelines, interrupting your rhythm. "Wow, if I didn't know better, I'd say there's a storm brewing here. Anyone else feel the heat?"

Kit shot Jade an exasperated look, but her heart raced in sync with the rhythm of the blades. You, oblivious to the underlying tension, raised an eyebrow at the teasing.

"What's going on, Kit? Jade seems to think we're putting on a show," you said with a bemused expression.

Kit stammered, attempting to brush it off. "Jade's just being... Jade. You know it."

Jade winked at Kit, enjoying every moment of her best friend's discomfort. "I'm just saying, there's a certain spark in the air. You two might want to address it before the entire kingdom starts placing bets."

As you and Kit continued your training, the unspoken tension lingered, creating a dynamic that neither could fully grasp. Kit, conflicted by her growing feelings, struggled to maintain composure. Jade, on the other hand, reveled in the unfolding drama, eager to see how it would play out.

In the quiet moments after training, Kit often found herself stealing glances at you, contemplating whether to confront the truth or let the unspoken connection linger in the realm of ambiguity.

———

Kit and Jade engaged in a casual discussion as they prepared the training grounds for the day. The morning sun cast a warm glow, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Jade couldn't help but bring up a topic that had been lingering in the air.

"You know, Kit, you don't have to be so subtle about it," Jade remarked with a playful grin.

Kit raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Subtle about what?"

Jade chuckled. "About your feelings for Y/N, of course. Everyone can see it, even Airk and that’s a lot to say."

Kit rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

As they continued setting things up, you approached, having overheard their conversation. You stumbled slightly on purpose, a subtle signal that you were well aware of the topic at hand. Without acknowledging it directly, you joined the conversation seamlessly.

"Morning, you two. What's the plan for today?" You asked, your tone light.

Jade exchanged a knowing glance with Kit, who tried to maintain composure. "Just the usual routine. Kit here is working on her sword skills."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Sounds like a plan. Let me know if you need any help."

As the training session commenced, you couldn't help but steal glances at Kit in action. The rhythmic clash of swords echoed through the air, and Kit's prowess left an impression. You found herself captivated, realizing that your feelings were evolving beyond friendship.

Amidst the camaraderie and shared laughter, unspoken emotions lingered beneath the surface, gradually weaving a tale of friendship and a growing connection between the princess, the archer.

———

Under the canopy of the garden, you and Kit strolled along, the quiet rustle of leaves accompanying your footsteps. Kit couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth between you two as your hands brushed, each touch sending a flutter through her.

As you walked, your blush deepened, and Kit couldn't help but be intrigued by the unusual sight. Finally, under the shade of a dark tree, you settled beneath the branches, gazing up at the stars scattered across the night sky.

The air held a sense of anticipation as Kit mustered the courage to open up. "Y/N," she began, her voice soft in the quietude of the night, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

You turned to her, her eyes reflecting the starlight. "What is it, Kit?"

Taking a deep breath, Kit confessed, "I… Y/N all I care about is you. And if you wanna come prehaps even run away to live somewhere freely, I would tag along, if that’s okay. ‘Cause I don’t wanna have any adventures unless they’re with you. I should’ve told you sooner, you know? And for that I am so sorry. I love you Y/N."

The confession hung in the air, and Kit anxiously awaited your response. The garden, once filled with the sounds of the night, now held a stillness that seemed to echo the beating of your hearts.

The soft glow of moonlight bathed the garden, casting a magical ambiance over you and Kit. As Kit hesitated, wondering if she had made a mistake, your lips met hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss. The world around you two seemed to fade as you became lost in the warmth of each other's embrace.

You, breaking the kiss with a smile, whispered, "I love you too, Kit."

The admission hung in the air, a delicate revelation that opened a new chapter in your relationship. You continued to sit beneath the tree, your fingers entwined with Kit's as you exchanged stories, dreams, and whispered confessions.

As the night deepened, your laughter echoed through the garden, blending with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the night. Kit, captivated by the genuine warmth in your eyes, couldn't help but marvel at the depth of your connection.

You moved to a quiet corner under a blossoming tree, where Kit often went when she needed some silence. The fragrance of flowers mingled with the crisp night air as you settled, side by side, on a stone bench. The stars above you two twinkled as if conspiring to keep your secret.

In a small awe by the magic of the night, Kit leaned in to steal a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of the moment. You responded with a tender passion, your fingers gently tracing patterns on Kit's arm. It was a dance of hearts, an unspoken language that surpassed words.

As the night wore on, you eventually found yourselves lying on the cool grass, cuddled together like pieces of a puzzle fitting seamlessly. You, usually the more reserved of the two, nuzzled into Kit's embrace, her heartbeat echoing the rhythm of the garden.

Amid whispered promises and playful banter, the hours slipped away, marking a turning point in their lives. Kit, stroking your hair gently, couldn't shake the feeling that your love story had just begun.

The night, filled with starlight and shared secrets, embraced you until you drifted into a peaceful slumber in the garden. The dawn would bring challenges, but for now, you and Kit found refuge in the warmth of your love, intertwined beneath the celestial canvas of the night sky.

———

During the training, Jade couldn't help but notice the unspoken tension between you and Kit. During a break, she decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Okay, spill it, you two," Jade said with a sly grin. "There's something happening here, and I'm not buying the 'just training' excuse."

Kit exchanged a quick glance with you, and you shared a silent agreement to open up to Jade. Taking a deep breath, Kit began, "Well, you see, it's not just training. Y/N and I... we got together"

You, though a bit shy, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's true. We've been getting closer, and our feelings have evolved beyond friendship."

Jade's eyes widened with excitement. "Finally! I've been waiting for this moment. Do you know how long I've had to endure the tension between you two? Spill the details."

Kit chuckled nervously. "It's still new, Jade. We're taking things one step at a time. But there was a moment in the gardens, and, well, things got a bit more serious."

You blushed but continued, "And we decided to see where this takes us. We're not hiding it, but we're also not making a grand announcement. It's complicated, especially considering the kingdom's stance on such matters."

Jade, thrilled by your confessions, grinned widely. "This is perfect! I've been shipping you two for ages. Just promise me I get to be the bridesmaid when you finally decide to tie the knot."

You and Kit laughed, grateful for Jade's support and understanding. The trio continued their training, now with an added layer of shared secrets, inside jokes, and the unspoken promise of a future filled with both challenges and the undeniable bond that tied them together.

————————————————————

Okay this is horrible and is extremely short, but I hope you guys like it! Feel free to give me any suggestions on how I can improve other imagines in the future.

Love you, stay safe and healthy 🫶💚

[demonfamilytherapist]

MC Teaches the Brothers to Pole Dance

Inspired by me taking pole lessons. No real warnings - some of them are a bit suggestive, but that’s it.

Mammon

Most likely to injure himself. Not out of lack of strength - he’s just way too eager to impress you, so he tries more showy moves without getting the technique down first.

He also tends to throw himself into the spins more, which works fine when the pole is static (fixed), but when the pole is on spin he ends up with way too much speed.

Can get frustrated easily, but is also pretty quick at picking it up.

Tends to prefer moves that look impressive, regardless of their actual difficulty.

To show off, he sometimes shifts into his demon form mid-performance to stretch his wings and show off more interesting shapes.

Levi

Most nervous to start out with.

Needs a lot of encouragement to even give it a go. Won’t practice in front of his brothers - luckily, private lessons with you are a pretty good selling point.

He actually practices mostly in his demon form because his tail makes him feel more stable.

It actually does add a pretty good grip point to the pole. His scales are naturally inclined to hold on.

The more revealing clothing that’s kind of necessary for pole is another thing that makes him uncomfortable at first, but again, seeing you in just as little or less is another good selling point.

Once he gets past his initial nerves, his tail actually gives him a lot of flexibility on what he can do.

He tends to do variations on moves that allow him to rely more on his tail, since it’s his strongest limb.

Beel

Beel’s a natural and dedicated athlete, so he takes to pole very well.

He does need a few reminders on his technique - he can brute force his way through most things with sheer strength, and is often more focused on completing the move rather than performing it.

He sees it as a great way to bond with you. Once he figures out what muscles are most important, he’s really eager to discuss other ways to strengthen them so you can both improve.

He’s a really good doubles partner, since he can take the extra weight of you half hanging off him.

Prefers arm-based moves - while he can grip with his legs, he never feels as comfortable.

His wings don’t help too much with anything, but they can look very nice in the right lighting for a performance.

Asmo

Asmo is way ahead of you.

Well, sort of.

He has a good idea of the basics, but he’s generally only used it for fashion photoshoots and… private shows… neither of which really focused on a variety of moves.

That being said, he’s really enthusiastic to learn more with you!

He buys a lot of cute, very expensive pole outfits. He’s really eager to shop with you, too. Would love to match.

Asmo is a very fast learner. He’s stronger than he looks, so he’s able to physically do most of the moves right away. Mostly he just needs to refine his technique, and Asmo is a natural performer.

Anything that shows off his best angles is a good move in his book. He likes to have one arm free to blow kisses.

His wings are a wonderful accessory, and they’re also small enough not to get in his way.

Satan

Satan doesn’t really understand the point… But he’ll go along with it. It’s a good opportunity to learn more about you, and human world art forms.

It takes him a while to get the hang of it. His analytical mind is a blessing and a curse, helping him understanding the techniques and moves but often leading him to overthink in the moment.

Most likely to study up outside of your interactions - he’s the least thirsty guy following a bunch of pole dancers.

He tends to prefer slower routines that allow him to plan ahead and show off both technical skill and artistry. He’s also a surprisingly decent choreographer, probably only behind Asmo (with Levi being the other pretty good one).

He is banned from demon form on the pole. His tail is too hard and sharp, and could end up scratching it.

Belphie

It’s too much effort. And if it’s something Asmo’s that into, it can’t be worth much…

But if it’s that important to you, sure, he’ll give it a go.

Belphie is almost annoyingly good at pole once he starts taking it semi-seriously. He’s a fast learner, and keeps a cool head even when in weird and uncomfortable positions.

The biggest risk is when he falls asleep while on the pole and just… drops.

For this reason it’s best to avoid moves that are too stable or horizontal. He ends up being really dynamic just because otherwise he risks dozing off.

While putting this much effort into anything isn’t his usual style, he’s glad he gets to show off for you.

His tail isn’t grippy enough to be all that helpful, but it can be useful as a little extra support for some of the weirder positions.

Lucifer

Lucifer will not go to a group class with his brothers.

He will scoff and roll his eyes at the suggestion of a private practice.

But every time you’re with his brothers, he’s taking a close look at the moves.

In the evening, he returns to his room and summons a pole from the human world.

He practices every evening, sometimes giving up sleep. He keeps watching you practice, picking up more ideas and refining his skills.

Then, one day, while you’re trying to teach one of his brothers a certain move, he’ll walk up.

“It’s simple. Like this.”

He will do it perfectly. First try. And somehow in gloves and a full suit.

He is going to be smug about it for weeks.

[jackiepackiee]

headcanons about 15!chuuya with a reader who is an assassin from a rival organization, like just pure fluff and romance🙏🙏

𝟣𝟧! 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓁! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈- 𝓃𝑜𝓅𝑒

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Chuuya Nakahara was never once before the type to have a crush. Independent, strong willed, driven

So it’s quite the surprise when an assassin from the enemy organization caught his eye

Maybe it was how you were so sure of yourself? Maybe your skill and loyalty to your morals?

But maybe, it was the time he saw you after a mission. Comforting a small girl that was startled by the sound of your gun.

Petting her hair, covering her ears. You had just killed a guilty man, one who would’ve disregarded the small girl.

You may have been the enemy, but you were your own person.

Following your own heart, only taking orders of killing bad people. Murderers of the innocent, terrorists, assaulters

You were like him, trying your best with the worst of cards dealt to be good

He stayed in the shadows that first “meeting”

The first real time you met was during a mission

Both of you assigned to kill the same person

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend” is probably the entire reason you didn’t attack each other

You both sorta messed up each others plan, unable to get the target because the clash in your plans

You worked on strategy, smarts. He worked with pure brute strength. If you worked together, you’d make an unstoppable team.

And that you did. Taking down the target the very next night

In that one day of planning, you’d become friends

So as time went by, you’d have to make plans to meet in secret

Now for when you’re dating

Secret alleyways, rented out restaurants so no one would see the two of you

Discreet hand holding in public, stolen kisses

To make up for lost time when work got too busy, he’d sneak into your room

Nights spent watching movies with tight cuddling

Strong arms never letting go

Gentle kisses, never to hurt each other

Praises that had to be hidden in public, soft words

When this happens, you never sleep

You don’t wanna waste a minute of time together

Sometimes you’ll prank Dazai together

With how smart he his, he definitely figured out about the two of you

Even if he’s a bit annoying, he’ll help you keep the secret from the bosses

Overall, he’ll protect you from anyone who gets in the way

He’s so loving, and it’s all for you

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

Overlord Power

Sometimes I like to ponder about the Hazbin overlords. How the rise to power and such. This has been bouncing in my head for almost 2 months now.

Rosie was said to be pretty weak in terms of power compare to the other overlords. I think her main strength is she may have the most numbers of loyal souls that follow her. I'm not talking about souls that she owns (tho I think she is one of, if not, the one who owns the most). But souls (cannibal town etc) still follow her leadership despite that they own their own souls. Rosie just has that trusting motherly that breaks down a person defense and just feels safe with, looking pass and getting over the fear of her possibly eating you. So Rosie has the greatest army. One that isn't afraid to tear out your heart and literally eat it. Which is intimidating. As much as I love Rosie and she a formidable opponent but one that can meet their match. She only does not because no one has reason too and don't want to be eaten alive by her loyal supporters.

Not much is known about Zeezi, but I assume her great size came with great physical strength. I think she maybe be the strongest and toughest physically out of all the overlords. She basically a tank. Takes an extraordinary effort to have something pierce her hide. Not to mention she she probably has razor sharp claws and teeth with a powerful jaw and a powerful tail to swipe with.

Alastor is overwhelming strong magic, evasiveness and ruthless reputation. Alastor doesn't fight physically and rely on magic and the ability to evade. With contorting his body to unimaginable and impossible angles while remaining balance and able to slip away and disappear into shadows he near impossible to land a hit on. However if he does fight physically (beyond swinging his microphone) I think he rely on his powerful deer legs more then upper body strength for punches. His kicks are powerful along with stronger jumping ability compared to other sinners. His hands are more for raking his claws at the opponent flesh then have then clench in a fist. I'm guessing he has the least amount of soul unless he can acquire the souls of the overlords he slain but I don't think that's the case. While the Vees like to see numbers, their contracts are more quantity, while Alastors is quality.

I think Alastor rise in power is more brute power while the others is mostly building an empire/territory before climbing steadily higher on status. He doesn't seem to offer a service for souls to be make deals with or be manipulated by (Tho perhaps his broadcast/airwaves can do something but something he doesn't seem to utilized) Souls makes deals with him to hide from others behind his great power if one is on his good graces.

Carmilla is all defensive. At least, her climb to power was. She more than a formidable fighter but she rarely needs to fight and when she does it to defend. She rose to power by taking risk during exterminations and collecting the ultimate weaponry, angelitic steel. She collected them before the angels were called back, so she was the first to fetch them and monopolize the material. Armed with impressive amount of weapons that can permanently kill anyone, its a risk no one dare to take to challenge her. One miscalculation, you are unable to recover from. As the number of souls she owned grew so did her weaponry count. So, I think Carmilla main strength is her intimidating wall of angellist steel that can cause permanent death.

Zestial is a mystery but as he a spider it may be related. I'm mainly guessing his main power beside patience, is poison. Going by he a spider, which can be venomous, but his color scheme screams poison to me. Thanks Disney and other medias that ingrained that color green to associate poison with. He also appears to be very patient. So that another point leaning towards a poison power. He can just wait out for an opportunity to strike and wait for it to take hold.

Tho, I wouldn't be surprised he had some type of illusionary magic to trick people senses with. I don't think he does...just won't be surprised. With his shakespearean speech and I can see him being theatrical, I can see him being live performance theme. (stage illusions-that's where the illusion theme comes in. ) We already have other entertainment overlords. Radio, Television, social media...why not live performance of staged plays? The medium fits for the oldest overlord alive.

I think he would have a great amount of souls with his longevity in Hell helps increase the collection. I don't think he very active with dealings anymore. He still active in politics but beside that, I sort of view him as "retired". Similar in a way of a obscenely rich guy living off his wealth, Zestiel is living off from previous deals and souls and remains more than comfortable. Tho he still dabble here and there but overall just cruising and partaking in politics align with his own interest. Despite being less active compare to the other overlords he still very powerful and most of his "tricks" are forgotten about since he hasn't had the need to use them, granting him his use of his power almost as an element of surprise. For Example, we know how Vox and Alastor powers are like since they use it often, while Zestial is more mysterious.

Velvette I assume is persuasion. Her main role in the Vees is to influence people to the Vees agenda, while along her own personal interest in fashion. I can't guess what her demonic powers would entailed but I imagine it some type of influence. As that's her main role in the Vees, as well as the other Vees have their own way to influence people. Vox hypnotism and Vals pheromones.

Vox is manipulating and monopoly. His electricity ability is strong couple with he can evade with it. But it not what caused him to grow in power, it kept him from bring brought down. He raised by his businessman personality. The ability to charm and sell things like a sleazy car salesman paired with creating product that majority of the population uses (and causing an almost dependency on it and control news outlets) and monopolize it. Using his products paired with his hyponism he has the greatest reach over the pride ring population, which includes souls he doesn't own.

The other part is with the increase reach he had in the pride ring, it increased his ability to surveillance and information gather. Information a very strong asset. Not only can it be used to strategize or decipher patterns on his targets as he surveillance them. Guarded information can be very valuable and traded in deals like we seen with Alastor.

Val is working off people desperation. While all the overlords work off this I think Val pretty much preys on it much more than the other overlords. I think with the other overlords *most of the time*(however, they will play a long con ((Alastor) or if an opportunity falls on their lap, they will go for it) desperate people approach them for deals that they hope is not a bite more than they can chew but Val, seeks them out. Has them sign contracts while under the influence (Perhaps by Vals doing) and desperate for any means to solve their problems and gets them hooked on drugs and pheromones so they stay desperate for him to control.

Unname overlord: I really like his design but I assume he a strong magic user. Not as powerful as Alastor (But I think Alastor "cheated" by having a deal to grant him to be overwhelming in that sense) I lowkey see this overlord as the counterpart of Zeezi. So as she insanely strong physically, the unname guy is strong in magic abilities. He probably has will of wisp themed going by his skeletal and blue flame body.

Husker is easily by gambling. I can see how he can raise to power quickly with strong perception to read people and figure out their tells, and his ability of sleight of hand if he needs to cheat paired with that he mostly likely know how to count cards he was very hard to beat. He came to Hell with nothing but quickly betting his way to survive, turned into more into soul dealing and becoming an overlord. But as quickly as he gained it, he lost it.

I have some passing headcanons about Husk but I think Husk losing streak was something personal he was going through. I don't think anyone really managed to beat Husk if he was on his A game. I think Alastor is good with cards but he didn't beat Husk in cards to win souls. Particularly if Husk own soul was on the line. I think Husk was on friendly terms with Alastor and Husk made the deal with his soul to Alastor.

I think Husk downfall was he lost became heartbroken, or something trigger the memory of it that sent his in a self destructive, overly drunk depressive spiral. Going by the pilot "He lost the ability to love a long time ago" I just don't see how he can lose and lose continually, hand after hand, at his own game and house otherwise. The lost of the person he loved caused him to lose everything else in poor coping skills of self destruction.

I would like to hear other people's thoughts and opinions. Most of this is just me guessing and got the vibe of.

[sl-ut]

sweet cliches

NSFW

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!preppy!reader

description: just some spicy hcs about abby’s relationship with preppy!reader 

warnings: smut, cursing, probably a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes (i was really high when i wrote this), swearing, mentions of drinking and drug use 

date posted: 29/03/23

series masterlist

abby’s a service top, that goes without saying

*cough*MUNCH*cough*

early on in the relationship, things are pretty vanilla

she goes down on y/n, y/n goes down on her, done

as time passes, however, abby starts to realise how addicting y/n’s pussy is

she can literally spend HOURS going down on her girl

uses her brute strength to pull her back in as she tries to escape her touch, throwing y/n around into different positions before diving back in

she loves to eat it from behind or have her sit on her face, and she really loves to sixty-nine

she also likes to be standing while she facefucks y/n

there was absolutely nothing more that she loved than the sight of her strap sinking into y/n’s sopping cunt

the girl is strap happy and can dick someone down better than any man

she likes to do this from behind but her favourite is when she leans back and watches as y/n bounces eagerly on it

she likes to let y/n take charge while also reminding her who’s actually in control by lightly wrapping a hand around her throat 

the original strap is light blue, though once things get more serious, she decides to order a new one in y/n favourite colour; it’s a translucent baby pink with flecks of glitter within the silicone

it just didn’t feel right to her to continue using the old one on her special girl when she had been using it on others before they started dating–the new one was for y/n and y/n only

scissoring is touch and go with these two

most wlw would agree that when it’s done right, it’s really good, but it can feel very awkward and strange for a lot of the time

for y/n, she’s not someone to get off via scissoring. she likes how it feels, and genuinely loves the idea of the raw, primal aspect of not using fingers, tongues, or toys to fuck

instead, while it definitely feels good, she usually lays there and lets abby use her body to get off

and get off, abby does. abby personally really enjoys it, though she knows that it’s not y/n’s favourite so she doesn’t bring it up often, only when she really needs to get off

abby is a boobie lover

don’t get me wrong, she loves all of y/n’s body, but her mouth literally waters when she gets to paw and suck at her tits

likes holding them in a non-sexual way as well, just cupping them silently as she nods off to sleep

fucking after big games

y/n in her cheer uniform and abby in a pair of sweats that she changed into after the game

if they won, expect passionate and intimate sex, if they lost, expect rough and fast

when she’s not bouncing on the strap, y/n’s riding abby’s thick, muscular thighs

sometimes things can get a little silly

abby can be a bit awkward from time to time, despite the confidence that she practically oozes

she’ll spit out a random little comment that she had intended to sound sexy, and then stop her movements as they both begin to giggle at how strange it sounded

not really smut, but i think the general consensus is that abby wears boxers, but i’m more convinced that she prefers boybriefs to boxers and would actually rock thongs and g-strings (from experience, i know that it’s a lot more comfortable to wear these when playing sports/working out bc they don’t move around and won’t give bad wedgies)

she likes to watch y/n touch herself, but will instruct her on what to do

my girl doesn’t like to share, so any thought of inviting others into the bedroom is a definite no, but i feel like she might be open to letting someone watch?

it would have to be someone that she was certain had no genuine feelings for either of them

maybe someone at a party? they had snuck away for some alone time and some girl stumbled in, sat down, and watched as abby went to town

soft dom

doesn’t like to leave visible hickeys

she cares a lot about her public image, and prefers to keep her private life private

will definitely leave them all over y/n’s tits, thighs, and ass, but will avoid leaving them on visible areas like her neck and shoulders

likes to watch porn together <3

i feel like abby doesn’t have a particular type that she watches, just usually picks something random

but then i love the idea of y/n scolding her and spending like half an hour scrolling through the videos

“i like it when they tell a story”

abby thought this was really funny and adorable

aims to make y/n squirt

the first time it happened, it shocked the both of them

abby had her in a mating press, rubbing her clit and fucking into her with her glittery pink cock

y/n suddenly started to slap her chest and try to pull away, claiming that she was gonna pee

abby was no stranger to what this meant (i mean, who wouldn’t squirt from her) and just kept going, once again using her brute strength to keep her still and praising her as her juices began to splash out all over the both of them

while she might get kinky from time to time, she honestly just loves that kind of soft, domestic sex

it makes her feel so close to her partner

like when y/n slips into the shower with her and just slides down onto her knees, or hoisting y/n up onto the counter while they’re waiting for the coffee to finish brewing

after being together for a few years, she definitely developed a breeding kink

while y/n’s still in school, abby will use sex to motivate her to study

when she’s procrastinating on writing a paper (i’m definitely not self inserting here lol) she’ll offer to get her off for every five hundred words she writes

or she’ll be helping her study and start rubbing her clit, speeding up with every correct answer and slowing down with every wrong one

in contrast, y/n will use sex to distract abby when things are all becoming a bit too much

when she’s stressed over exams and won’t come to bed, y/n will sit on the desk in front of her in nothing more than one of abby’s t-shirts

when abby leans back and tries to scold her, y/n will simply part her legs and expose her leaking cunt to her

abby will try to resist, but will only last a few minutes before grasping her thighs and tugging her to the edge of the surface and going to work

after letting her do her thing, y/n will lure her into the bedroom and will go down on her to tire her out even more

abby can’t stop kissing y/n during sex

it’s always so erotic, y/n will be riding the strap and abby will tear her lips away from the jiggling tits in front of her to jam her tongue into her mouth

it would be soft, though, no clashing teeth or fighting for dominance (there’s no point in fighting for that against abby)

instead, it’s slow, gentle tongues brushing together, swallowing each other’s moans

abby loves fucking after a night out–whether its date night, one of her team dinners, or the pair of them had attended a family function. something about getting to strip away y/n’s pretty clothes and watching her makeup getting ruined from sweat, tears, and abby’s juices

sex on special occasions is both of their absolute favourite

depending on whose occasion it was, the other would do their best to make it more special than usual

after abby’s team won the championship game, y/n surprised her after the big party by wearing her jersey and a pair of lace, crotchless panties underneath

abby went feral for it, not even bothering to take a single thing off of her, instead just pushing the jersey up to release her breasts as she worked her up and down on her strap

when y/n made the dean’s list, abby treated her to an at-home spa experience, taking special care to work her open on her tongue and fingers so many times that she couldn’t remember anything aside from abby’s name

[fanstuffrantings]

Honestly, I hope Ruben is related to Professor hopclap by being his Nephew/son/cousin or whatever. Because the idea of the Rat grinders building up thoughts that the bad kids have unfair advantages when all the advantages the bad kids have mirror the Rat grinders would be so juicy. Kipperlily being a rich kid matches up with Fabian already. It would make their arguments petty and superficial, which completely tracks for teenagers.

Teenagers get emotional and reactive. This isn't me saying that teenagers are terrible people and that they're wrong for their feelings, but more so that teenagers tend to be incredibly hormonal and impulsive, which high school doesn't help. Their jealousy makes it so that all of their arguments about how unfair it is that the bad kids get preferential treatment far outweighs the sensible thought that the bad kids are just as privileged (maybe even slightly less so depending on how supportive the parents are) as the right grinders.

Sometimes, hatred you have for people doesn't make complete sense. The bad kids largely are very welcoming and friendly. Some of them can be knuckleheads, but for the most part what they do is always to help others. They're the cool kids in school even if we as the viewers don't always notice it because we see them for the dorks they are. In freshmen year they got arrested for murder charges, broke out of prison after a few months, and saved the day from the vice principal who they'd been actively investigating for months.

In sophomore year both during spring break and summer they save the world 2 more times when their spring break quest unfolded into something bigger.

They're legends at Aguefort and that means all of their classmates probably get incredibly overshadowed.

They see the accomplishments without the sacrifices. They don't think about Kristen dying in the nightmare forest and having to revive herself because no one else could or how tough it's been for her becoming disillusioned with her faith that told her she deserved to burn for who she was. She's the lesbian cleric who broke away from her faith, started 2 religions, weight lifts now, and is chill enough to run for president and jump into a pool of sauce on the back if a flaming motorcycle.

They don't think about Fig finding out she was a child of an affair leading to her father saying she was unwanted and her having to find who she was, something she's still doing. They see fig as the Rockstar revolutionary girl who befriends the outcasts, is the arch devil of fhe bottomless pit, daughter of Gorthalax, and person willing to smoke at any opportunity regardless of whether she'd get in trouble for it.

Fabian isn't a guy unlearning his ingrained toxic masculinity after killing his dad and being raised to believe money, intimidation, and brute strength were how you get through life. They see the captain of the football team who hosts parties at his massive mansion, rides a demonic motorcycle, has a mom dating the vice principal, and is a world class dancer.

Riz had to work through the death of his father at a young age, constant ridicule from peers who didn't want him, and a desperation to do whatever it takes to be wanted that he still hasn't gotten over. But most people see a classmate who has everything figured out and the ability to connect the dots at all times. Plus a nickname from the football team that's said with love.

Adaine with her social anxiety she's now medicated for, parents who never loved her, an older sister she's only barely starting to bond with, and a barely passing grade in her class because she has no money to make ends meet. But she's also the elven oracle, cool party wizard who summons mephits to chill drinks, magically gifted in truly amazing ways, and will always remember your name after speaking to you.

Gorgug who was lovingly raised but always felt disconnected due to his parents not being able to understand him, who had to push against porter for 2.5 years before finally getting a chance to be taught by someone who didn't talk down to him, trying his best but failing so often. But to most he's a football player, rock star, hyper intelligent mechanic, rebellious teen, and now dude who oinked at a fed.

We all as viewers are aware of their flaws and their awesome moments, but the school at large only knows their moments that gained them more attention. Of course the Rat grinders would become jealous and angry when things seem so much easier for them. Of course they'd perceive any instances of the bad kids being friendly as them looking down on others because obviously they're too popular to be genuine. But if the rat grinders can prove the bad kids are the horrible people they think they are and stop them from succeeding, then it just puts things right doesn't it?

[shadowqueenjude]

That Solstice scene :(((

@zenkindoflove I'm sorry for this one... @achaotichuman will probably love it though. Lucien closed his eyes shut, trying to shut down all the feeling in his body, his mind. But he felt everything, as if someone were poking him with hot iron rods. He writhed in his bed, trying to control the urges his body were feeding him. His hands clutched the covers, his teeth gritted with the effort to stay in bed. It took every bit of willpower he'd ever had in his life to resist the urge to storm into that hall and rip Azriel to shreds. He knew he would win. He knew Azriel was terrified of fire, and his mated rage would do the rest. But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't hurt him, even though his body screamed bloody murder. He would endure, as he'd endured every time he'd come across that slimy worm Graysen in the human lands. He'd swallow his screams because he was a gentleman. But sometimes he was so tired of being the nice guy. Sometimes, he longed to do something crazy and rip people to shreds, like he had done that day in Hybern when he'd rushed to see if Elain was ok. But his crazy had only done him a disservice with Amarantha. His eye. The stinging crack of the whip as Tamlin was forced to hurt him. And as he sensed her arousal, he couldn't control the low growl that slipped from his lips. He was going to feel it; every moment of her fucking that Illyrian brute, and he'd have to stay silent because he knew she needed space, not an overbearing mate snapping at her not to do whatever she pleases... He entertained himself by imagining himself destroying Azriel, tearing his throat out with his teeth. His entire body heated up, and got up, realizing he'd burned his sheets to cinders. He couldn't endure this. He had to winnow away before he folded to his instincts and ripped Azriel's heart straight out of his chest. But then... He felt Elain's hurt and embarrassment, heard the murmured conversation and realized something had stopped them. Not something-someone. Lucien gripped his face so hard that it was miracle his skin didn't peel off. He'd wanted to kill Azriel for daring to touch Elain, and now he wanted to kill him even more for daring to hurt Elain's feelings without apologizing. He slipped out of his room, following the scent of the shadowsinger. Lucien's anger faded slightly, replaced by surprise at Rhysand scolding Azriel. Rhysand had always seemed as if he barely tolerated him, but perhaps this...meant he was warming up to him. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?" "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." Lucien laughed under his breath. He always knew that Azriel disliked him, but this was downright pathetic. Lucien had nothing and no one. He had a mate who avoided him at all costs, and even that Azriel wished to take from him. News flash, Azriel: Lucien might not be good enough for her, but neither was he. "I'll defeat him with little effort." Good lord, did he truly believe that? Did he forget that he fears fire? Did he forget the strength of a mated male's rage? Did he forget what Lucien had survived? "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Lucien bared his teeth in a feral smile, some savage part of him quelled thanks to Rhysand's interference. And that line...Lucien couldn't have said it better himself. How dare he treat Elain like a prostitute? No one understood the pain Lucien was in better than Rhysand himself. Perhaps, at last, he was beginning to sway the members of the Night Court to not treat him like dog shit. He tried not to think about Elain, resisting the urge to rush to Elain and make sure she's ok, to embrace her and kiss her troubles away. He'd endure this, just as he'd endured Beron, as he'd endured Amarantha, as he'd endured Tamlin, as he'd endured Ianthe, as he'd endured the Inner Circle.

[eldritch-spouse]

I don’t know if this has been asked before, but how would some of your characters (breg, Kalymir, Morell, etc) take it if you tried to break up?

[It's been asked a few times with various characters, but I do need to massively update the masterlist.]

You've seen Breg react to pleas for break ups before, and you know that his brain just doesn't compute that. His antsiness and sudden paranoia will lead him to very effectively lock you in your own home. And no one wants that, because Breg can't manage a home on his own. Perhaps the cleaning part he's decent at, but cooking, managing bills, so on and so forth are out of his cumbrain depth. You'll need to gain back his trust and try a different method, or suffer through his increasingly more paranoid and insecure behavior as he begs to know what he did so wrong.

You're bold to think you can even mention breaking up with Kalymir. This fucker just rips you from wherever you are and drags you to Hell to be his Queen, this isn't even a proper relationship. You've been kidnapped. No matter how well the two of you end up getting along later down the line, the option to separate is never there, because Kalymir has no issues making use of his brute strength to make sure you don't make it anywhere, or get maimed and leave a trail of crumbs for him to find you. He's actually a bit excited by your silly little challenge.

Likewise, with Morell, chances are that expressing a desire to break up either leads you to the warehouse that much faster, or, if you're already there, earns you a visit to the chopping block. He intends to mostly scare you out of the idea, remove a finger at most. You have to learn that you can't say stupid shit sometimes. Break up? Yeah sure, and where do you think that's going to land you here? In someone's platter. Think a little, piglet...

[j0ystix]

Fem skk , some things I think would have happened in this alt universe, realistically speaking

SKK 15-18:

- Fem Dazai cross dresses A LOT. She’s tall and she’s flat, she can easily cross dress and her alter masc persona is a guy name Oba Yōzō.

- Dazai loves to cross dress because 1) it’s fun and she’s pretty damn good looking as a guy 2) she feels safe as Yōzō. Whenever she is Yōzō, she feels like she’s protected underneath a mask

- Dazai has short hair at 15 but grew it out. It was very tangled and messy until Chuuya keeps complaining about it but that only encourages Dazai to grow it longer. It was until her ends were dead and dry

- Chuuya gets flustered when people make her gifts. SHE LOVES FLOWERS but she’ll never admit it

- skk do each other’s hair all of the time

- once when Dazai and Chuuya got into a fight, Dazai ran off to get drunk in a bar late at night and Chuuya didn’t have the heart to leave her on her own so she followed her and made sure she got home safe

- Dazai and Chuuya didn’t go to the arcade like our normal SKK, they went shopping and karaoke where they shoplifted stuff 💀

- they would go to changing rooms and have casual conversations in their bra and underwear (Chuuya found it weird at first but it just became a normal thing to see each other naked)

- Chuuya was very tomboyish but her body matured faster than her. She learnt from a very young age about the brute reality of being a woman. I hc that chuuya is quite blessed on the chest but she will definitely grow up to become a confident lady

- Chuuya makes sure Dazai eats. Dazai doesn’t have an eating disorder but sometimes she tries to commit su*c*de by starving herself or she just gets too occupied to eat or she has no appetite to eat. Because of this, adults often poke fun at Dazai for being too skinny. Dazai felt humiliated but she never shows it and Chuuya was so pissed. Let’s face it, 15-18 Dazai won’t take care of herself and she probably looks horrid aside from the times she purposely beautifies herself for a mission

- Chuuya will insult Dazai but will never allow a man to do the same

- Chuuya doesn’t like men. As in, she can professionally converse with them and work with them and respect them whenever respect is due but she will never purposely befriend a man or get too comfortable with a man. Basically, she’s on guard whenever she’s around them.

- Dazai adores men. She loves clinging onto guys’ arms and having them worship her. Hence, the port mafia men were practically wrapped around her finger

- Ok double black is cute BUT IMAGINE Fem skk weren’t called double black…they were called Port Mafia’s Maneaters because they devour every man that stands in their way

- Dazai was not nicknamed the Demon Prodigy like her male counterpart, she was nicknamed ‘Bloody Mary’. Her kill count is only 50 BECAUSE (she has killed 138 people like male Dazai) the other 88 victims were driven to suicide because of her. She doesn’t like getting her fingers dirty. This shows that she’s just an impressive manipulator at a young age. Jouno probably can’t find her criminal records because her crimes were done under Yōzō therefore, technically, fem dazai is innocent and has never committed a single crime. (The only way fem dazai would’ve gotten jailed in season 5 was probably because someone in the port mafia vouched that she was an executive so Jouno managed to tie Yōzō to her it escalated from there)

- Fem Dazai can manipulate her voice and impersonate others

- no way Fem Dazai is a fighter. She hates getting physical because she knows she’ll lose in a pure strength fight. She’s pretty scrawny and probably not that strong so she uses her charms and wits to make up for it way more than male Dazai does

- Fem Chuuya is more known for her speed than strength. When Dazai left, she was still called the Maneater of the Port Mafia because she obliterates men on her own LOL

- Chuuya enjoyed going out at night with the flags. It was to the point that people called her The Queen Of The Night. Chuuya has always presumed a title with ‘queen’ in it like Queen Of The Sheeps which shows how protective she is

- fem chuuya is protective. VERY VERY protective. Even with Dazai. She twisted a man’s arm off because the man tried to touch Dazai

- Mori probably made them do sexual things when they were younger because it’s the mafia. But they protected each other from creepy adults

- Chuuya grows up to dress more revealingly (I still think her regular work outfit consists of long pants rather than a skirt because pants are more practical for fighting), Dazai took on a more passive appearance (she still dresses sexy though but not 24/7 like Chuuya) BUT they are both embracing their sexuality and they rock! Chuuya’s allure is more hot while Dazai’s allure is more cute but their personality is swapped, Chuuya is a flustered mess and Dazai is a flirtatious piece of shit

- when dazai left, yes she blew up Chuuya’s car BUT she also bedazzled her motorbike with her a jewel gun and painted it pink

- They had a burnt book which Dazai kept to blackmail Chuuya.

- both of them owned diaries

- There was once when Chuuya had a crush on a newcomer and she was so flustered around him but Dazai found out and fucked everything up and chased him away. Chuuya didn’t speak to Dazai for a week and Dazai felt genuinely bad

- both of them can sing really well but Chuuya is shy

- Chuuya would travel from her apartment to Dazai’s just to bring her a pad just for Dazai to say that it wasn’t period cramps, it was diarrhoea

22 SKK

- DAZAI DEFINITELY GREW INTO HER BEAUTY. She took care of her hair and everything and oh god she’s just beautiful.

- when dazai left the mafia, she survived on her boyfriends to keep her financially afloat LOL and she ended up ghosting all of them

-Dazai definitely dated someone’s granddad and inherited his money. Girl is rich but she just doesn’t like to spend and she walks around with a bag that only has lipgloss and a tampon.

- on that note, fem Dazai definitely carry a gun wherever she goes. It’ll be during dire emergencies where she’ll whipped it out from her small dainty purse and everyone will be like “what the fuck you had a gun this whole time?”

- WHENEVER FEM DAZAI WANTS TO DRESS UP FOR AN OCCASION, SHE WILL TIE A RIBBON AROUND HER NECK USING THE BANDAGES 🤭

- Chuuya is definitely friends with models.

- Chuuya uses a knife to draw her eyeliner

- ! Chuuya once brought Akutagawa for bra shopping and Akutagawa turned so red that she resembled a traffic light. Their interaction went:

Akutagawa : what is this? *holds up lingerie* why does it have 7 holes? Where does my arm go?

Chuuya : what do you think of this *holds up a thong*

Akutagawa : what’s the difference between that and just putting up dental floss up my-

[nocturnesmoon]

I have thoughts spurring around in my head like feral cats chasing a bouncy ball, and I'm making it everyone's problem.

What if we take the world of star wars, and smash you and the 141 into it.

There are so many different combinations and turns this could take, but what I'm thinking about is the 141, ex-military turned smugglers, and you a Jedi in hiding after order 66.

The clone wars have finally come to its brutal end, and the empire has taken over the known galaxy. The Jedi have been portrayed as traitors and have been promptly executed, and the rest forced into hiding.

It looks bleak for anyone still holding onto the hope of the republic, anyone not willing to adapt to the new world gets destroyed right along with the old.

The 141 being forcefully retired, not that they minded at this point they knew it was a losing fight. With their options limited, and not keen to do the empire's bidding, or anyone's bidding ever again, they chose the obvious choice, to run.

It wasn't the ideal outcome, but with a timer on their lives, and conflicted opinions, Price took charge of the group. He knew that right now survival was the only thing that mattered, that his men would still live to see another day.

The year of acclimating to their new life was rough, they were used to sticking together but they also normally had more direction than this. Being wanted in any area governed by the empire limited a lot of work options for them.

It quite honestly didn't take long before Price resorted to less moral means, it was how their career as smugglers started.

With Gaz's excellent piloting skills, Soap's weaponry and science knowledge, Ghost's brute strength and intimating demeanor, and Price's own smooth tongue and connections, it was the most optimal choice.

And much to the their own surprise, they're pretty damn good at it.

They make good money smuggling a lot of different things across the galaxy, food, weapons, illegal goods. They take almost any job they can get in the start; they don't have time to be picky just yet, they need the credits more than good morals.

Their wanted status is likely to never get alleviated, but they combat it by never settling in one place too long. They prioritize the credits they have and get a ship big enough for both their job and to house the four of them. They're already used to being close, while this is a step further it's nothing any one of them has anything against.

They all agreed that they would stay together, they started this together and they'll end it together.

A few years in they have gotten quite the reputation for themselves, at least among other known smugglers and wanted criminals. They get bigger job opportunities, higher pay, more risk.

The bond they forge between each other is something none of them could explain, but they embrace its qualities, it's comfort and pleasure.

Some things are better to just leave unexplained and enjoy while they last. The only thing they have is each other, and they've grown quite content with that.

That was until something unexpected crash landed into their lives.

Docked at some lesser-known planet in system of farmers, they had originally planned to stop there for a few days to stock up on supplies and look for less likely work opportunities. Farmers sometimes had some strange inquiries they were quite content spending massive amounts of the little credits they have.

It was a peaceful little community, none the wiser to the person hiding amongst them. You, a Jedi who somehow survived the purge of order 66, posing as mechanic. Outside of your Jedi teachings, you had clear proficiency in anything creating and fixing.

It had been the perfect cover during the last year, who would suspect that the innocent mechanic trying to get by would harbor such a grave secret. That the kind person living in the rundown house, would be so full of survivors’ guilt that it was nothing short of a miracle they were still going.

It had roughly been 2 years since order 66, 2 years since you had survived and fled, 2 years on the run from the empire and the usual calm feeling of the force now gone.

Images still fresh on your brain despite the time, of your master, of your friends, those you'd considered your family dying from blasters that once aided them.

Every time you reached out through the force it was now hollow, the echo going into your brain and body, reminding you of the terrifying fact that you were truly alone.

You had no idea why you survived out of everyone, not even a fully trained Jedi, a mere Padawan with few accomplishments to their name. You shouldn't have survived that, someone better should be here in your place, yet no matter how much you think those thoughts, you can't change the reality.

The small farmer planet had been a good hiding spot for quite a while, you even dared to make a few friends during your stay. Despite it being less of a good idea you still kept your blade, the kyber crystal within being the only thing giving you comfort in your grief. Though you hadn't expected to ever need it again, especially not this soon.

Never had you expected that the empire would set their sights here, nor had you expected your methods of hiding had actually been that horrible. It didn't take them longer than a few days ‘til the people you thought friends practically turned you in.

You couldn't find it in your heart to blame them, the empire had very convincing methods, yet it still meant you were forced into a run for your life.

When the 141 had set their sights on this planet they hadn't expected the empire to already be here when they arrived. Price had insisted that the planet was still free, and he was right, a week ago.

They remained inconspicuous, did their shopping, and didn't snoop around too long. There was no need to get the empire hot on their tails once again.

When Ghost and Gaz went into the market, they intended on staying out of trouble, and technically they weren't the ones roped into it.

When they first spotted you, running from a few storm troopers, lightsaber blade raised, they nearly didn't believe their own eyes. All the Jedi were supposed to be dead, yet here you were, a sight to behold.

Nothing about their next actions were ruled by logic, if you ask them later about what they were thinking they couldn't tell you, because the only thing that was a priority now was to help you.

Perhaps it was some sort of obligation, maybe a sliver of hope for something better, or maybe it was just something about you that tugged at them, making them want to protect and help you.

Backed into a cornered alley, almost having lost your pursuers you felt the new threat loom behind you. A technique that was familiar in ways you couldn't explain, and too fast for you to register and counter. You were knocked out cold, and the next time you woke you were on a spaceship in space.

To say that Price was furious with the two was an understatement, they had more or less kidnapped someone unprompted. While Soap found the situation hilarious, he also had a feeling there was way more to this, and a possible danger they could've avoided.

When you wake it's Price that greets you, making sure to establish himself to not be a threat to you, so you didn't do anything drastic. You were on edge, understandably so, but he managed to explain the situation while also avoiding the main topic at hand.

You knew it would come up, he was toying with your lightsaber in his hands while you talked, and no matter how much you stared it down you didn't dare lunge for it yet. The dreaded question, and the answer that people had such varying reactions to.

"You're Jedi?"

You had expected something else when you confirmed to him what you were, what you've been since you could remember. A part of you had expected them to be bounty hunters, ready to turn you over to the empire at a moment’s notice. The reward on your head would be great, you imagine, yet that's not what he does.

He reminisces instead, telling you of a Jedi he once knew, of how he and his men had fought alongside a few of them on special occasions. Never had you imagine that this is where you would end up, in the metaphorical arms of people who could care maybe just a little.

He gave you an offer, they could drop you off at whatever location you requested, or they could work a sort of partnership.

You don't know what to make of it at first. They seem genuine, but people have ratted you out for less. You don't have a lot of options, going somewhere else and trying to find another inconspicuous farming planet wasn't the most viable choice, but neither was bunking with them. Who knew what kind of people they were.

Your chances were not the best, and unfortunately you had a sneaking suspicion they knew that. Whether their intentions were noble or just pity, you decided to take the risk and stay. If it all came crashing down, you'd still have your training, it had gotten you this far, it could get you further.

The first few days you stayed with them was tense, they were all in agreement on keeping you, there was nothing hostile about it, but it was still tense. It was partially your own doing, you walked on eggshells around them, never letting any of them behind you, etc. etc.

They understood to an extent, the way they met you wasn't exactly on the best of terms, it was natural for you to be cautious. So, they let you have your space, they don't pressure you into anything but do try to coax you into a more comfortable environment with them.

The crack starts to form when you see them all gathered in the main area of the ship, laughing, talking, playing a game you're unfamiliar with. Soap is the first to notice you staring, with a big grin on his face he invites you to join them. Hesitant but interested you approach.

Price explains the rules to you, and you get to watch for a round or two before you join in on your own. They go easy on you but you're a quick learner, and it doesn't take long before you become quite vicious in your play.

It becomes a common thing, almost nightly that they all gather to spend time together. The bond between each other grows fast, and it's not long before you start feeling like this is exactly where you're meant to be.

Settling in with them becomes easier and easier, as if they had always waited for another person to welcome in with them. To fill a missing part, they didn't know they needed.

While keeping the secret of what you are is the topmost priority, you end up helping them out on jobs. Due to your training you're very adaptable, able to fill any position where something was missing.

You were an excellent mechanic when the ship was down, and with Gaz's magic touch it halved the time it usually took to repair.

Soap had a really fun time explaining a bunch of different things about weaponry and the science behind it. There had been a lot of different questions you had in the clone wars that was left unanswered, you could finally have someone enthusiastic that could explain them to you.

A lot of long rides were spent like that, of you asking him questions and then more questions because the math he talked about in the first question was confusing.

Even though you were just a Padawan back then, you still had made your fair share of connections during the clone wars. People that you and your old master had come across, and old friends outside of the Jedi order.

Price found it very useful, and though most of the connections you had were friendship and not business, it could still be used as such. A few of them he even helped rekindle, you've been grateful for that ever since.

Though the Jedi order is no more you still try to keep up with your training. You have no guidance any longer, nothing new to look at, but you can maintain what you know.

The others are happy to help you with it as well, they know it's important to you and a part of them have always found it fascinating how you train.

Occasionally you'd have them all surround you in a circle, setting their blasters to stun and randomly shooting at you. It helped sharpening your senses, helped you rely on the force to guide your hand, and to deflect more accurately.

You'd do a lot of training with Ghost that wasn't necessarily Jedi training. While you did a lot of mental training on your own, the physical part was something Ghost had a lot of enjoyment in helping you with.

Sparring, running, lifting, anything he could think of that would help you, he did, and it quickly became thing for you two to train together.

It wasn't anything you had expected with them, not in a million years would you have imagined ending up here. It was a thing you couldn't predict, but neither was order 66.

Nobody you knew had been able to foresee the collapse of the Jedi order. Some things were just left up to chance, and currently here with the 141, you liked your odds.

I just finished reading the book project hail mary, and not too long ago i reread the Ahsoka book. So safe to say i've been in a bit of a space mood, still am.

And what better way to utilize that, than combine my hyperfixation on the 141 and my special interest star wars hehe.