#i've just had other ideas floating around my mind for weeks now

[justruse]

the way i have three more ideas for interactive fics in addition to ONCE BITTEN. the pain of not having enough time in the day to work on all of them.

#ramblings #let me know if you want to hear about them idk #once bitten is still absolutely my top priority though #i've just had other ideas floating around my mind for weeks now

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

--

Jackson. 

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present. 

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day. 

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive. 

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades. 

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.  

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life. 

This…this was for him, and for you. 

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week. 

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it. 

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway. 

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map. 

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach. 

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot. 

Another life, upended by abrupt violence. 

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had. 

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child. 

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago. 

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed. 

Jackson. 

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window. 

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this. 

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants. 

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter. 

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty. 

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch. 

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down. 

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is. 

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it. 

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.” 

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind. 

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself. 

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“Don’t worry about it,  honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you. 

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you. 

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching. 

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness. 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. 

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite. 

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?” 

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place. 

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his. 

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it. 

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints. 

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them. 

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago. 

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same. 

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like. 

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings. 

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl. 

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing. 

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth. 

“Joel?”

“Yea?” 

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you. 

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass. 

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory. 

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up. 

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin. 

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles. 

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest. 

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten. 

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away. 

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.” 

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat. 

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a  weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner. 

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet. 

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you. 

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own. 

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over. 

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel. 

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?” 

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss. 

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat. 

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.  

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine. 

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb. 

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast. 

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat. 

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple. 

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop. 

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak. 

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized. 

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest. 

“Holy shit.” 

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm. 

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take. 

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body  in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss. 

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks. 

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable. 

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine. 

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips. 

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise. 

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind. 

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster. 

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. 

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster. 

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons. 

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin. 

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants. 

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes. 

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair. 

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself. 

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation. 

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward. 

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know. 

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you. 

“Joel!” 

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath. 

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep. 

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh. 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.  

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[rosaspicypaper]

I wasn't even ten when my mother taught me to shave. It was exciting. I felt grown up. She explained to me, gently, that I would have a lot to get rid of for the rest of my life. We just had a lot of body hair, more than average. So, there I remember being a little girl, taking a blade to my skin every time I had to shower. A family hardly able to afford food for the week, but we still prioritized a razor for a child in the fifth grade. It grew everywhere, even thick and dark on my thighs. I took it all away, sometimes spending 15 minutes double checking myself to make sure I got every last one. And then, if I found I didn't once had I dried off, I'd get back in and finish the job, or do it dry to ensure I got it all, razor burn preferable to hair. It didn't stop there. I wasn't stupid. I knew the legs weren't the only place you didn't want to have body hair. Once I felt I had the hang of it, I started to shave my armpits. My belly. My chest. My pubic area. My arms. And, as a courtesy of the bones in my wrist, I eventually took out a chunk of flesh so deep and wide you can still see the scar over a decade later. My mom understood. She bandaged me up, and I maintained my routine. Middle school was harder. I kept it up, but kids saw through it. They called me a dog. I had to get rid of even more, I determined. Shaving my chest and my belly turned into waxing. I became self conscious of the dark hair on my cheeks and my jaw, my upper lip and what lay outside of an ideal brow shape. I ripped it all away, checking twice daily for hair I missed, and if I found any I had a pair of tweezers to help finish the job. I was, of course, introduced to the idea floating around online that women didn't have to remove their body hair. I agreed, I thought, that women could do whatever they wanted with their body hair! And if that was the case, I'd choose to keep getting rid of mine. We've all heard the same excuse parrotted around: "I just like the way it feels." And I did. Of course I did. I was used to the smooth skin and that baby soft feel, the validation and admiration that came with having a perfect, hairless...everything. I was okay with other women making the choice to have it because their choice wasn't going to make me feel otherly. I never genuinely understood how miserable it was to maintain the routine until my sophomore year of high school. It had become as second nature to me as brushing my teeth or washing my hair. But, I chose to stop shaving. Over the years, I would cave to the misery and get rid of it all over again, but eventually I'd let it grow out, and it was uncomfortable. It was scary. The prickling hair drove me crazy, the sandy feel of my legs making me squirm once it had grown out. I loathed putting lotion on. It felt like I had to use half the bottle just to get to my legs. Jeans in the summer until I couldn't stand it anymore, friends that flushed with embarrassment when we'd go to the pool. A mother pleading me to do it again, "for me". Struggling to find products that would work for me because women's hygiene isn't formulated with women's natural selves in mind... by now, I don't think I've shaved in over 4 years, and I certainly don't feel so otherly anymore. Was it the easy choice? Was it the comfortable one? Not at all, but I feel as though it was the necessary one.

#feminism #self love #acceptance #anti shaving #body posititivity

[schlatt-love-bot]

Chuckle Diner (Prologue)

so, i've been a little influenced by my current obsession with bistro huddy on tiktok as well as a few ideas i've seen floating around here on tumblr of executive chef!schlatt x hostess!reader, and thus chuckle diner was born. this is simply the prologue—the first chapter i'm hoping to post some time this weekend!! enjoy, and let me know your thoughts below~

Moving to a new city was never easy, especially when you just up and left your old life behind. Fresh starts were exciting to you—you enjoy the thrill of meeting new people, making new connections, and the idea of starting over again—but no one warned you before you left your small town two states over how hard it would be to adjust to life when you had little to no money left in your savings. 

“I don’t know, man. I just thought things would click for me when I left home. I thought the puzzle pieces would start fitting into place, that life would get easier.” You sighed, sipping the last few drops of your drink before putting the empty glass back on the bar and turning to the patron beside you. 

“Well, I think you’re just not putting in the effort to make things better. Have you even considered starting to look for any jobs around here, (Y/N)? I can’t keep supplying you with free drinks forever.” Charlie let out a chuckle before signaling to the bar tender to serve you both one more drink and then to give him his tab. Charlie was one of the first people you met in this small town, at this exact bar where you two sat now. He was one of the only people in the place to go out of his way to talk to you—and not just outright flirt with you like the other fine specimens in the joint had done. Needless to say the two of you hit it off, and you’ve made a pact with him to meet at the bar at least once a week to check in and see how one another is doing. 

“Well…I haven’t exactly started…it’s just hard! I’m not really qualified for much, I just barely graduated high school, and I never went off to college…” Your voice trailed off, while Charlie shook his head. 

“You know, this diner down the way is actually looking to hire, I’m a regular there since a couple of my other friends work there. Maybe you can apply there!” He says, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as you take a moment to consider his proposal. 

“A diner Charlie? Really? I’m not fit to be in the kitchen, and I’m not the most coordinated person in the world so being a server is definitely out.” You said, looking at him with disappointment. 

“Good thing for you the position they're looking to fill is for a hostess, and they’re in desperate need. Swing by tomorrow morning and I can guarantee you’ll be getting yourself a job.” He says, finding a pen and a scrap piece of paper on the edge of the bar to write down the location of this diner before sliding it over to you, finishing his drink, and leaving you to ponder. 

Chuckle Diner, you read in your mind. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give it a chance in the morning. 

__________________________________________________________

prologue complete! let me know what y'all think!! i'm really excited about the potential this series has!

#schlatt #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt fanfic #schlatt fic #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #chuckle sandwich #chuckle sandwich x reader #charlie slimecicle #ted nivison #ted nivision x reader

[football-and-fanfics]

Hidden feeling - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount Prompt: "How long did you think you could hide that?" Notes with request: I’d love for it to be at the beach during sunset, on holiday with friends and mason asks y/n how long did she thought she could hide her feelings from him. Requested by: anonymous Warnings: none

This holiday was the most amazing one you'd ever been on. With a group of friends you had chartered a yacht for a week and sailed around the Caribbean. You were actually mostly a friend of Declan's, and that was how you found your way into this group, although you knew all the others as well from previous parties and gatherings. Through Declan you knew Mason, too. You had always fancied him somewhat, but this holiday, where you spent entire days close to him, made you realize that you were in fact head over heels for him. You couldn't keep your eyes off his smile, and the sound of his laugh was music to your ears. Whenever he accidentally brushed a hand against your skin, it sent butterflies to your stomach and made you feel like you could float off of the ground.

But you didn't say anything to him about it. You were just a normal girl, and he was a famous professional footballer. Why the hell would he be into you? So, out of fear of getting turned down or laughed at, you kept your feelings to yourself. ---- Today, after a wonderful dinner at a quiet beach, Mason approached you. As you sat at the waterline by yourself, watching the beautiful sunset, he sat himself down next to you. "How long did you think you could hide that?" He spoke out of the blue. "Wh-- what?" You were taken aback by his question. Your mind immediately wandered to the one big secret you had at the moment, and that was your crush on Mason. "I've seen the way you look at me," Mason smirked. The confidence dripping from every pore was actually enviable. "I..." You hesitated. If ever there was a perfect moment to come clean about this, it was now. And, frankly, Mason did not seem to shy away from the idea of you being in love with him. "I might have a bit of a crush on you." You finally blurted out. "It's stupid..." "No, it's not," Mason interrupted you, "because... so do I." You blinked slightly stupidly at him. "You have a crush on you, too?" Mason laughed out loud. "No, silly! I love you!" Now it was Mason's turn to fall silent. He hadn't exactly meant to express his feelings so explicitly, but he had to admit that it felt good anyway. "I've seen you at Dec's before," he started, "and you've always caught my attention. This holiday, this week together, it made me realise my true feelings for you." You blushed fiery red. "For me, too." "That settles it, then," he smirked. The confidence was immediately visible again in Mason's entire posture. "So... you want to give it a try?" You asked shyly. Mason smiled, already leaning into you. "Absolutely." And under the beautiful Caribbean sunset, he kissed you. A first kiss of many more to come.

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @de-geas, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @scuderiavettcl Mason tags: @livstilinski, @juliabrghs, @footballffbarbiex, @youkantebeserious, @laurasstufff1 PL tags: @ella33 Add me to the tags list, too! For more of my Mason imagines, click here General masterlist

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballandfanficsmasonmount

[danpuff-ao3]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Oooh, thanks for passing this to me, Lizzy! 😄 Let's see....100 fics, how to choose 5? 🤔 Well all know #1 already, don't we? 😂 So I'll take a leaf out of Lizzy's book and do a countdown to 1!

5.) A Matter of Time

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 3,686. Written for Snarry Adopt-a-Prompt 2022. Features reverse chronology and alternating POVs! Also: ambiguous/open ending (my love!) It feels like the Snarry of my youth, that angsty and spicy student/teacher, and some good old fashioned tragedy! I really feel like I pulled the thing off with this one! (What is said "thing"? Who knows.) Also, not to pat myself on the back but...that final line? Ouch.

4.) Cruel Summer

Harry/Sirius. Rated: E. Words: 5,445. Minor Harry/Severus. Written for HP Chan Fest 2022-2023. Features gorgeous art by @mrviran. It's a fic I've had floating around my noggin' for a few years but finally felt the call to write for Chan Fest! Our two beloved, troubled boys (Harry and Sirius) live together post PoA, and sees them through plenty of dysfunction, manipulation, and other problematic content 🤭 They have a very complicated (and angsty!) connection and I am so so pleased with how it came out! It's very bit as spicy, sad, and twisted as I'd hoped!

3.) The Curse of Anteros

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 52,566. Written for Snarry Bang 2023. Inspired by an episode of Charmed called "Magic Hour" (which itself was inspired by a movie called Ladyhawke). This is another idea I've long wanted to write, but never knew how to write it until now. Curses, fairytales, magical animals, true love!! Begins with student/teacher and carries on through time to old men Snarry!!!! This fic really grew way out of control and I'm so glad it did. It feels like...a "proper" story, if that makes sense? Actual plot! Novel length! Who am I even???? Anyway I'm stupidly proud of this one. Also: ART BY MRVILLAIN AGAIN, MY BELOVED TEAMMATE, I'M OBSESSED. Like...idk I'm blown away. Which sounds bad cuz this is my story, but I don't care. This is genuinely a story that not only was I so pumped to create, but one that I'd have LOVED to read as a reader! Had someone else written this I'd have lost my mind reading it. I hate saying that, it sounds so arrogant, but I don't care, I'm losing my mind over this one. I wrote it in like 2 weeks!!!! This fic POURED out of me! And I love it!

2.) Collateral Damage

Draco/Ron. Rated: E. Words: 16,071. Written for Ron-Draco Fest 2021. The first draft of this got to like 10k before I had to scrap it and start totally over. Somehow the original opening kept winding down the wrong path. So finally after fighting with it for way too long (and only 2 weeks to go until it was due), I gave it up and tried again. Decided: "hey, let's open with porn and see what happens." Well...That worked. That did it. All I needed was to open with a BJ for magic to happen, who knew? I ended up with a story I was super jazzed about, and to my great surprise (and pleasure!) others loved it, too!!

1.) Contempt | Devotion

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 20,400 | 25,843. Written for Snarry-a-Thon 2022 and 2023. This one's cheating a bit since it's technically 2 fics, but it's also the same story in different POVs so...it kinda counts, right? Also I know people have told me they liked Devotion more but I can't help but admit that Contempt itself still holds the top spot in my heart! And while I think say The Curse of Anteros is a better overall story, I don't think any fic ever will top Contempt. I mean, never say never, but Contempt is the story of dreams. It's my heart and soul. It's the Snarry I've always wanted to write. The story, the dynamic, the characterizations, everything. It's everything I've wanted in a Snarry since I first began reading Snarry 20 years ago. Like...I have no words to express just how meaningful this work is to me. This is literally the culmination of all of my Snarry feels. I dragged this story out of my gut. I pulled it out of my skin and wrote it in my blood. That's how connected I am to this work. (Wow that sounds really dramatic but also...true.)

Genuinely I was so cared people would hate it, but I wrote it anyway because I needed it and I loved it. I'm very glad to say that plenty of others love it with me! And this is another one @mrviran offered love to in the form of a podfic! (Plus cover art!) I'm fully obsessed with the podfic (AND ART!) and I get all teary eyed when I think about it, that my dear friend worked so hard to bring more life to my baby. 🥹

Kinda funny how my favorite works (and what i consider some of my best works) were all for fests. Fests really do inspire me, even if they make me want to pull my hair out. 😂

Also is it cheating to give honorary mentions to Lover Boy at Play, In My Veins (In My Blood), Orange Blossoms, Teardrop in Your Palm, and Black Skies? 👀

#self recs #snarry #dron #sirry #favorites #top 5 #self love #positivity post

[demenior]

go full keith ya dumbass and the novaks for wip ask

Check my list of current wips here and send me a title and I’ll post a bit or share some details about it.

the novaks is where i've been putting ideas about how The Novak Family fits in the the love it takes series. The basic idea is that the Novaks (Amelia and Claire) end up in the Winchester orbit at some point, and then pain. I don't have any scenes written, but here's the ideas:

Amelia reads Dean n Cas a new one for stealing and killing her husband

When she finds out Dean n Cas are Together she rightfully goes after Dean for sleeping with her husbands’ corpse

Why couldn’t Cas have taken someone else? Why couldn’t he have gotten a new vessel? Does he even understand how hard it is to know Jimmy’s gone? That Jimmy trusted Cas and now he’s dead, and now they have an empty grave because Cas is still out in the world with Jimmy’s body and neither Amelia nor Claire can get any closure

Amelia also gets to be pissed for the crisis of faith she got: God and angels are real, but they don’t care about you. They will destroy your family and you get nothing in return.

Claire asks Cas to hold her for a minute. Because that's her dad, or at least his body. It's a strange creature wearing her dad's skin and calling it his own now. And she's a girl who lost her father and misses him desperately.

“Dad put his arms like this” “Do you want me to do that?” “Yeah. And don’t… don’t talk for a minute, okay?”

She just wants to be held by her dad one last time, and cries into Cas' arms

Claire, who can kinda Perceive Cas’ true form, because she’s a vessel: hey you got bigger (or changed?)

Cas, looking at Claire who is a few years older now: so did you

---

go full keith ya dumbass is a segment from an (unfinished) Switch the Beat series (Voltron) in which, well, Keith was going Full Keith and launching himself into space. This bit focused on Keith tapping into the bond with the Red Lion, as I was going to start exploring the Paladin bond (and what the Lions are) in the next Switch story

--

The darkness of Keith's closed eyes grows deeper, like Keith has stepped into something dark and enveloping. Gravity finds him, and Keith settles on his feet. There's cold around his ankles, a river moving in one direction.

He's been here before. This is what it's like to bond with a lion. The water is alive in the way a wild animal is alive. It's unpredictable, unknowable and untamable. At this first level it's mostly safe. The current isn't too strong, the water is shallow. Keith would have to work to be lost here. But to strengthen the bond he has to venture deeper. To be heard he needs to be deeper. 

Keith walks slowly, testing his steps before he commits his weight. He runs through the training in his mind.

The first layer of the bond is simple. It's basic awareness. He can command his Lion from here, but it's basically like treating it like any other ship. There's nothing special here, but it is the first step in becoming a Paladin. Allura has guided them here several times before. Keith glances down at his hands-- he can see the strings that represent the other Paladins tied around his wrists. They never tangle, and they don't get dragged along in the water. They float off into the darkness, to some unknowable destination. Keith isn't sure how it connects them all, but he knows the deeper they go, even when they form Voltron, he can feel the others like an echo in his bones. 

Keith finds his way to the gate. The second level, to go deeper into the bond, lays ahead. He rarely taps into this-- only in the midst of battle when they need to form Voltron or he needs his Lion to respond to him in ways no ship can.

The gate is made of stairs, almost invisible in the dark and under the flow of chilled water. Keith stands on the edge. He can remember standing on this precipice all those weeks ago, the first time they formed Voltron, when the bonds on his wrist had dragged him down and into the dark. 

"Hey!" He calls, "can you hear me? I need help!"

He waits, and waits, and there is no response. The water is freezing, even through his armor. Keith can see his breath when he exhales.

"Okay," he decides, "I'm coming in." 

Keith walks down the stairs.

#the love it takes series #switch the beat series #tomorrow i'll switch the beat series #wip #ty!!!

[schwender-exe]

Devlog #2

Hello all again and welcome to devlog #2!

First up, we have tiles! While not the final look of them (to be honest I drafted them up to try them out, but I kinda dig the simplistic look?) they'll be what's making up the terrain in the game! After playing around with it for some time, I found it a hell of a lot easier to map out levels/rooms with these tiles than the old system I had in place.

Originally, what made up the terrain was Polygon2Ds with collision added on top of them and while it was easy to use, it made the terrain a bit to one-toned for my liking and made plotting out levels a bit of a nightmare because I could do any shape or angle or whatever with it, which sounds nice but... well a bit too much freedom can kill my creativity which is why the limitations of the tiles feels like the right balance.

Moving on to what's next: the curse I wrought upon myself. To be more specific? The story vs gameplay and my failure to plan ahead.

I'm not one to plan things out much, I tend to just go with the flow and address problems as they come into view, but that's been biting me in the ass for a bit now. You see, I sent out a test build about a month ago to some dev friends and I got some feedback which has stuck with me. "You need something in between when you arrive at Chloe's abode and when you meet Chloe." (Chloe being the mushroom-headed character). The reason it stuck with me is because I realized, while I had a story, I didn't really have much in terms of gameplay to smoothly fill in the beats in between. The problem with trying to shove gameplay into a story which didn't account for that, well... You can imagine it didn't go well. So here's my new plan. I'm scrapping the story I have so far and will be re-writing it with new gameplay in mind that'll hopefully flow together well. What kind of gameplay? well that's a tough call. I've been juggling ideas around in my head for weeks and none seem to stick, so far I've managed to get a swimming/floating kind of movement in game which seems fun, but I'll have to tinker around with it more before I can say it 'fits' anywhere. If anything, it was at least a fun exercise in the new state-based character controller I've made this time around for the player.

Well what about combat? That's always an easy one, well... I've shied away from that for some time as I thought combat would move the game in a direction of becoming like most other platformers out there where slapping in combat is a simple solve-it-all glue you can put anywhere. If I'm going to add in combat, I want it to be interesting, unique and of course, fun. I'll be experimenting with more movement options, possibility of combat, the use of items, etc. and will be sure to update next blog post with what I achieve.

Moving on from that, I've also been experimenting with dialogue! I've added on to my dialogue code and have added dialogue portraits which, I'm not sure how I feel about as of yet, honestly. I don't think I have enough to base my opinion on whether I'll keep it or not as I like having the dynamic poses of the overworld sprites. I might have it as a toggleable feature in future as to give players the option to view the overworld sprites or the visual novel-esq sprites.

I hope this devlog was an interesting read, I know I didn't seemingly make much in terms of progress, but with the circumstances I'm in it's been a bit of a bottleneck in productivity. I hope next devlog I'll be in a better spot to provide more to show.

#gamedev #godot engine #pixelart #pixel aesthetic #pixel #art #indiedev #gaming #artists on tumblr #devlog

[havecourage-darling]

Right Side Up // 1

Princess Peach Series

|| Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter two: If I only could >>

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Henderson!Reader

wc: ~5.8k

warnings: cursing, mild smut, S4 spoilers, angst with a happy ending

A/N: Hello everyone! So, here she iiiiis - I've had a lot of people ask if I'd be writing a S4 follow along and ta-da! (There should be 6 chapters total.) I'm keeping it in the Princess Peach world, meaning the reader is a Henderson. If you have not read any of the other installments in this series, I personally think you'd still enjoy this but you might be a little confused. Being totally up front, this is absolutely a fix-it fic, Eddie did not die and I have no idea what you're talking about canon, okay cool. Now that we're all on the same paaage...

Chapter One: If I only could

“Are you the prettiest baby in the whole world?” You asked the wide brown-eyed stare focused on you. “Who’s the bestest boy? Oh, yes, it’s you!”

“If you keep that up, I’m going to get jealous,” Eddie said from his trailer door. You ignored him and Frank – Eddie’s neighbor’s dog who stayed over occasionally – went belly up. His muzzle was now littered with white hair but his waggling tail and endearingly excited pants made your heart melt.

“Oh, you’re so handsome, what a good boy,” you cooed, fingers scratching at his pink stomach. One of his little legs twitched happily as your nails caught the right spot.

Eddie’s mouth twisted into something achingly familiar and his eyes glinted. “That’s what you say to me when you lick my-”

“Edward!”

A flash of your events this morning crossed your mind and Eddie smirked. “And I’m the pervert?” He said knowingly.

You shot him a glare, one that he knew you meant: behave.

Eddie’s laughter floated over to you and you rolled your eyes, pulling Frank into your lap. You laid down, sprawled onto a blanket that you kept in Eddie’s van, and bathed in the first warm sunny day in a while. The wind still had a bite to it at night but the afternoon sun was just enough to lull you into a nap.

“So,” Eddie said, settling down next to you, with two glasses of water. You gratefully took one and drank half in one go. “Spring break is soon.”

And it couldn’t come soon enough. You’d been swamped with papers and last-minute homework assignments for the entire week. Submitting your last paper tonight would be the last thing you’d have to do before being blissfully worry free for the entire week to come.

“Thank God,” you muttered, “I don’t want to look at a goddamn economics book again.”

No matter how much Sienna promised you that you’d eventually get it – econ was something dragged up from the seventh layer of hell.

“Spring break is only a week sweetheart. You’ve still got half a semester to go.”

“Never. Again,” you said, pushing out your bottom lip. As predicted, Eddie swooped in and kissed you. Smiling into it, he kissed you once more before leaning back. His hand came down to rub Frank’s velvety ear.

“So, how about we go somewhere for our anniversary?”

“This far in advance?” You asked, looking up at him and shrugging. “I guess we could make reservations for September now.”

“What?” Eddie blinked at you, confused. “Our six-month anniversary, Peach.”

The warm breeze hit the trees behind you, the leaves creating a glittering cascade of sunbeams as they shook. Eddie’s hair fluttered over his shoulders and you got the urge to curl a finger around a strand.

“Next week?” You asked, attention coming back to him. “Do you want to do something special?”

“Well, you just seem so excited,” Eddie said, pretending to be hurt.

Laughing, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek in mock apology. “I’m so sorry, wonderful boyfriend of mine, of course I’d like to do something with you.”

“That sounded better but you could still work on the delivery,” Eddie retorted, “it sounded a little sarcastic.”

Raising a brow, Eddie tried to fight his smile but you saw it anyway. “What are we doing?”

“More like where are we going?”

Perking up, you placed Frank onto the ground between you and crossed your legs. “Eddie.”

“Princess,” he said, his goddamn smug smile making your stomach flip in excitement.

Plucking some of the blades of grass from the ground you chucked them at him. “Where are we going?”

Eddie shot you a look as he pulled them out of his hair. “Gareth’s uncle has a cabin in the woods a few towns over, by that big lake,” Eddie snapped his fingers as if he’d forgotten the name.

“Lake Monroe?” You squeaked, having always wanted to go there. Nancy and Mike had gone like four summers ago and it was beautiful. She swore you’d love it, the hiking trails looked amazing.

“That’s the one,” Eddie smiled at your excited bounces, “his uncle is loaded and has some big house by the lake. It’s got like three floors and a pool.”

Holy shit, you don’t think you’d ever been in a house that big.

“Eddie, don’t mess with me,” you said, pressing your hands together.

“I would never sweetheart,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “Gareth says he’s in Europe or something for work. I already talked to Keith and for a very humble exchange he agreed to give you Sunday through Thursday off.”

What? Eddie had talked to Keith for you? Shit – sometimes even you were afraid of Keith and you were probably his favorite. Well…his least hated.

“You braved Keith for me?” You asked, touched.

Eddie snorted. “Once I showed him how much I was willing to bargain for, he accepted pretty easily,” he said.

“Still,” you insisted, he’d been planning this for some time if everything seemed set in stone. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“What can I say?” Eddie said, buffing his nails and grinning at you. “I’ll do anything for my warrior princess.”

“My hero,” you swooned, throwing your arms around him and squeaking when he fell onto his back, “if this is what you’re planning for six months, what’s a year going to look like?”

“I’ll get you a flight to the moon,” Eddie joked. “Fleetwood Mac will be there with some pizza ready for a private concert.”

“Would we be alone?” You asked, realizing you weren’t sure if any of your friends were invited.

“On the moon? I’d hope so.”

You smacked his shoulder. “At the lake, dork.”

Eddie’s brows wiggled. “Can’t wait to have your way with me huh? Don’t worry, the house is on directly on the lake and the nearest neighbors are like three miles down the road. You can scream all you want and no one will hear us,” he said, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, pinching his side.

He jumped and shot you a glare. “Why is it always violence with you?”

“You love it,” you said, squeezing his shoulder three times – the words left unsaid. Eddie’s playful glare softened into something familiar, something he’d shown you since the first month you’d started dating. Sometimes you thought you’d explode with how much you loved him. The way your heart sped up when you were with him was ridiculous and probably unhealthy.

Eddie’s eyes trailed down your face, his hand coming up from your waist to cradle your cheek. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and you nipped at the pad. His eyes darkened and you saw the words reflected back at you. Heart singing, you let him pull you down into a slow kiss.

“Yeah,” he said, lips tracing what he couldn’t say onto your skin, “I do.”

This was the first and last time you offered to swap early morning shifts with Keith. You groaned as you started sorting through the returns.

“Remind me why we said yes to a Thursday morning shift?” You called out to Steve, who was half asleep next to the computer.

Well, you knew Keith had you where he wanted you – at his beck and call until your last shift on Saturday. He’d been sure to let you know he’d graciously allowed the time off on short notice because of your strong work ethic. Robin had laughed so hard he’d heard from his office.

“Because we’re money hungry, Keith sucks, and Robin has school,” he groaned, rubbing sleep from one of his eyes. “I will give you all the money from my next paycheck if you go across the street and get us coffees.”

You snorted so hard you almost choked. “Tough sell Harrington. You’re closer to the door.”

“You’re the better person,” Steve huffed.

“I am,” you agreed, laughing when he shot you a look. “Uh, Steve?”

“What?” He said, voice muffled as he hid his face into his elbow.

“Is that cheerleader walking towards us Chrissy Cunningham or am I hallucinating without the caffeine in my bloodstream?”

Steve sat up, squinted, and turned towards the windows. “Oh shit, it is.”

“Fuck, do you see Carver around? He’s just like fucking Tommy,” you hissed, hating the little spark of panic you felt in your stomach. It was too early to start a fight.

“No, she’s alone, oh shit – she’s really coming this way,” Steve said scrambling up and trying to look like you both weren’t just gawking at her.

The bell above the door rang as she pushed it open, a bright smile erupting on her face. Her eyes were wide and you couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Hi,” you said stupidly.

“Hi! Good morning!” She grinned, waving at a stunned Steve. You kicked him under the counter and he grunted.

“Hey,” he said. You shot him a look – smooth, Harrington.

“Can I help you find something?” You asked, a little thrown by her sunshine energy. Something…felt off about her. Trying your best to look nonchalant, you took in her jittering leg and wringing hands.

Chrissy’s face turned a fascinating beet red and you glanced at Steve who shrugged. “Um, I was actually looking for Eddie,” she mumbled, eyes widening even further.

“Oh,” you blinked, “well, um, he’s not here? He’s probably just waking up to be honest. He doesn’t really hang around here during the mornings. I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon.”

Her eyes shifted and you felt a surge of possessiveness.

“He’s my boyfriend so, if you’re here to set up some prank I can assure you that I won’t take kindly to it. I’m not someone you want to piss off either.” You felt Steve come up behind you, his foot nudging yours.

Chrissy’s eyes jerked up to yours and she shook her head earnestly. “I wouldn’t do that, I swear!” She turned her eyes to Steve and he nudged you again. “Really, I promise.”

And for some reason – you believed her.

“Oh, well, he’s um…not here,” you finished lamely. Chrissy scuffed her shoe on the carpet and you winced as an awkward silence settled. Steve cleared his throat after a beat and Chrissy jumped as if she’d been poked. Why did she look so spooked? You glanced at the doors, looking for anyone waiting for her. If you hadn’t been so thrown off, you’d say she looked…scared.

Her eyes darted around the store nervously. “He talks about you a lot, you know? I’ve seen you at the movies with him. You both make a cute couple,” she said, expression shifting to something soft.

“Oh,” you said, scratching at the back of your neck, “thank you.” What the hell did you say to something like that?

She leaned in closely, eyes anxiously on Steve. “I’m, um, looking to buy,” she whispered. You bit back a laugh, not wanting to come off rude but you doubted that Chrissy knew how to even roll a joint. Shit, you barely knew how to roll one.

“I don’t help Eddie out with that side of his business,” you said and you didn’t. Eddie was trying to save up as much as he could for a new apartment, one you had an inkling he was going to ask you to move into eventually. Which, was probably why he was taking so long to save.

You knew he felt embarrassed at being known as the local drug dealer no matter how many times you assured him otherwise. He was waiting for graduation to find a better job - you thought he’d like the record store downtown. Either way, Eddie rarely let you come with him to deliver and even less to stock up again.

“He actually had a gig a town over so that’s probably why you haven’t seen him,” you said. “I’ll tell him to keep an eye out for you. He’ll bring you what he has tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, looking desperate and relieved. With another curious glance, you realized that she actually screamed of exhaustion, like she hadn’t slept in weeks.  

“Are you okay?” You asked her, throwing it out there. Chrissy looked startled and she, once again, looked nervously around the store.

“Yeah, totally, I just really need something,” she said, cheeks pink. “Thank you for helping.”

Before you could say anything else, she all but ran out the doors.

“Well, that was weird,” you said after a beat of silence.

Steve laughed, dropping his head back into his arms. “Everyone gets stressed in the last final months before graduation,” he said, eyes closing, “you almost choked me out when I spilled my soda over your textbook.”

“I had a final the next day!”

“I barely got the cover wet!” He retorted.

You rolled your eyes and chucked a paperclip at his head. “The cover is important too!”

The man in question barged in a few hours later, five minutes before your shift ended.

“Lady Henderson,” he called out, smile wide and eyes bright. You grinned, shifting your body towards him and taking in his outfit. He’d worn his favorite black Metallica t-shirt – the one with the tear in the collar - and your smile widened when the memory of Eddie ripping it as he tore it off you a few weeks ago flashed across your memory.

The mischievous glint in his eyes as he kissed your cheek said he knew what you were thinking of.

“Hello,” you said, grabbing his chin and kissing him properly. He made a happy noise that you wanted to sink into and almost jumped when Steve’s groan echoed in the empty store.

“Every time! Do you need to rub salt into the wound guys?” Steve said, huffing. He’d been conned by Robin into staying with her until closing and was cranky about it. Robin, however, looked like she’d won a gold medal.

“Hey Munson,” Robin said, coming out the back with a stack of tapes.

“Lady Buckley,” he greeted, bowing.

Without preamble, you’d grabbed your bag and sweater, already ducking under the counter. “See you guys on Saturday!” You called out, not having a shift tomorrow since you normally had class.

This time, however, Eddie wanted to take you to your favorite Italian restaurant two towns over to celebrate the beginning of spring break and your road trip up. He’d made the reservations earlier yesterday and you could practically taste the garlic bread already.

Intertwining his fingers with yours, Eddie brought your hand up to his lips. “I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” you said, pushing the door open and pulling him towards his van. “Did you tell Wayne about our trip?”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes and flushing a little. “He loaned me his duffel to take with me.”

“That’s nice?” You said, not sure why he was turning red.

“He’d packed about a month’s worth of condoms,” Eddie said, huffing.

You froze, stopping in front of the van. His eyes were firmly on the door in front of you and you threw your head back in laughter.

“I don’t know why you find this so funny. It’s weird when your family knows you’ve having sex,” Eddie grumbled, opening your door for you and herding you in. You were still chuckling when he hopped in on the other side. “Princess, please.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, hiding behind your hand. “It’s just – so funny how much you hate it.”

“I’m glad my pain brings you pleasure,” he said, smiling. Eddie threw the van into reverse and pulled out the parking lot. The radio blared to life, surprising you, and you turned the volume down a little.

“You know, considering how much you can’t keep it in your pants we’ll probably go through them before we’re back,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him, never one to skip the chance to tease him, “especially considering the bathing suit I’m bringing with me.”

Eddie groaned and you knew that he was picturing you in the suit you’d shown him earlier in the week.

“I remember being worried that if I didn’t tie it hard enough the top slips off,” you said, tapping your chin, “since we’ll be alone it doesn’t seem like that’ll be problem. Right, sweetheart?”

“Princess, I’m driving,” he said, shifting himself.

“You’re too easy,” you smiled, tucking a leg under you.

Shooting you a glare, he sighed. “What movie did you get for us this time?” He asked, voice still a little strained.

“Since your pick last week was horrible, I went for a classic.”

“Not Splash again,” Eddie sighed.

“Hey, it’s dealer’s choice – no complaining! I sat through a Nightmare on Elm Street for you.”

“At least let me grab some beer so I can get through it,” he said.

“Deal,” you said, bumping his fist.

After a pitstop for beer and pizza, you were snuggled into the sofa in a pair of shorts and Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt within the hour. Pressing play, you watched as Tom Hanks followed Daryl Hannah.

“You know, The Breakfast Club wasn’t as bad as this – and that’s saying something,” Eddie complained, dropping into the couch next to you.

“Ah, ah, no commentary please. Besides, you like romantic comedies!” You said as Eddie pulled your legs onto his lap.

Eddie shot you a look. “I am a man of many genres-” you snorted and he ignored you, “- I simply don’t like this one.”

“Well tough luck,” you said, sinking further into the cushions. You could feel Eddie’s eyes on you as Daryl observed the televisions curiously. “You’re not watching the movie.”

“You’re more interesting,” he said, “did you know that you mouth along to some of the lines?”

“I do not,” you huffed, poking him with your foot. His hand caught your ankle, his fingers dancing across the delicate skin making you tense up. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, innocently glancing up at you.

Yeah, okay, you snorted. “We’re not even halfway through the movie,” you groaned. Eddie’s hand drifted higher towards your bare thigh. “Eddie.”

“Hmm?” He said, pressing a kiss to your knee. A jolt of electricity that always hit you whenever Eddie was around shot through you.

You resisted for a few more minutes, his lips traveling up to your shoulder. While your attention had been slipping, you’d only closed your eyes when he bit down onto the sensitive patch of skin at the base of your neck. “I hate you,” you breathed, your voice hitching when he nudged you onto your back.

“Sure seems like it,” he teased, hair curtaining around you. Legs falling open, as if by habit, Eddie grinned as he settled between them. “Absolutely loathe me, do you?”

“You’re unbearable, you know that? Next week I’m seducing you two seconds into your movie.”

Eddie chuckled into your skin, the rumble of his chest travelling into your own. “Feel free to feel me up whenever you want, princess. I promise you; I won’t fight it.”

“Shut up,” you said, patience snapping. Lifting your hips to press against his, he hissed at the pressure. Before he could say something smug and full of himself, you fisted his hair and brought him down to you. Lips clashing together, you wrapped your legs around his hips and kept him close. Swallowing one of his groans, you tugged on his hair lightly and Eddie froze.

“I feel like the situation has managed to run away from me,” he panted, jumping when you palmed him through his pajamas. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that this is going to end before the fun really begins.”

Huffing a laugh, you let your hand drift up higher to his side and Eddie’s eyes screwed shut as you bit down onto his neck. “Your sorcery won’t get the best of me,” he said shakily.

“Won’t it?” You smirked, lapping at bite. With a grunt, Eddie managed to capture both your wrists and press them above your head. He grinned, stupidly excited to have caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Keeping your arms up, despite his loose hold, you let him take the upper hand.

Daryl, on the television, cried and you caught a flash of blonde that reminded you of something.

"Oh,” you said, Chrissy’s face swimming to the front of your mind. “Cunningham was looking for you." You squirmed as he sucked what would no doubt be a very visible hickey onto your neck.

“Who?” Eddie asked, uninterested, as he focused on nipping your skin. He dropped your wrists to ruck your shirt up above your chest. His hand quickly unhooked your bra, pulling it up, and his warm hand had your breath hitching as he trailed light touches across your bare skin.

“Cheerleader,” you breathed when he licked at the valley between your breasts, hands kneading your skin.

“There’s a lot of them.”

You sighed as his teeth scraped across a particularly sensitive spot. “Blonde, short, bubbly.”

Eddie huffed, breath fanning over your skin and your skin erupted in goosebumps. “Princess, that’s half the squad.”

You sighed, pulling back from his grasp. “She’s Jason’s girlfriend? I think.”

“Sure?” He said, "I'm trying to seduce you over here and you're talking about cheerleaders."

“Don't worry sweetheart, Jason's not my type,” you joked.

Eddie nipped at the swell of your breast in retaliation. "Please don't say another dude's name while we're naked together. I'm sensitive."

"Bossy, bossy," you said, shoving him over so that you were on top. Eddie's arms came to rest behind the back of his head and he grinned at the view. You trailed a hand down his chest, stilling above his buckle. "Look, just..."

Sensing your shifting mood, he propped himself up on his arms and ducked to catch your eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

“She looked desperate, scared? I don't know," you said, trying to remember her expression. "Just - could you make sure she is…okay? Before selling her anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a look,” he assured you, "don't worry."

“Yeah? Thank you," you kissed him, relishing in his immediate reciprocation.

“Can I go back to what I was doing now?” He asked, eyes dropping back to your chest.

Pretending to consider the situation for a beat, you nodded. “Proceed.” Without waiting, you laughed when he surged up and suctioned himself to you.

“Hold on, let me take this off,” you said, starting to pull his shirt over your head.

Eddie’s hand on yours made you go still. “Wait, can you keep it on?” He asked, pupils blown.

You glanced down at his club t-shirt and grinned. “You want to remember this every time you wear it, don’t you?”

“Am I that easy to read?” He asked, shameless.

Kissing him deeply, you smiled into it. “To me? Yeah.” You pulled your bra out from the sleeves and tossed it onto the floor.  

Eddie grinned, ecstatic at your answer, and leaned over the back of the couch to break open the new box of condoms. You let out a surprised burst of laughter and Eddie quirked his brow. “Wanna share with the class?”

“Nothing, just that – Wayne’s gift is being useful already.”

He froze. “Henderson, definitely don’t mention my uncle’s name when I’ve got a condom in my hand,” he groaned, shaking his head, “that’s worse than the first one.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed, not sounding even remotely sorry. Eddie growled, flipping you back over. Out of breath, and astounded that neither of you had tumbled off the sofa, you caught sight of the time. “Hey, it’s officially Friday.”

“Two more days until we’re on the road,” he said, kissing you, “and out of this fucking cursed town, even if it’s just for five days.”

“Gosh,” you said, voice bright, “I wonder what we’ll do for five days? All alone…in a cabin in the woods…”

“I’m sure we’ll entertain ourselves somehow,” Eddie said, hands inching towards the seam between your thighs.

You gasped, heart fluttering when he smiled. “I’m sure we will.”

“Are you wearing the shirt I had on last night?” You asked, squinting against the sun streaming into his trailer and sipped your coffee.

Eddie glanced down at his chest and smiled. “Guess I am.” He flipped the pancake and slid it onto your overflowing plate. Sleep clung to both of you, making everything fuzzy.

“Why do I feel like that wasn’t an accident?” You asked, drowning your fluffy pile in syrup. “At least wash it first.”

“I resent the implication,” he said, grasping at his imaginary pearls. “How dare you even imply that-”

“-I mean it’s a miracle if that didn’t get dirty after what you did.”

“We did, you mean?” He said, waggling his brows. “I surprise even myself sometimes.”

“Oh, so humble too,” you grinned, giving him a sugary kiss when he bent over your shoulder for one.

“You’re the one who screamed so loud I thought Max’s mom was going to come over and ask if we were okay,” he teased, “was that a new record?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, hiding your smile behind your mug. You hadn’t been able to walk straight last night and Eddie was being unbearable about it.

Eddie smirked, humming as he placed the pan in the sink. He sank into the seat next to you, curling his ankle around yours. The vinyl table rocked a little when either of you placed your elbows onto it and the sounds of the trailer park waking up snuck its way into your peaceful quiet but to you, these mornings were perfect.

“Hey,” you said, curving your fingers over his wrist. “Do you mind dropping me off before you go in?” You usually slept in and drove yourself home on movie nights.

“Sure,” he said, chewing on a bite, “I can pick you up at eight? The campaign should be done by six. That way we’ll have enough time to make it to the restaurant.”

“I got a new outfit for tonight,” you said, licking a drop of syrup that had trailed down to your wrist, feeling his eyes on you,“I think you’ll like it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes darkened and you smirked. “What color is it? How short?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said, licking the tip of your fork clean.

Without much warning, Eddie grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards his room. You stumbled, taken by surprise, hand reaching for your half-full mug. “Eddie, wait – my coffee’s going to get cold!”

“I’ll brew you a new pot,” he said, pushing you down onto the bed. You bounced once before you watched him rip his pajamas off. “We’ve got thirty minutes before we have to get out of here. Good news? I’m only half dressed.”

“Oh, but I’m the insatiable one,” you snorted, already wiggling out of your shorts.

“It’s that spell of yours,” he said, chasing your lips, “it’s too strong, warrior princess.”

Laughing, you gave into his nudging and wrapped your legs around his waist. “It won’t fall or falter, you know. I make sure it’s ready to weather whatever comes. You’re mine, remember?”

A genuine, small, smile grew on Eddie’s face, the heat in his eyes softening to something deeper – something dear to you.

“Yeah, I remember.”

It had felt like Eddie had just dropped you off home when the phone rang. Sprawled on your bed, you groaned. Crawling towards your night stand, you barely managed to grab the receiver before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” You huffed, a little out of breath.

“Mrs. Henderson?” A familiar stern voice called out.

You straightened, eyes widening. “Yes?” You said, clearing your throat to try and imitate your mother’s. “Who is calling?”

“We’re calling from Hawkins High. This is the front office and I’m calling because your son has requested he speak to you urgently.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Hello?”

“What the fuck?” You hissed. “A little warning would be nice. What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing!” He squeaked. “Please, please, please-”

You groaned. “No, Dustin, I had a long night and today’s the first day of spring break. I was going to nap. I haven’t slept more than three hours in a week.”

“Have I ever told you how you’re my favorite? Of all time?”

“Ugh, Dustin.”

“I swear, I’ll owe you for the rest of the year.”

“What? What do you want?”

“I forgot my midterm paper for English on my desk.”

“You want me to bring it to you?”

“Preferably within the next two hours. It’s my last class of the day and like worth half of my grade!”

“Dustin,” you whined, not wanting to move.

“Please?”

“Fine,” you hissed, knowing there’s no way you wouldn’t have done it anyway. “You owe me.”

“Holy shit, thank you!”

“Language!”

And that’s how you found yourself back at Hawkins Highschool, a visitor’s pass stuck to the front of Eddie’s hoodie – that you’d stolen – looking for your little brother like Gollum following the one ring.

“Jesus, where the fuck is he?” You grumbled, checking the time.

Lunch, you realized. Spinning on your heel, you made your way to the cafeteria. Right as you turned into the hallway, a familiar voice shouted your name.

“Buckley!” You grinned, throwing an arm around her. “Skipping out on lunch?”

“More like late to lunch,” she grumbled, wrapping her arm around your waist. “My calculus teacher gave me a few extra minutes on my midterm.”

“Aced it?”

“Listen, Cs get degrees,” Robin snorted, pushing the swinging doors open into the chaos. “What are you doing here? I thought you took the day off to catch up on sleep.”

“Dustin,” you sighed, “forgot his English paper. I’m thinking of making him cook me breakfast every morning until Christmas.”

“Oh, or do your laundry!”

You gave her a high-five. “I like how you think.”

“I’m gonna grab food – Dustybuns is with your boyfriend by the windows, see you tomorrow?” She said, squeezing your arm once before stumbling off towards the questionable food.

Glancing towards the tables on the left-hand side your eyes met Eddie’s. Confused, he straightened and lit up anyway. Looking to see what had caught his eye, Mike followed his stare. Smiling, he nudged Dustin who scrambled to his feet and jogged over to you.

“Oh my God, you’re the fucking best,” he said, snatching the folder from your hands. “I owe you my life.”

“I was thinking laundry for the rest of the year,” you said, wrapping your arm around his shoulders.

“What?” He screeched; gob smacked. “Don’t you think that’s a little far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he grumbled. Walking over towards their table, you were suddenly intercepted by a wall of muscle. Jason Carver’s patronizing eyes took you both in.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Henderson siblings,” he sneered, quick hands snatching the folder in Dustin’s hands. Your brother squeaked, eyes widening and you sighed. Was there ever going to be an end to this?

Without hesitating, and with speed that would make Max proud, you grabbed the folder back from him. Pushing Dustin a step behind you, you took one towards Jason. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve last seen me, Carver, but if you need a refresher of that sucker punch I gave you before I graduated; I’m happy to do an encore.”

His eyes narrowed and he took another step forward, his chest almost brushing against you. “I don’t remember what you’re referring to, unfortunately,” he hissed.

Eyes flashing, you clenched your hand and Jason’s eyes shifted to them. “You should call your buddy Tommy, see how picking on me and my brother ended up for him,” you said loudly, his friends snorting behind him.

While you hated the confrontation and they’d both taken every opportunity to take jabs at you – you’d learned very early on that you could never roll over. With a swift move forward, Jason flinched minutely but it was enough for you to smirk.

“Catch you later Carver,” you said, grabbing Dustin’s sleeve, and hitting his shoulder with your own as you passed by.

“Holy shit,” Gareth said, eyes wide and excited. “You just almost punched Jason Carver.”

“She just got him to flinch,” Jeff hissed, glancing over at their table. “I forgot how badass you are.”

“I didn’t,” Eddie said, his arms coming to your waist and pulling you firmly into his lap. “Hey warrior princess.”

“Hi,” you said, kissing his temple.

“Ugh, guys, please,” Dustin groaned.

You glared at him and he shrunk. “I suggest you not say anything lest I shred that folder.”

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” Eddie said into your ear. You rolled your eyes and tugged on his shirt.

“I can’t believe you really wore that,” you said.

“It’s the last campaign,” Eddie said, grin mischievous, “what else would I wear?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mike asked, eyes wandering over Eddie’s regular Hellfire shirt.

Eddie snorted and you sighed. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head.

“Still smells like you,” he muttered. You reached beneath your leg to pinch his and he jumped. “Now, now, no need to resort to violence.”

“I’ll show you violence,” you grumbled, leaning into his warmth.

The bell rang, a five-minute warning, and like always, everyone in the cafeteria ignored it.

The basketball team stood, however, and a pair of blue eyes burned a hole into your back.

“I should’ve known, the town Freak and Henderson would shack up together,” Jason said as he passed towards the door. A few of his friends chuckled, shooting you looks.

Jesus Christ did these guys not have anything better to do? You’d forgotten how judgmental this town could be. “Do you just like the sound of your own voice?” You snapped back. “The adults are having a conversation sweetie; remedial math is that way.”

Gareth snorted, water coming out his nose and Jeff pounded his back, eyes riveted.

“You just let you girl handle your battles?” Jason called out, trying to have the last word.  

“Uh, yeah, I make a cute damsel in distress,” he said, batting his eyes and everyone at the table laughed. Jason and company scowled and disappeared through the doors.

“See you tonight?” Eddie asked, kissing the edge of your jaw tenderly. You pecked him once before standing up. “Can’t wait to see the infamous outfit.”

Grinning, you walked towards the side exit. “See you,” you said, and with the eyes you felt watching you why not take a page out of Eddie’s book? You blew him an exaggerated kiss, knowing he’d get your point. Eddie pretended to catch it and tumbled backwards off his seat with excessive force. The table laughed, Dustin pretending to gag, and Eddie dusted his shirt off as he stood. He pretended to put in his pocket and smiled at you.

“Behave, children are present,” Eddie said loudly, a fake bashful expression on his face.

You winked, grinning, and disappeared out door. Dinner tonight couldn’t come fast enough.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson

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A Little Introduction For You/DA RULES!!

Have you ever had an Animaniacs/Pinky and The Brain fic you've always wanted to read? Do you have that one nagging idea that just sticks in your mind and invades your every waking thought? Hi guys!!!! I'm Pinky and you probably know me from my blog @theonethatyaks93. You've probably seen my random Pinky and The Brain and Animaniacs posts floating around here for some time (January of 2023 was when I joined but I've been in the Animaniacs fandom since 2020). But I also write fanfiction for funsies and since the Animaniacs/Pinky and The Brain fandom has slowly been waning, I decided to make a sideblog to accept requests for fanfics!!! This is so the fandom can stay alive and other people can find it too!! I'm a tad bit late to the party, but I hope that you guys enjoy what I have in store! Now below: I've listed some of the rules, restrictions, and information about how-to submit a request here!!

To make a request, all you have to do is drop it into the ask box here on this blog! I do not want fic requests on my main blog!! Thank you!! :) <3

I tried not to set too many rules but here are the main ones(Most of this is taken from my announcement post on my main blog):

There will be absolutely NO 18+ content allowed. There are a ton of fics out there with mature labels that you can find; you don't have to look hard. I do not feel comfortable writing that stuff yet. Don't ask for smut of any kind because you will not get it, I guarantee that. The farthest I want to go is deep kissing (i.e. tongue) but I'm only willing to do that for Pinky and Brain exclusively, since it doesn't seem to bother the fandom that much. I WILL NOT do that stuff for Yakko and Max because it doesn't sit well with me since they are so young. If deeper, more aggressive kissing is involved in Brinky fics, the tag: mildly spicy mice, will be used to indicate this. It won't be in every fic, I promise. :)

NO WARNERCEST REQESTS!!! That will get you promptly banned off of both my blogs for the foreseeable future. I HATE THIS SHIP SO MUCH AND IT'S DISGUSTING!!!! This also ties into the no 18+ content label mentioned earlier. Do not ask for this.

Fic requests may take up to a week or more to complete. It will depend on the ask itself and the story ideas I compile together. I'm very busy with other life things and stresses that it will be difficult to find the time to work on these. I will optimize weekends for fic writing to my best ability, but I will let you guys know if I'm taking a break. When I'm taking a short break, the ask box will be closed temporarily, but it will be re-opened.

Other ships such as Billie x Julia, Wakko x Louie Duck, and Dark Pinky x Future Brain will be accepted if you request them. If these take longer to make, it's going to be because I haven't written for these ideas before and I will need time to make sure everything is done decently. I'm also accepting AU ideas such as gender-swaps (I have a really good idea if y'all want to see a gender-swapped Pinky and Brain) . However, parody ideas will be extremely risky to request since if I haven't seen the material, I can't make the parody and if I have seen it, I might make a whole fic based on it rather than just a simple one-shot. I am also not accepting Wakko's Wish requests until further notice; I have a few pending and I will get to those eventually, thanks for being patient.

If your request takes longer to complete and it's not a parody or a ship I haven't worked with before, it's likely because I am working on a fic for AO3, most likely my one-shots, or a tedious multi-chapter. Don't think I've abandoned your request; I will get to you ASAP after I'm done with whatever project I'm on.

Certain things that are banned from the askbox: mean comments, smut requests, Warnercest, non-Animaniacs/PaTB requests, harassment of other individuals. Certain ships, such as Warnercest and Brain x Julia will not be allowed either due to personal or emotionally scarring reasons.

Last thing: Enjoy it!!! Make requests that are angsty, silly, fluffy, sad, or happy! Think about what you've always wanted to see in a fanfic, or an idea that you would enjoy seeing my take on. Just make sure to follow my rules and boundaries so we can all enjoy this as a fandom.

I'm really excited to see what I can do!!! And I'm also really excited to see all the fun ideas you guys can come up with!!! I'm hoping I can make this fandom proud and maybe inspire others to dive into the realm of writing!! Gather your requests and let's all have some fun!! Narf!!!

-Pinky (theonethatyaks93)

#pinky and the brain #animaniacs #get ur best ideas and get ready!!!! #crossing my fingers that this goes well!! #intro post!!!

[jasminelee324]

GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU!!!!!!

jjk rant

biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

ALERT POSSSIBLE JJK SPOILERS/SPECULATIONS AHEAD!!!!!!!!!

i am nooooot okay. Gege is an actual villain. I have been listening to nothing but deathbed by powfu, some song by Laufey with froyo edits on tiktok (song is Promise, aka "it hurts to be something, it's worse to be nothing with youuuuu), and Mr. Loverman ON REPEAT for THE WHOLLLLLLLLLE MORNING. i HAVENT EVEN HAD MY HEARTBROKEN (recently). FELL ASLEEP AT LIKe 4 am to fluff after the chp spoilers found on tumblr and even awoke to try to write some comforting fluff myself. like fr I don't even fw Gojo that heavy -nananim stans- but this stuff that mangakas are pulling is getting out of freaking hand. the day Yuuji dies I don't want anyone to talk to me bc if I'm not okay right now I have no idea what state I will be in. i have literally been snuggling with my teddies for 1/2 the morning trying not to cry. like seriously eyes were almost getting blurry as I type this and Loverman plays in the background. this is NOT okay. they are fictitious characters so why the actual fudge am I so sad.

and to make matters worse I saw a glimpse of a rumor on tumblr that satorou is dead but there going to put yuuta, who is also apparently dead, in his body to use him as a weapon to fight sukuna who has POSSESSED MEGUMI!!!!!!! And then someone had THE SHEER AUDACITY to create a post with Gojo, Yuuji, and Yuuta smiling on top, and Poor little Megumi curled up in a ball in some domain all by himself. And it read top: "and tell your 'babies' bottom: that I'm your 'baby' too" and after that I had to go to bed bc this is not alright. idk what type of pain Gege is getting off to but this has got to be sick twisted and ILLLEEEEEEEEEGAL. AND MIND YOU I'M NOT EVEN WATCHING THE ANIMEEEEEEEEEEE! Virtually everything Ik ik ik against my will thx to edits and genreal content floating around online and yes ik "the algorithm yada yada" but RIGHT NOW I DO NOT CARE bc this level of international cruelty should not exist. yes ik there are really issues going on and I cry myself to sleep about those other days of the week but rn the wave of grief I'm feeling over all of this screams to be attended to.

literally got a call today and will have to call them back bc if I picked up the phone my voice was gonna sound sore as if I were crying and how THE HEY HEY HEY am I supposed to explain to him that I've been in bed rotting for hours and watching edits of heartbroken lovers that met tragic ends, on the brink of bawling my eyes out over people THAT AREN'T REALLLLL!!! Yeah, I'm in no mood for a psychiatric visit, so yeah no<3

Gege when I Catch you. No bc AOT was one thing. That beach was sad af. but this is a whole other story. in the aot verse there were so. many. characters. There were nations at war, factions, squadrons. they were AT WAR. there were hundreds, thousands, millions, but this is just sick and twisted bc I feel like the jjk storyline is slightly less character dense and so you truly have an opportunity to find a sense of intimacy in the relationships that you have the opportunity of viewing and getting to know and EVERY TIME GEGE BEARS THE DEPTHS OF A CHARACTER'S HEART, WILL, AND SOUL TO THE AUDIENDICE THEY WIND UP DEAD !!!!!! this is no longer ok. call help. SOMEBODY PLS GET HELP. Gege has to be held accountable bc this is getting out of handddddd😭😭😭😭(yes I am aware that I am griping and moaning and that realistically speaking artist reserve every single right to do whatever the heck they want with their art and don't owe anyone ship. A girl is simply in her feelings and will continue to do so until further notice.)

#jjk #jjk nanami #jjk choso #jjk gojo #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #mahito #nobara kugisaki #okkotsu yuuta #gege when i catch you gege #I'm on the brink

[lizardthelizard]

what fan theories are you thinking of for the appreciation week? 👀👀👀

Omg hi <3 <3 <3 Always a pleasure to see you in my inbox, thank you for the ask :)

Okay, okay so.

So far, I have three theories floating around in my mind. I joined the OUAT a little too late to actually see any of them first hand at the time, but they're SO much fun to read up on and explore even long after the show has ended.

Fan theory 1) is that the Blue Fairy was secretly the Big Bad of the show and would be revealed to be the main villain of the series. Or, at the very least, she was more villainous than she appeared to be on the surface. 'Shady Blue' is such a fun fan theory that I still see people talking about now.

I absolutely don't think the writers were secretly plotting for her to be the real villain of the story (though I'm not as well versed with OUAT lore as some others so anyone is welcome to give me evidence to the contrary. (and I know that Keegan Connor Tracy that played Blue joked about it/leaned into it )). However, the 'evidence' in canon that might suggest that Blue was darker than she seems can be...compelling.

Her harshness with Tinker Bell, the fact that Pinocchio becoming real very much had strings attached, the way she treated Nova and Dreamy...there are these little things that make her come across as (for lack of a better word) kind of a bitch.

But there are also more fascinating moments and details that people have brought up before! The fact that she's literally one of the oldest characters on the show. The way that Morraine, when talking with a young Baelfire, describes her as 'an ancient being that rules the night. The original power.' The fact that, when Cora tried to disguise herself as Blue, she was able to convince a young Snow that the Blue Fairy would ever be capable of encouraging murder.

Blue is a weird character. I have a personal vendetta against her (for Pinocchio related reasons) but she does have fascinating potential and if the writers had been able to pull this off, it might have been epic.

Theory 2 is the 'Dr. Whale is the Wizard of Oz' theory. This is a fan theory that I adore, although I haven't spent that much time researching it. Before the Frankenstein reveal, Whale was free real estate. And the Wizard of Oz theory just made so much SENSE imo. It fit the mystery of his character and the overall vibe and it was a hugely fun theory.

It also spawned a whole host of ideas about other characters playing the roles of characters from the Wizard of Oz (I believe I've seen Rumple mentioned as the Cowardly Lion, Graham mentioned as the Tin Man (since he literally has no heart) and Jefferson as the Scarecrow. But I'm sure I've also seen other variations on each character too.

Also, everyone kept joking about him being the 'whale' from Pinocchio but let's not talk about that theory

Theory 3) is about who August W. Booth was, and whether or not he was the Author of the book.

It's a theory that makes sense. He's a writer, he was adding pages to the book, his name (Wayne Booth) is a direct reference to the man that coined the term 'unreliable narrator'. It feels like the writers were purposefully leading fandom towards this conclusion so that the Pinocchio reveal would be even more of a surprise.

Anyway, it's an interesting theory to explore, although it's probably my least favourite on the list here. I think that his Pinocchio backstory has way more to play with and a much better depth of flavour, but the 'author' theory is still intriguing to ponder over.

#this will be in the form of a gifset #HOPEFULLY I'll have the time and motivation to do it because I have IdeasTM for it and it could be really cool #also hi sorry I should have dug around for old blogs and sources for these theories #(maybe I will in the future) #but for now.....enjoy my incessant rambling #ouat #august meta #TECHNICALLY RIGHT?? #asks

[bardofavon]

⏳ and 🧠(for whichever character you prefer) for the writer/fanfic ask game please

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

Okay this answer is going to make me sound insane but it actually only takes me about 2 hours on average to write a 1.7-3k word chapter. The main problem I have though is getting the inspiration to actually sit down for 2 hours and write it. I spend all week thinking over in my head what I want to happen and then I just sit down and it pops out fully formed, but the struggle is if I sit down and nothing pops out I have to wait around until it does. I think the longest it's taken me to write a chapter took me like...6 hours in one sitting??? but the longest time stretch it took me to MOTIVATE myself to write a chapter was that long period last year where I went a couple of months without updating, but I also wasn't actively thinking about it and engaging with it as much. I'm at the point now where because I think about it, talk about it, engage with it, add songs to the playlist, read comments to hype myself up, etc. it's easier to sit down and crank something out because I've already sort of got what's going down floating around in here.

It's ALSO a lot quicker for me to write if I have SOMETHING from the next chapter written, even if it's just a few sentences or part of a scene, because then I have at least some idea of where to go from there so if I write 2k words in one sitting it's usually 1.5k words from the chapter i'm about to post and 500+ words for the next chapter. and then next time i sit down to write i'm finishing that week's chapter and starting the next one. and any time in the meantime that i wake up in the middle of the night and jot down stuff or put things in the notes app in my phone it's just a bonus.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

I'm actually pretty bad at talking about headcanons for some reason??? When someone asks me my brain freezes up but I definitely have them because I supplement my stories with them, it's just kind of an "it comes up when it comes up" kind of thing but I also don't really engage with the fandom or fanworks so I don't really get the osmosis finding and collecting cool headcanons from other people kind of thing either (also i'm a bitch and most of the time when i read a headcanon my brain goes 'yeah we read different books because MY kaz would NEVER' like a total asshole). because i write mostly in an AU things that i pull out of my ass that aren't explicitly mentioned in canon aren't headcanons in my mind, they're just canon to the universe i've created.

i think if i had to say one i would say that the darkling just doesn't listen to music. he has never once considered like...listening to music recreationally. if he is throwing a party and there is music there it is only because socially that is what is expected of him. even if they were in the modern day i can't ever imagine him pulling up spotify and listening to some tunes.

fanfic writer emoji ask

#writing asks #ask meme

[littleonixel]

I may or may not got very bored and wanted write about this au bc I had a lot in mind :]

Context: Purple goes missing for 8 months and is accompanied by another stick and goes in different adventures, situations and other stuff,also Cg becomes worried and has their own adventures

.

.

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Purple one brave adventurer were they,know all over stick city and friends with the color gang, the color gang is also known quite a lot, as they have explored the weirdest part of the world

today Purple wanted to go explore the new caves, or course to find new ores and items, nothing quite compares to a new Vaubell, right? As purple said their goodbye(or more of a see you later) once again, they set off on another adventure

It doesn't really take that long to for purple to come mostly a week or so... A week past, Purple didn't come home, maybe delayed? There was a storm just two days ago, oh well they'll wait once more... Another week went by still no sign of the purple figure, what happened?... They waited and waited, still purple still wasn't back.

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.

As with purple, they may have stumble into a part of a world no one has ever been, they joked it was ghost town, until Purple heard... Walking? More like running,running from something or someone, Purple turned around to see a gray figure with a very long scarf, almost covering the figure's face, they both looked at each other

"hello?" Purple called out to the them, the figure froze where they were, after a few seconds, the figure finally spoke "Hi, w-who are you? Your not s-supose to be here... " the figure faintly said, "well Iaq decided to find a place to stay, but kinda got lost, so here I am i guess?"

"Oh and by the way, what are you doing? You seemed like running from something?"... They said, the figure once again froze, they murmured, so of course purple couldn't make out what the other was saying "I'm sorry, but what?"

All of a sudden the figure suddenly grabbed Purple wrist and pulled or dragged Purple somewhere, it was probably the others home "Okay what the actual fuck is happening" Purple said, the figure turned to him and spoke "It's here, it's coming" Purple was now in literary confuse "Okay what? I have no idea what is happening nor do I know who you are" Purple once again spoke

"*sigh* the names victim, I'm one of the mountain hunters... Or at least the last-" Victim said, "last?" They said "That BEAST killed them, all of them..."After that both sat in silence as night fell, and darkness roamed the sky once more.

Morning arose, both sticks stared at each other, the silence was floating around the air, the silence was awkward, very, very awkward, until purple faked a cough and spoke "Well uh, how long have you lived here?" They asked

"oh... Ever since I've been born, this place wasn't always like this, it was more lush, more colorful and lively, and that thing that calls it self the night walker attack out village, only a few survived the attack, the not so lucky ones were also my parents.So some of the sticks rebuilt and trained, and of course some were getting old and now, as my teammates went off they were...attack, and now I'm the only one left... " Victim let sigh as they ended, and purple felt bad for what the other had lost

The moment was interrupted with a load roar, it sounded so near, and it wasn't any roar but the Night Walker's roar, Victim stood up from where they were, and look at the window to see the Nw(night Walker) just outside "Wait here" Victim said as they took their enchanted sword "WAIT! " purple said "I could help, plus it'll be dangerous on your own" Victim looked at purple before he could open the door "You can't be possibly serious, my team of 5 had died, are you even sure about what your about to do?!" The gray figure said, Purple let out a smirk, "I'm sure, and who couldn't defeat them with this?"

Purple said as they pulled something out of their Inventory "Is that the-" Victim couldn't even finish by their fascination to item or weapon if you prefer, "It sure is! "

Anyways that's the end for our story for part 1 :]

Hope you enjoyed ^-^

Follow of you what to see part 2 lol

Anyways see you all next time! Bye!

#ava #animator vs animations #alanbecker #alan becker #avm #animation vs minecraft #animator vs animation #ava purple #ava victim #art #digital art #artist on tumblr #ava au #avm au

[cozcat]

"

(It is not that night, or the next, but she does spend a night with Alessa, before leaving Lisbon. And it isn't as though it is unenjoyable, but it is far from an experience she will go out of her way to repeat, no matter how gentle the hands guiding her own through motions she has no prior idea about. She'd gladly repeat the morning, though, of sunlit sheets and feather-soft kisses and coffee brewed strong enough to make her jittery; she just sometimes wonders if the morning after is worth the effort of the night before.)

But Mary can’t quite go back to her hotel - not yet. Instead, she walks back to the water and stands in the shallows, her feet digging into the cool, damp, sand. And she thinks, of that great yawning absence, of a chasm that was so recently not there at all. It’s suddenly so simple, everything that she was washed away with the tide, and she can’t even bear to miss it, with something else left in its wake. He was there, and He is not, and it’s as clear to her as the rush of the breeze in her hair, as the light of the moon on the water, of the touch of lips against her cheek and softly spoken words." so how does it feel to win?

[author's commentary ask meme]

"I'll do this when I get on my laptop tomorrow," I say, not doing it until 1am because Tumblr didn't keep the +1 notification.

This is an excerpt from how falls the serpent, a fic I published about Mary Malone in November 2020.

I've been fucking levitating about being so goddamned CORRECT for two weeks which is a nice reprieve from bouncing around four stages of grief :|

This fic wound up being a bit of an experiment with the flash-forwards and occasional flashbacks in brackets, and the actual evening in Lisbon as the main body of it. I don't think it is something I'd make a habit of, but I think it worked well for this. Mary's going through a bit of a crisis, so her mind's going to be all over the place. Fic is a fun place to play with writing techniques that you might not use again.

There's a line in an appendix in The Amber Spyglass, in Mary's notes - "tried sex, rather dutifully, like going in for badges in the Guides". (That may not be verbatim but I'm not checking it rn.) When thinking of the Mary in my head, the fact that she is asexual is as core as the fact that she is a lesbian. So, a lot of my own relationship with sex is present when I write Mary, because that tiny - canon! - piece of information resonates something fierce. Also, being gay and being ace are both things that make it a hell of a lot harder to figure out what it is that you're feeling, so both at once, when you want to become a nun and you never need to think about it again? Mary has a whole bunch of reflecting to do, very suddenly.

And then it bounces back to what is, rather than what is to come. She doesn't know that that's what's going to happen with Alessa - she's having a crisis of faith right now, but it's barely a crisis, because it was like a switch flipping. I think I was unconsciously paralleling a lot of the moments we see in Mary's POV, particularly when her soul temporarily floats away from her body, in which she's very grounded in the sensations of reality and what is as she suddenly realises what isn't. I don't remember doing it on purpose.

This fic is also something I all but rewrote - I wrote dust, dust, for all the days of your life about decisions Mary made to lead her to where she needed to be, and so, the moment in Lisbon had to happen in that too. It's interesting looking at them together, actually, as the same scene happens in quite different ways, as well as the aftermath. I always feel like my canon-compliant fics need to gel, but they don't. In this fic, everything is about this moment; in the other, this moment is a turning point, but not the whole story.

Also, do you want to know what's wild? I could never exactly picture Alessa, though I had a mental image of her that stuck. And then the flashback happened in the show and - that's her. That's exactly who I have been trying to picture for TWO GODDAMNED YEARS. What the FUCK Dan and Kahleen you pulled her out of my brain.

#thank u my love this was fun this was VERY fun #myhdm #hdm #mary malone #myfic

[pulchrasilva]

1, 2, 5, 6, and 50! Feel free to answer any or all of them!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Probably i know a place where the pain doesn't reach. I think it's the fic that best captured the exact Essence™️ of what I was going for and a lot of my best fics feature a similar kind of soft reconciliation hurt/comfort i think

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

In order: Angst, Fluff, Polyamory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Compliant

Yep that's extremely accurate. I feel a little called out actually lol. Just realising that all the fics I've written featuring a romantic relationship have been polyships wow

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

I think about this is where i leave you, I'd like someone to ask what actually happened to Romulus after his split himself. It's something that Janus wonders about in the first chapter. I'd like to think that his consciousness still exists somewhere in Thomas's mind, he just doesn't have the role of creativity anymore. He's like a kind of ghost, he has no body, floating around and watching over Janus and the twins. Grieving when they fight, grieving when Janus grieves him. He'd be really happy that Janus managed to make up with the twins I think.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Something Irrevocable never actually says what happened to Rowan (an oc)'s baby cousin. I mentioned that he made a lopsided little teddy bear for his cousin and then after the apocalypse happened we see a purple teddy bear on the side of the road and it's missing an arm. Tbh i don't really have an answer to this but I made myself so sad with that detail so I wanted to do something with it. He's definitely not dead, that would make me too sad. I have an idea for a hypothetical spin-off about Carlton Drake (who was the main villain in the movie but basically irrelevant and kinda pathetic in the fic) which was gonna use his affection for kids as a somewhat-redeeming quality, and I was gonna put Rowan's cousin in there.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Gonna choose 49: What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

You mayy or may not have heard a little about this fic, but I'm currently working on a fic for roleslaying week with the working title "flaredrum mft ftm solidarity fic". It's from Djembe's pov but it's about Youngblood's time at the Bard College pre-canon, her relationship with Noise and her gender. I wouldn't say it explores Djembe, but it does also explore who I like to imagine Djembe is (tbf we don't know much about him yet!) Oh and it's also about how the Bard College is a fucked up toxic environment in sooo many ways.

Here's an extract from the most recent scene I wrote:

You know," Viola said after a few minutes of silence, pointing a chip in his direction. "Sharpe's not wrong." "About what?" "Connections are just another thing to manipulate. People don't really have friends here." Djembe laughed. "So what are you and I then? "Are you kidding?" Viola said, not a trace of a smile on her face. "You're top of the class, all the teachers love you." His smile dropped. "So?" She shrugged. "I need to keep my grades up if I want to become a captain." Djembe felt something shatter.

Made myself real sad with this whole scene tbh

#ask game #roleslaying with roman #sanders sides #venom movies #fanfiction #ask