#fic: fleecy

[sylphidine]

I am very glad that I've never actually stated on AO3 that I would adhere to a consistent posting schedule for any of my works.

That way lies madness, in my humble opinion.

BUT.

I do need to update more often than I do. I've already semi-promised myself that I won't start any more multi-chapter stories until I finish my works in progress.

No matter how much they itch at the back of my brain...

[brahmsthirdracket]

Hello! I recently came across your hughes brothers fics and binge read most of them last night :). Would you be open to writing anything about the time Luke said quinn ripped jack’s braces out of his mouth? (If you’re not taking requests feel free to ignore this!!!)

Luke never feels like eating much before cross-country. He likes it fine - he likes it more than fine actually, at least compared to Jack and Quinn, because it’s one of the few things he’s better at than them - but the thought of slogging it through the mud straight after breakfast makes his stomach roll.

He swirls his spoon around his bowl of cereal instead, trying to corral his Cheerios into a pleasing formation. He’s got a kind of Great Lakes thing going on but he’s eaten Lake Superior and it’s doesn’t really make sense for the milk to be the land and - 

“Time to go, kiddos!”

He swallows Lakes Erie, Michigan, Huron and Ontario, and the surrounding landmass with a grimace, and shuffles into the hall. Jack and Quinn are already sitting on the stairs wearing matching fleecy headbands and looking miserable. 

“It’s cold,” Jack whines. 

“Run faster then,” their mom says, rummaging through her purse. “You’ll soon warm up.” She looks real pretty today, Luke thinks. Like maybe she did her hair extra nice or something. He pulls his headband on and sits on the bottom step, cheek resting on Quinn’s knee, to wait. 

“Jim!” she bellows. “Hurry up! I’m already running late!” 

“For what?” Their dad’s head appears through the basement door, followed by his golf clubs and then the rest of him. “Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“The PTA fall fundraiser,” says his mom, at the same time his dad says, “Golf.” 

“It’s on the calendar,” they both say at the same time. 

“Well, you’ll have to reschedule,” says his mom in that voice that means no arguing. “Boys have a meet in Sunnybrook.” 

“But -” splutters his dad. “I can’t reschedule. I put it on the calendar, like you told me to.” He lowers his voice, pleading. “El, it’s with the guys.”

“It’s okay mom,” says Quinn, standing up to lean over the bannister and pat her shoulder consolingly. “We’ll miss cross-country this one time.” 

“Let me see this,” she growls, and they all trot into the kitchen after her to peer at her Wildflowers of Texas calendar. 

Fall Fundraiser shift 9-12 is written in today’s box in his mom’s neat handwriting, and below that: 

Q, J & L Prep 2 XC 9am (don’t forget headbands!!)

Someone’s drawn a skull next to cross-country, almost- but-not-quite obscuring a tiny and unmistakable golf printed right at the bottom. 

“See?” says his dad, jabbing a finger at it. 

“Well, just go after the race and take the boys with you,” she says, already fishing out her car keys. 

“But - tee time is at nine! Ellen!” 

“It’d better be a quick race then, hadn’t it?”

She kisses each of them, pinching Jack’s scowling face and adjusting Quinn’s headband. Luke turns his face into her fleeting pat on the cheek before she’s out the door in a waft of perfume.

“Run fast and don’t fall in the lake!” she calls ominously over her shoulder, just before the door swings shut behind her. 

Their dad waits for her SUV to pull out of the drive and down the road before he flicks the curtain back into place and motions for them all to huddle in. 

“Come here, rink rats.” He tugs them in close, lowers his voice like he’s about to reveal some top-secret play. “And listen up. This is the plan.”

***

The plan turns out to be the ODR, a bag of pucks and a cheery, “I’ll pick you up in a coupla hours!” before Luke’s even out of the car. 

Jack whoops with happiness the minute he hits the ice, spinning and sending the pucks scattering in every direction. Quinn’s right behind him, thwacking puck after puck into the net. 

“Fuck.” Thwack “Cross.” Thwack “Countryyyyy.” Thwack

“Forever,” Jack sing-songs, sweeping one up onto his stick and slinging it through the air. It bounces off the metal with a twang.

“C’mon Lukey,” he calls, scuffling playfully against Quinn. “Don’t pretend you actually like that shit.”

Luke tries to sulk for a bit, taking his time with his laces. His brothers hadn't even laced them up for him, which, rude. But it’s a perfect November morning, as crisp and perfect as a snowglobe before you turn it upside down. They’ve got the whole rink to themselves. It’s been way too long since they did this: no adults, no cones or drills or gear, just the three of them together, playing hockey. 

“Yeah, well some of us can actually outrun old ladies pushing little dogs in strollers,” he chirps, darting out into the middle. 

Quinn and Jack exchange a look. “Get ‘im,” growls Quinn, with a wolfish grin, lurching towards Luke and trying to hook him in with his stick. Luke squeals, twisting away and rocketing as fast as he can up to the other end of the rink, Jack in hot pursuit. They chase him all over, dodging pucks and their abandoned sticks and gloves, until they’re all wheezing with giggles. Quinn eventually manages to get an arm around his neck from behind and pull them both down and Jack belly-flops on top. 

“One day,” Luke pants from the bottom of the dogpile, trying to knee Quinn in the balls so he’ll let him up and getting a facewash for his troubles, “I’m gonna be bigger and faster than both of you.” 

“But until that day,” Quinn replies, finally rolling off and tugging Luke to his feet, “You can get in goal.” 

They play shinny until they’re hot under their sweatshirts and jerseys, hair sticking to their foreheads and breath coming in short pants, and Luke thinks he’s never had so much fun playing hockey, playing anything. It’s hard though, just as gut-churning as a whole weekend tournament or relentless drills in the basement with his dad. Jack and Quinn never give an inch, never care that he’s smaller and younger when it comes to this, and he loves them for it, because when victory comes, he knows he’s earned it. They push each other just as hard, sometimes too hard Luke thinks, watching Jack cuss and elbow Quinn in the gut as they're scrabbling against the boards. Quinn shoves his face back, and the next minute they’re rolling around on the ice in one of their completely shitty fistfights. 

Luke hovers next to them, glancing around and praying no one he knows from school is about to walk past. 

“Stop. Trying. To. Bite.” pants out Quinn. He’s managed to roll over and pin Jack with his weight, and is trying to push his face away. Jack’s a slippery eel though - especially when he’s an eel on ice - and he seems to be trying to lick Quinn to get him off. Which is not a tactic Luke would use himself, honestly, but whatever works he guesses. It must work, because he manages to sink his teeth into Quinn’s forearm and they’re rolling all over the place, gloves and sticks forgotten - thank God. What happens next is a blur of flying arms and legs (and in Jack’s case teeth, the weirdo), but suddenly Jack lets out a shriek of pain - a real one - and Quinn lets go of him like he’s been burned. 

Jack curls up, one hand over his mouth, and whimpers into his knees. 

“Jack? What’s wrong?” Quinn tries to make him look up, pull his hand down. Jack’s eyes are huge with unshed tears. “Jackie?” Quinn asks again, really worried now.

“Um,” says Luke. He squats down next to Jack and picks up the little piece of metal off the ice. Cradling it in his glove, he holds it out to Jack, who gazes at it for a moment and then promptly socks Quinn square in the jaw. 

***

“Someone’s arm better be hanging off,” growls their father when he pulls up to the curb they’re huddled next to and flings the car door open. Luke wordlessly holds out the braces to him. “The fuck is that?” 

“Jack’s braces,” mumbles Quinn, with a guilty glance at the unhappy figure hunched on the other side of the lot. 

“Jack has braces?” Sometimes Luke thinks he could grow a tail and his dad wouldn’t notice unless it affected his play. Last week he had to check Quinn’s date of birth so he could fill out some paperwork.

“He doesn’t anymore, Dad,” Luke pipes up. 

“Jack! Get over here!” he bellows. He takes the braces from Luke’s hand, holding them up for a better view. “These things just click back into place or what?” Jack stomps over, scowling and sniffing. He won’t even look at Quinn, and when Quinn tries to reach out his hand Jack smacks it away viciously. 

“Fuck off.”

Their dad gets a handful of Jack’s jersey and tries to prise his mouth open like he’s a dog that’s eaten something bad. “Oww", whines Jack, trying to twist out of his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“Open. Up.” Their dad grunts, trying to push the braces back across Jack’s front teeth with one hand, and hold him still with the other. 

“Dad, no! Stop!” Quinn pushes himself between them, trying to protect Jack from being force-fed a mouthful of metal. “You can’t do that! We have to go to the orthodontist.”

“The what?” he pants, temporarily letting go of Jack to turn the metal round, as if the reason he couldn’t fit them back on like Lego was that they were upside down. Jack immediately darts behind Quinn and Luke reaches up to swipe them out of their Dad’s hand. 

“Dad,” he says, more bravely than he feels. “I think you need to call Mom.”

The three of them huddle together on the backseat, trying to stay as quiet and inconspicuous as possible as their dad calls their mom for instruction. Luke finds a packet of half-eaten Reese’s pumpkins, no worse for being frozen and unfrozen a few times and settles in for the long-haul. Jack slumps sideways with his head in Quinn’s lap, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt and allowing Quinn to scratch behind his ear in apology.

She’s ominously silent all the way through the slightly edited version of what happened, not even interrupting to yell at Quinn. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says, after a pause. “You didn’t take your sons to their scheduled sports-activity but instead took yourself to golf and allowed said sons out unsupervised to publicly brawl, causing hundreds of dollars of dental bills?” 

“It was on the calendar! It was on the calendar Ellen!” 

“Well Jim Hughes, all I will say is thank God for Canadian healthcare.”

“They cover braces?” says his dad, perking up. He twists round to waggle his eyebrows at them, all looks like we got away with it.

“Oh no,” she says airily. “I meant for you four, when I’ve finished with you!”

[idlebeks]

Fresh SVSSS Fic Recs

Lotus Seeds by Anonymous

Upon transmigrating into the body of a xianxia antagonist destined to die after being gruesomely tortured, Shen Yuan decides he won't give in to the demands of the System to meekly accept his fate. Instead, he runs away. (WIP)

High Mountain, How I Long by Minimalistless

Shen Qingqiu, after enduring his trial, is placed into Luo Binghe’s custody at Huan Hua Palace.

Tarnished Gold by Prim_the_Amazing

Becoming emperor of the cultivation world will start with a first step as small and basic as becoming Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace. For that, he must steal the position away from the current Head Disciple. Luo Binghe will sabotage, upstage, and completely and utterly best him.

The road to destroying everything and everyone who has ever wronged him, to becoming the highest ruler so that no one will ever have the right to control him ever again - it will start as simply as ruining Gongyi Xiao’s life.

Compared to everything else he’s already done, this should be easy.

-

Luo Binghe brings all his skills of cunning and brutality to bear on Gongyi Xiao, Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace Sect. It… doesn’t go too well for him.

prophets on hold by nex_et_nox

Luo Binghe led the charge in the trial against Shen Qingqiu in < Proud Immortal Demon Way >. By all rights, the concept of a trial shouldn’t even be a glimmer in anyone’s eye until Shen Qingqiu’s blackened lotus has crawled his way out of the hell Shen Qingqiu tossed him in.

So why is Shen Qingqiu wrapped in immortal binding cables and locked away in the Huan Hua Water Prison?! 

[or: Luo Binghe is precisely one (1) year late getting out of the Abyss. This does not put a halt on anyone else's plans.]

Starstruck by Camorra

His phone buzzes again and Shen Yuan scoops it up irritably. It’s another message from DemonHeart. DemonHeart: you seem to be a Luo Binghe fan DemonHeart: we can get you access to him Shen Yuan scowls. PeerlessCucumber: do I look like I was born yesterday? The response is instantaneous. A picture pops up on screen. Shen Yuan vaguely recognizes the woman that plays the drums, still in full stage makeup. Next to her, arm slung around her waist, is a face Shen Yuan would know anywhere. Luo Binghe, giving a wry smile to the camera. DemonHeart: he’s a fan, you know PeerlessCucumber: where exactly would we be meeting

Immortal Lamb Crusader Way by Mikkeneko Shen Yuan finds himself transmigrated into the last video game he played before his death -- the dungeon-delving, cult-building anthro hit game of the year, Immortal Lamb Crusader Way. Much to his dismay he finds himself in the role of the BBEG, the God of Death, He Who Waits -- Shen Qingqiu! Is there any way he can guide the protagonist, Luo Binghe, to level-up and victory without falling victim himself to the Lamb Crusader's blade? And why does he want to pet the Lamb's fleecy head so badly? He's not a furry, okay! He's not!

The Scum Villain's Second Save File by the-night-gods-moon (HelloMyNameIsAlias)

Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua's shroom scheme falls through in a big way, and Shen Yuan is forced to re-transmigrate into another world that revolves around half-demons and messy, convoluted romances. Good thing he's an expert!

Can't we just skip to the end? by chaoticgoodlawyer When it was all said and done, Shen Qingqiu comforted himself that the end of the plot meant that, surely, all major events were out of the way. They were firmly in HEA territory and he could relax a little. Right? Right. A year and a half into his marriage to the protagonist, he cursed himself for a fool when he woke next to a Luo Binghe from ten years in the past. Meanwhile, a recently transmigrated Shen Yuan struggled to retain what little face he had when confronted with an overgrown, disturbingly gorgeous demon lord claiming to be his husband. Which is impossible, because he’s straight, the most hetero heterosexual to exist. System? A little help here?? Series

Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pamShang Qinghua, also known as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, stared flatly at what had once been a field boasting near sect-level Feng Shui alignment, and the drowned, bloated remains of the Sun and Moon Dew Flower cuttings that had sprouted within it. Their plan was now quite literally a wash. If only he could consult Cucumber Bro on how to save Cucumber Bro! But in the absence of Cucumber Bro, he could but rely on the one plot coupon the infamous Peerless Cucumber had ever applauded.

Tongfang by The Feels Whale (miscellea)

Shen Yuan is reincarnated as a cannon fodder character and eventual murder victim in one of the whodunnit arcs in Proud Immortal Demon Way. Things escalate quickly. Or: that one where young Luo Binghe’s career goal is ‘Bride’. --- Shen Yuan shut his eyes as a young man waiting to die in a hospital and opened them again as a wrinkly infant covered in substances best left unimagined. [Welcome to the System! The System is based on the concept ‘YOU CAN YOU UP. NO CAN NO BB.’ We hope to provide you with a rewarding experience. It is our sincere hope that during the course of your adventure, you can achieve your desire to transform a ‘Stupid Novel’ into a high-end and impressive classic. We pray for your happiness,] a mechanical and inflectionless voice announced over the general hubbub of the group of women handling him. Then it added, somewhat more worryingly, [Error.]

In Service by x_los

Emperor Luo Binghe goes looking for a Shen Yuan of his own. The one he finds has yet to fully ripen, but Luo Binghe is used to turning adversity into advantage.

[eflen-n-reegee]

Memories of an Imaginary Friend (An ‘Inside Out’ Regression Fic

On the anniversary of Bing Bong’s passing, Joy regresses to a very young age. Suggested by Anon.

~~~~~~~~

No one else understood; that was the problem. The others hadn’t seen him in years, and even Sadness hadn’t SEEN him… vanish.

(Joy couldn’t quite make herself admit that he had died; he must still exist somewhere, somehow, maybe…)

Maybe that was why she was at the console at four in the morning, trying - desperately - to call up memories of him. They still had to be there, somewhere, in Riley’s mind. They HAD to be; they’d been best friends!

But everything was either faded beyond recognition, or completely unavailable. Nothing was usable. Nothing would jog Riley’s memory.

Nothing would bring Bing Bong back.

When the other emotions came into the console room, they found Joy crying on the floor, surrounded by gray memories. Sadness ran to her side and touched her shoulder, then sat down and pulled Joy onto her lap. “She’s regressed.”

Anger whistled softly. “She’s never been this upset before. What d’ya think happened?”

Fear picked up one of the memory orbs, peering at it closely. “Is that… Bing Bong?”

Sadness gasped in understanding. “Today’s the anniversary of when he…” Her voice trailed off and she hugged the bawling Joy a little tighter. “I knew she’d be upset, but I didn’t think it would hit her so hard.”

Disgust looked over a few of the scattered memories. “He’s in all of them. I think she was trying to make Riley remember.”

Sadness sighed. “Joy, sweetie… Bing Bong can’t come back.”

Joy gave a wordless wail and buried her face in Sadness’s shoulder.

Fear started gathering up the faded memories and sending them back to Long Term. “How long do you think she was out here?”

“Could’ve been hours,” Disgust murmured, pulling out the box of regression gear. “Here, Sadness, let’s wrap her up.”

Sadness gently laid Joy down on the fleecy blanket Disgust had produced and wrapped it tightly around the regressed emotion. Joy was still sobbing, but she didn’t try to fight against the fabric.

Once Joy was swaddled, Anger picked her up and carried her to the couch. “She could probably do with some food,” he said, glancing at Fear.

The emotion nodded. “I’ll get her some peaches, those always cheer her up.”

Anger nodded, gently wiping Joy’s cheek with his thumb. “Hey, squirt,” he cooed softly. “It’s a hard day for you, huh?”

Joy whimpered, curling closer.

“Yeah, I know. He was a pretty good friend, huh? Remember how he used to make the best mud pies?”

Now she nodded, chewing on her finger.

“And he was always around when the night light went out,” Fear continued, sitting down and offering Joy a small chunk of peach. “He never let Riley be alone in the dark.”

Joy accepted the piece of fruit, her tears slowing down.

“He always made her laugh,” Disgust said softly, gently wiping juice from Joy’s chin. “No matter how crabby she was.”

“He loved her,” Sadness added. “And we loved him.”

Joy gave a slow, shuddering sigh as she finally stopped crying. She still wanted him back, still flinched when she thought of him fading away, but…

Maybe the others DID understand. Maybe she wasn’t the only one missing him. 

“Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean WE’VE forgotten,” Sadness said gently.

And Joy nodded, very slightly.

Fear smiled, offering her another peach chunk. Joy opened her mouth eagerly. Anger continued to balance her on his lap, occasionally tickling her neck. Disgust and Sadness went to the console, peeking over their shoulders periodically to make sure things were okay. Everyone was a little bit subdued, a little bit blue, but… that was okay. That just meant it was true.

They hadn’t forgotten.

[clatoera]

Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 11: When You Can't Sleep at Night, You'll Hear My Stolen Lullaby

Heeeey besties. It has been more than a minute. I work eighty hours a week. Please take pity on me. If you are still here, still reading, wow I love you and I thank you deeply.

This chapter doesn't have a strong plot, it is just about my favorite things. Mamas and their babies.

A huge shoutout to @districtonekisses who has had conversations about explicitly stuff in this fic with me again and again, I love you and owe you cashbaria content soon I promise.

As always @kentwells my beloved, has been keeping my clato thoughts FED in my DMs to keep me moving through this shitty work schedule I have.

@bodyelectric77 you just have to get tagged at this point im so sorry.

Anyway!

Title from T-swift My tears ricochet

masterpost

AO3

He does not fit in the space from her knees to her hips anymore. His body can no longer fit comfortably resting on the short length of her thighs, where she could prop up her knees and take the time to memorize the details of her son in the middle of the night. Really, he never fit there to begin with. His legs would be scrunched up, and if he extended them he gave her an impressively strong kick for such a little person.  

Now, though, months and months into his life, Clove could not even pretend that he still fit in her lap.

Her arms, though, oh her arms were another story entirely. 

It was all part of her carefully crafted nightly facade, one she had been orchestrating for the last six months, for the entire duration of her time as a mother. 

It went the same way every night. Cato would hand her the baby in his little hooded bath towel, all wet eyelashes and big blue eyes staring at her as his little baby hands just reached for her almost as quickly as she’d reach back for him. She’d absolutely insist she was just going to get him to sleep, then she’d be back to bed. Yet, every single night she’d end up padding across the short distance from his room to their own with him firmly asleep in her arms. She always insists that it is just simpler if he is with them, because really, where in the whole world could he be safer than between the people who brought him into it.  Cato always knew his part too, when he’d wordlessly just take the baby back from her so she could get into bed. That is exactly where his son would sleep, right there on his chest and in his arms, until hours into the night when the first slight noise he made had Clove pulling him over into her arms. They’d wordlessly, barely even consciously, pass him back and forth throughout the entire duration of the night. Neither mention it. Neither question it. It is their unspoken, unquestioned agreement. 

(Neither want to admit just how scared they are at the thought of him being anywhere but between them)

This is part two of that routine, where Clove and her son sit curled up in the corner of his bedroom, her knees tucked under her as she rocks with him in the oversized (for her, at least) recliner. She’s got him in the crook of her left arm, though her right hand comes around to brush her fingers over his still damp blonde hair on his head, her thumb coming to caress his full little cheek. They share the same fleecy blue blanket that she wraps around her own shoulders and covers her arms in, so that he too is protected from any sting of his first District Two winter that bites outside the window. 

Not that there was any real risk of feeling a winter sting; from the blanket to his mother’s arms to the little blue sleeper the color of his eyes to the well heated house that his father endures for the sake of his mother- he was never going to be cold. 

Cold he is not. Awake, however, he is. 

“You gotta go to sleep, sweetheart, come on..” Clove whispers, though there's a softness in her voice that is reserved for this little boy and this little boy alone.  “You had such a busy day, you have to be sleepy.” 

Busy is a bold descriptor, but he did have an exciting day for a six month old. The first real layer of snow had finally covered the District last night, an uncharacteristically late start in February. Cato had been nothing short of insistent that he got to take the baby out today. Even Clove, who watched from the warmth of the kitchen window, couldn’t look away from the identical smiles of her boys and the sweet baby giggles coming from her son. There was something about the way Cato dipped this baby down into the ground to toe at the snow, and the way he pulled his little feet up in delighted response, that made Clove almost want to brave the cold for them, too. 

Still, the day of discovery did not seem to make a dent in the energy level of Atlas Hadley, who was contently playing with the thin strap of Clove’s shirt, an entire little fist wrapped around the fabric. She shifts, just a little, so that he is less facing into her and more looking up at the rest of the room. She catches one of his hands, and brings it up to her lips to kiss his closed fist, which earns her the biggest, widest smile from the blond boy in her arms. 

And God, when he looks at her with the biggest, widest blue eyes in the world, as if she herself hung the stars in the sky? The only thing she can wonder is how the fuck she deserves him. 

She finds herself humming to him often, and now is no exception. She never full on sings, and she never will, but there's something just..instinctual about how simply it falls from her. She isn’t even sure where she learned it. Normally it works, too. A few minutes of humming and rocking in this chair and he was out, usually with his little cheek pressed flush against her skin. 

It’s always the same song, too, oddly enough. It just flows. She isn’t even sure where she heard it or picked it up from– probably Glimmer– but it does the job. 

Most nights, at least. 

Now, though, she’s still got those sky colored eyes just absolutely staring up at her, like something is so captivating he can’t bear to close his eyes and miss a moment.

“Whatcha looking at? Do you see the snow?” Clove twists her neck to look backwards, trying to glance over her shoulder out the window to see what could possibly be so enticing to her baby. It’s just a dark sky, not even moonlight within frame to have him so entranced.

 When she’s glancing out, beyond what her baby could see, she can see the thick blanket of snow draped over the trees and landscape. It’s involuntary, the chill that goes through her, when she sees the eerie stillness of snow in the darkness. 

She doesn’t mean to stretch out her fingers, rolling them out as if she is trying to keep them mobile and warm. She can’t help but do her best to wrap her little hands around her son, somehow managing to pull him closer as if she herself will be the final defense between him and an icy, frozen arena. 

It’s been what? Five..Six..Seven years since her games? Nearly a decade and that biting cold feeling just cannot leave her. 

“There’s no snow falling, what do you see, my love?” Clove tries again, this time shifting him in her arms so that his head is resting on her chest rather than her arms, hoping to distract him from whatever was keeping him so alert. 

Still, Atlas twists his little face so that he can still see hers, blinking up at her with the same lovey expression as before. She makes a confused face at him, eyebrows pinching together,  but just wraps her arms tighter, holding them both deeper in the warm embrace of their blanket. 

“I can’t blame him, all he wants to see is you.” Cato points out from where he now rests in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over the expanse of his bare chest. “I wouldn’t want to go to sleep either, if my other option was looking at you.” 

“And what are you staring at now, Cato?” Clove teases, letting one hand come to the back of her son’s head and strum rhythmic little circles over his hair. “You know you’re going to distract him..”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just admiring my work is all.” Cato grins, raking his eyes over Clove in the corner of the room, so effortlessly curled up around their only child. 

Clove, who was once a feral little girl with knives hidden in her socks, now just so delightfully different while maintaining everything that made him love her. 

“...your work? You’re admiring your work?” Clove raises a dark eyebrow, though her expression twists into something toeing the line between annoyance and adoration, an expression Cato knows all too well. 

“Hell yeah this is my work.” Cato gestures to the two of them with one hand and the most smug smile on his pretty face. “I did  make all of this happen so…my work.”

“You’re the worst sometimes,” Clove rolls her eyes, but doesn’t stop the rhythmic rocking of her son in her arms. “It’s our work, thank you very much.”

“Some of our best, honestly.” He agrees, but uses the arm that was reaching out to them to gesture back towards himself. “C’mere. I’m lonely across the hall.”

“He isn’t asleep yet..” She sighs, shaking her head lightly. “He’s got a staring problem like his dad.”

“Can’t blame the kid.” He holds out his other arm as he crosses the distance between them. “Hold on to him.”

“What are you-”

He slips one arm under her legs and the other behind her shoulders, “Just hold him. We’re going to bed.” Cato instructs, before he’s got her scooped up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a baby herself. 

“Cato! Be careful!” She shrieked, but curled into his chest as she had done thousands and thousands of times in her life. 

“You act like I’ve ever dropped you.”

_____________________________________________________________

“No mama, no sleepy.” Stella Sanford shakes her little head, blonde ringlet curls brushing over her pajama clad shoulders with every move. Regardless of her pouting, and boy does she know how to tilt her little lips into a pout, she flops into her usual bedtime position with her head on her mother’s right arm. 

“Yes, Stella, you have to go to sleep. You can’t wake up for your birthday if you don’t go to sleep first.” Glimmer tries softly, bringing her arm up to wrap around Stella, twisting her fingers through the ends of her soft baby blonde hair. She’d remain here until Marvel came upstairs, when she’d effortlessly roll right into his arms for the rest of the night. A baby for each of them to hold– well, toddlers now. “And Sissy’s already sleeping, she’s going to get to have her birthday too…”

“No sleepy,” Comes from the muffled voice of Aurelia on her chest, who doesn’t even lift her head to see her mother or her twin sister, instead keeping her face buried in her favorite pink blanket the three of them fell asleep under every night. “Sing song, mama?”

“You already got your sing song, baby.”  She soothes, brushing her hand over the back of her baby soft pajamas, the tips of her fingers tracing the tiniest little shapes on the top of her back. “And your story, and another book, and your kisses..”

“P-eeease, mama?” Stella flutters her long eyelashes at her mother, resting her chin right on her chest next to her twin. “one sing song.”

“One sing song.” Aurelia chimes in, one of her little hands escaping her blankets and coming up to touch her mother’s face gently. “Pease?”

Glimmer audibly sighs, grabbing Aurelia’s little hand and kissing her open palm, using her other hand to pull Stella closer. They’re just her babies, babies who were two years old as of early tomorrow morning, how could she tell them no? 

Especially now, when the days of them holding onto her and sleeping in her arms are slipping away so quickly? 

“What sing song do you want? You can’t have the birthday one until tomorrow-”

“No words sing song.” Aurelia explains, twisting a hundred and eighty degrees in her mother’s arms so that she can face her sister now too. 

“...no words…baby, that's not a song?” Glimmer tries, taking the opportunity  to spread their pink blanket out over the three of them, now equally covering both Stella and Aurelia where they would sleep until Marvel was done with birthday set up. 

“No words sing song!” Stella agrees with an enthusiastic nod, her little nose scrunching up with her smile in an expression she most definitely did not inherit from her mother. “Like this!” 

Glimmer watches with a bemused smile as Stella tries to demonstrate her request, with little furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. It’s adorable, almost to the point that Glimmer forgets her girl is trying to show her something. 

“...oh you want me to hum you a song? That’s not singing, silly girlies.” 

“Hum song.” Stella outright demands this time, resting her little hands on her chin expectantly. “Do the hum song, mama.”

“...the hum song?” Glimmer mumbles, trying to rack through her brain for whatever specific song they mean. There’s the one that comes to mind, though she isn’t sure why or where she learned it. Then again, there aren’t words, it’s only a hummable song. 

“Okay. I’ll do the hum  song, but you gotta cloooose your eyes.” Glimmer instructs, moving her arms intentionally so that they are both individually cradled in an arm, although they are far bigger than the infant babies she brought home in this position two years ago.

 “Goodnight Aurelia-” She starts, leaning down to kiss the top of her far more reserved child’s head, her lips lingering for just a moment as she soaks in the time she gets to share alone with them. “Goodnight Stella..I love you both so so much.” 

“Nigh-nigh mama, loves you” Stella announces contentedly, curling up into her mother’s side dutifully, before peaking one green eye up and over at her sister. “Nigh-nigh sissy.”

“Night-night sissy.” Aurelia declares, wiggling her little pink nails (an early birthday fun day gift from Auntie Cashy) out for Stella’s matching ones (and match Cashmere and Glimmer’s, too of course). “Love mama.”

As she hums to her girls, Glimmer watches closely. She notices how Stella’s hand reaches up to hold on to Aurelia’s, and her heart catches in her throat. She can’t help but remember the very first time she held the two of them together, how her girls who never knew anything but each other, reached only for each other within the first moments of their lives. She was not a twin herself, but there was something otherworldly about the bond between her children, beyond anything she’d ever get to know. Even now, almost two years to the day since they were born, they still fall asleep every night holding each other’s little hands. As it was right now, it was almost always intentional. Just two halves of the same soul, always reaching for the piece that completes them.

Glimmer never takes advantage of how lucky she is to have the children that she does, what a miracle it is that she gets to be their mother. 

She never forgets just how deeply loved her daughters are, by so many people beyond herself, either. 

Now, for example. Her sister and brother were adamantly downstairs helping her husband decorate for the girl’s second birthday, with no fewer than 730 pastel balloons to blow up and intentionally place around the first floor. It is arguably the least sexy, most unromantic way for her sister to spend the eve of Valentine's day, something Cashmere most definitely would point out to her later. Fortunately the seven pm bedtime of the twins meant they would be finished decorating before Cashmere was even due to start her skincare. 

The point being, Cashmere and Gloss didn’t have to be here. These twins are not their children, they have no responsibility to them, and yet here they are. 

Not to forget that Marvel, the sweet sweet man that he is, would most certainly come up with a gift for her. Claiming that, yes it was the girls’ birthday, but it was her who physically birthed them into the world and that she deserved as much recognition as they did. 

There's something remarkable about him as a husband and as a father that almost, just almost, makes her think about risking a boy for just one more child to watch him raise. While she likes to think that she was born to be a mother, it cannot be denied that he wanted those girls just as badly as she did. 

She can physically feel Aurelia fall asleep on top of her, when any tension in her little body just releases at once and she fully gives into the embrace of her mother. Stella never takes long after Aurelia, though it is far more subtle to hear her breathing pattern even out so distinctly.

Two entire years of this being her life, two years of big green eyes staring at her, two years of “mama” in high pitched little voices, two years of little humans who trusted her for everything they could ever need. 

She isn’t sure she’ll ever get used to this being her real life, as if she will ever accept it as anything more than the dream it feels like. 

It’s unbelievable to her, that this is the life she gets to live.That somehow, after everything, she has been granted this chance. It feels beyond a dream to have one daughter who prefers strawberry jelly over grape, or another daughter who cries if her bubbles in her bathtub pop. What a privilege it is to sort little socks embroidered with A’s and S’s, to have two of every set of pajamas and every tutu. 

It’s nothing short of a dream, nothing short of a miracle, that Glimmer even survived long enough to be a mother at all. 

Marvel moves so quietly that she doesn’t even hear him come into the room, and is only alerted to his presence by the shift of the other side of the bed when he sits on their shared bed.

She pauses her mindless humming, glancing up over at him with a soft smile on her face. She notices something speckled on the thin fabric of his white shirt, but pays very little attention to it as he so carefully slides into bed beside her with a well practiced agility that only comes from long dedication to not waking the girls with a shift in the mattress. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” He defends, leaning over oh so carefully to kiss her on the cheek without disturbing the freshly sleeping toddlers in her arms. “Balloons, streamers, and the special birthday plates are set up. Your sister did tell me I’m ruining her valentines day because I said she couldn’t come wake them up to give them their first present. She’ll get over it.”

Glimmer gives him the softest smile as his hands thread under Stella, expertly pulling her to his side of the bed where she would sleep incredibly soundly for the rest of the night . As if to illustrate her thoughts, her baby curled right up against her father, burying her face in the fabric of his shirt. She’s paying such close attention there to his side, that it dawns on her exactly what the speckles on his shirt are. 

She reaches out to grab the white fabric, and the deep maroon blossoming along his side confirms exactly what she suspected. “Are you….bleeding?!” 

“Oh! Yeah! It’s nothing! Just your brother and the staple gun! No harm done!” Marvel brushes off, grabbing the free edge of the pink blanket and dragging it over him too. He offers her a comforting smile, grabbing at her hand. “Hey. Glim. I’m fine. Seriously. Your brother started thinking a bit too much about why we were decorating and how the girls came to be, and you know how he gets! He’s just..protective of you. He’ll get over it one day. Or he won’t, and he’ll try to kill me one day a year every year for the next twenty. Either way, I can take it. And probably deserve it a little.”

“He does not get to hurt you,” Glimmer warns, shaking her head in firm but loving disapproval. “I’m a big girl, and I made my decision. And I would make that choice over and over and over again. And I will remind him of that tomorrow.” She shifts closer, as far as she can without the risk of waking Aurelia in her arms. “They don’t get to act like they’re number one aunt and uncle and then act like that towards you. It’s infuriating” She mumbles, taking the chance to move just a few inches closer, unable to fully close the gap between them. “You don’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay, Glimmer, I can take it. They don’t mean anything by it. Besides…maybe they’re just jealous.”  He does his part to shift closer  too, leaving just enough space between them for the girls to move to. “‘Cause I got two of these,” he gestures to the sleeping twins, pulling Stella up to sleep on his chest, mirroring Aurelia on her mother’s. “And they don’t have any. And I get a you, Glimmer. They can say whatever they want, because really, I won.”

“Yeah, well, my sister doesn’t pay attention to anything but her own reflection, and my brother is her lapdog. I wouldn’t want to be them, either.” 

“Especially not Cashmere, she’s got Enobaria with those teeth-” Marvel jokes, earning him a little nudge from Glimmer. 

“God don’t bring that up, there are some things I don’t need to picture–”

“Hey, that’s just mentally picturing. I have actual proof of the things I've done with their sister.” He teases, pointing between the sleeping blondes in their arms. “We don’t need them to like it. We just need them to help blow up balloons once a year. They like the girls, that’s what matters.”

Glimmer feels like her heart physically hurts in the center of her chest, when she looks up and sees the way he just looks at her with such love and dedication in those blue eyes. Blue eyes she wishes were reflected in one of her daughters, sometimes, if for no other reason than how much she selfishly loves them. “....I love you.”

“I love me, too.” Marvel teases, before catching her face in his hand. “I love you, more than anything. And I’m really glad we accidentally pulled off this two for one special thing, because we have really, really cool kids.” 

And for all the anxiety, the uncertainty, the discomfort, the stress, and the downright fear that came with the time leading up to the birth of her children… she wouldn’t have it any other way. After it all.. she’d go through every single moment all over again if she meant she held her daughters at the end of it. “...they’re the best.” 

“You’re the best.” He promises, finally just slipping his arm around her hips and pulling her closer, damned with keeping space for now. He pauses, and shakes his head for a moment as if he just remembered something. “That song you were humming when I came in..they ask for the no words sing song alllll the time…where the hell did that even come from?”

“Absolutely no idea.”

_______________________________________________

“Good morning.”  Glimmer’s raspy, sleep-addled voice in the doorway would have jolted Clove awake had it not been for the fact she had already been wide awake the majority of the night and into the early morning. She stands in the doorway with hair in two frizzy braids that are passively untwisting and oversized sweatshirt with sleeves that cover her hands, and the way she is rubbing at her eyes with said sleeves make her look nothing short of an oversized toddler coming to her mother for comfort in the middle of the night. 

Except Glimmer is a twenty five year old woman and Clove is not her mother. 

“Can I get in bed?” Glimmer murmurs, though it is nothing more than a formality as she is already pulling up the comforter on the opposite end of the bed from Clove and sliding one leg in. “Ew, this is Cato’s side, I don’t want to lay in these sheets, I know what goes on here-” She scrunches up her nose, but plops her head down on his pillow anyway.

“The sheets are clean-ish. Nothing is going down in this bed for a long fucking time. Fuck, what time is it–” She twists her head to look over at Glimmer, who is making herself plenty comfortable in Clove’s bed. Clove on the other hand is half sitting, half leaning, with her neck just slightly propped up by the pillows. Most importantly is her baby, all of five (six, now) days old, scrunched up on her chest, but incredibly safe and protected in the arms of his mother. She ceases her humming, some old song she can’t seem to get out of her head, before stifling her own yawn into her son’s hair. “What are you doing here? Did Cato send you to come babysit me?”

“It’s five forty two in the morning. Five forty five is the morning workout start time for you district two psychopaths apparently. Enobaria and Brutus are downstairs with Cato, they’re going down to the basement.” Glimmer stifles a yawn with the edge of the blanket, rolling onto her right side so that she is facing Clove, though her eyes are barely even half open to support her argument that she’s awake. “Huh? No it wasn’t Cato. I’m not even babysitting you per say–just keeping you company while everyone else works out- okay, Enobaria came into my room and pulled me out of bed by my ankle and said I had to come sit with you. Not that I mind!”

“Do they think i’m a fucking baby and can’t watch myself?” Clove snaps, wiggling so that she too is laying flat on her back next to Glimmer. It had been six days– how the hell was she going to do this for eighteen years- and the lack of sleep had gotten to her. It’s not a foreign sensation, they had deprived them of sleep plenty of times during games training and even at the hands of Snow in the capitol…but back then the only person she had to keep alive was herself. Not a whole new needy, helpless human being. “What do they think I'm going to do? Throw him at a target to strengthen my arm?”

“I think they’re more worried about you trying to workout six days after you had a baby come out of you. “ Glimmer explains, stifling yet another yawn into her borrowed pillow. “Not that i’m saying you would-”

“Fuck, Glim, I’m not working out. I can barely walk, it feels like he literally ripped me in half and he might have! I don’t know! I don’t care to find out! I’m pretty sure I'm literally stitched back together!” Clove shakes her head quickly, blinking back the wet feeling in her eyes she doesn’t know whether to attribute to exhaustion or hormonal instability. “...Glimmer everything hurts. It hurts and I can’t do anything and all I do is lay in this bed with this baby and try to pretend that everything is fine but Glimmer it hurts.” 

Glimmer takes the moment to prop herself up on her elbow, recognizing the need to feel more present for her friend. “...of course it hurts, Clove. He’s huge. You are not. It hurts even when they’re little.”

“Yeah, well you had two at the same time, of course that hurt,” Clove insists, but uses the chance to pull her son up closer to her face, where she can continue to place kisses on his head and try to keep him asleep. “It hurts and I can’t tell Cato that because he’ll absolutely freak out or think i’m dramatic or something and I just don’t need that right now-”

“Clove..do you think he doesn’t know? Like he’s dumb but he isn’t that dumb.” Glimmer tries, giving just the slightest eye roll. “He’s constantly worried about you. He texted Marvel seventeen –and I counted– times the day you had the baby telling him he was afraid you were going to die, Clove. He’s stupid but he absolutely can read you like a book.”

“Yeah, well I thought I was dying too, Glimmer!”  She bites back, tension and something else crawling into her tone. “I’ve been in multiple near death experiences, and you know what, it was the only time I had ever actually been scared of it!” 

“But you didn’t! And he’s here and he’s okay and you are okay. You deserve to take care of yourself, too, Clove. I know he’s important and all, but so are you…”

“I am taking care of myself, clearly I'm laying up here in bed all useless while everyone else gets to go actually do something for themselves. And God, Glimmer, this baby wakes up all night and he’s already asleep on me so I just take care of him and I love him and I wouldn’t change a thing but I look at Cato who looks so fucking peaceful and well rested and I want to kill him.” Clove’s breathing and speaking speeds up as she rambles, borderline pushing herself to a meltdown. “I love him. He offers to get up with me, and he does, but he’s just…useless to this baby right now. So he sits up and stares at me as his version of moral support. But it isn’t helping!”

“Oh! Absolutely! I remember one time I woke up in the middle of the night, and I was so tired, and I looked down and I had Stella in one arm and Aurelia in the other and I looked over and Marvel was just..out. And all I wanted was to just slit his throat. After that I started making him wake up all night, too. Which…they’re pretty useless but it makes you feel less alone. You’re the only person in the world who can take care of that baby, Clove, and it’s lonely and it’s hard but when he’s like a year old and all he wants is you, it’s the best feeling in the world”  Glimmer sits up just a little, holding both her hands out and making a gesture towards herself. “Give me the baby.”

“What? No, he’s fine–” Clove shakes her head rapidly, both her hands wrapping around his little back, holding him somehow closer to herself. 

“Clove. You’re exhausted. More than I’ve ever seen you, and that's saying something, considering we literally went through Hunger Games together. You came back from literal capital torture looking less tired. Give me the baby.”  She once again waves both hands towards herself. “Do you trust me?”

“Well yeah of course I trust you, it’s just not your job to take him.” Clove insists, shaking her head firmly, but glances sideways down at her baby. “It’s my responsibility to take care of him.”

“Clove. Give me the baby. I swear I won’t leave this bed. Give me this baby and take a nap.” Glimmer all but demands, shuffling her body to sit up a little more properly. She shoves her hands closer to the baby, patiently waiting in that position. “Let me help you. It’s what I'm here for.”

“You’re here so I don’t go try to do a sit up.” Clove hesitates, but finally acquiesced and slides her fingers under her son’s chest, lifting her son so that she can look at his sleepy face before gently hovering him closer to Glimmer. 

“You don’t have the core strength for a sit up right now, who are you kidding.” Glimmer flashes the baby a bright smile, all but abandoning her exhaustion as she pulls him into her arms. “Hey little buddy!” She coos at him, holding his head in one hand and his body with the length of her opposite arm. “You’re still such a cutie, even though you look like your dad!” 

Clove somehow looks both visibly more tense as she rolls on her side to face Glimmer, and also more relaxed at the same time. “He’s got a cute dad, of course he’s cute.” 

“Isn’t it annoying that you did all the work and he looks like him though?” She points out, gently shushing the baby as she bounces him just slightly in her arms. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like, obviously.”

“I wouldn't want him any other way.” She half mumbles, reaching her top hand up to hold on to his little body, despite the fact Glimmer is plenty capable of taking care of him. She sees the skeptical look from Glimmer, and gives her a tired half-scowl. “Leave me alone, I’ve been touching him in some way for like..ten months.”

“You’re just so maternal it’s cute.”  Glimmer grins, wiggling down so that she is laying more parallel to Clove. “He’s safe, Clove. I’ll wake you if he needs you. I promise.” 

Clove rolls her eyes to make a point, but her eyes do not bother re-opening for Glimmer to notice. 

Glimmer of course notices, particularly when Clove’s hand goes fully limp on top of the baby. She laughs to herself, never out loud in fear of waking Clove who barely wants to sleep as is, as Clove slips in and out of deep sleep, occasionally humming something over and over even while unconscious. 

“You’ve got a good mama, Atlas. Be good for her, okay?” Glimmer whispers to the tiny blond boy– okay, not tiny in compared to the actual tiny babies she herself made. “Your dad though, you can scream at him all you want.”

This is how Cato finds them an hour later, when he comes up stairs and sees Glimmer in his bed. Clove’s practically curled up in Glimmer’s side, her hand resting on top of the baby, though otherwise she is dead to the world.  

“Go home, Blondie, you’re in my spot.” Cato demands, holding a low-slung towel on his hips, nodding his head towards the door. “And don’t get any ideas about taking my kid with you.”

“Jealous, I'm in bed with your wife?” Glimmer taunts, but gives a firm shake of her head. “You can have her back after you make me breakfast, as a ‘sorry you had to come over at 5 am’ treat.”

“You act like you mind it. You’re getting to hold a new baby without any responsibilities.” Cato runs a hand through his wet hair, before dragging it down the side of his face. He struggles to get out the words ‘thank you,’ but it’s understood when he rubs at the back of his neck and asks. “Do you want me to wake Marvel to make waffles or wake Marvel to make french toast.”

“Mmm, I was actually hoping for an egg white omelet?” Glimmer scrunches her nose in a semi pout, sticking out her bottom lip playfully. 

“Can he make that?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Great. He’s making french toast then.”

It becomes a daily pattern for the next month and a half. 

______________________________________________________

It is literal years before anyone thinks about the song for more than a few seconds, other than long enough to remember to start singing it. 

“Did you learn that song from Cashmere?” Clove asks from her spot at the kitchen island, sitting on her barstool as she stirs a bowl of ice cream and sprinkles in her hand. It had been her favorite treat for the duration of her second– and final– pregnancy, but usually she had a blonde boy breathing down her neck for a bite. She takes the moment to enjoy her snack in peace– without her husband or toddler demanding she share with the same pouty face and wide blue eyes.

Sometimes she felt like she married a child and then went and made him an identical, miniature version of himself to be his new best friend. 

Enobaria crinkles her eyebrows, her face twisting from bemusement at the dark haired little girl in her arms, to actual irritation. “Did you lose your mind when this one came out?” She holds up the tiny baby girl, swimming in the little sleeper that her brother once barely fit in, as if for emphasis. “She’s been here for three days, you can’t blame her anymore.”

Three days which Enobaria has had to hear every night from Cashmere on the phone back in District One, are the longest three days she’s had in years. 

Enobaria couldn’t leave her brand new three day old niece any faster than Cashmere was willing to leave her ten day old one.

“What! I learned it from Glimmer I think. I dunno. It always puts Atlas to sleep, Sevina doesn’t seem to care about it yet.” Clove shrugs, glancing past Enobaria to catch a glimpse of her two year old son, being chased around the pool by his father. “I just assumed if I learned it from her, you learned it from Cash too-”

“Clove, that song is old District Two. I’m talking before the first war level old.” Enobaria explains, before her attention is brought right back down to the tiny girl in her arms. She never knew Clove at this age, but she can’t stop herself from wondering if this was exactly what it had been like to hold her. 

“How would I know it then?”

 “Because you were once a toddler who didn’t sleep and I was a desperate teenager.”

[quidnunc-life]

ten! first! lines!

@leenik-geelo tagged me to post first lines from ten of my fics! let's go!

There were lots of good things about being a private investigator: working whatever hours you wanted, indulging the overly nosy aspect of human nature, having reason to purchase fantastic trench coats. (letting me in or letting me go)

“It’s going to rain,” she tells him, apropos of nothing. It’s May in Omsk, utterly picturesque, blue sky and fleecy clouds and the river Irtysh throwing dappled sunlight in every direction. Even the back alley he has her cornered is positively scenic, as far as alleys go. (all the magic i have known)

It’s 11:45 on New Year’s Eve, and no, Clint doesn’t know where Natasha is, and yes, he knows they’re often together, but they’re not right now, obviously, and it’s not like he’s her babysitter, is he? (the time of night some people call morning)

It begins, as too many things in his life do, with Dog Cops. (and at night be warm)

“She’s in Venice,” Phil tells him; but Clint has been chasing the faceless Black Widow through Europe for two years now, and he’s learned better than to take the certainty in his brow seriously. (con te partirò)

Everyone knows who Natasha Romanoff is. (who wants to be a billionaire)

Objectively, it’s Clint’s fault. (fast, thorough, sharp as a tack)

When Janet suggests a team bonding event, Natasha thinks she means… you know, normal stuff: an art gallery, a movie; hell, even bowling. (some moments more spectacular than others)

There’s a diner at the end of the block, and that’s what it’s called. (minor arcana)

Sometimes, you lean against a brick wall outside a coffee shop to take a selfie with your coffee, and nothing happens. In fact, go ahead and replace “sometimes” with “usually,” or “99% of the time.” It’s highly unlikely, after all, for a wall to be anything other than what it appears to be. (listen, there's a hell of a good universe next door)

aaaaand some bonus wips, should anyone want to motivate me:

Although it’s not the career Clint Barton intended to have, he is, it turns out, an incredible assistant. (a "billionaire" sequel whose working title is "a fake marriage that definitely won't become real, no sir")

If Pepper wasn’t so desperately happy, Natasha would cheerfully murder her. (a flatshare au. working title: damn you live like this???)

tagging: @cassiesinsanity @alphaflyer @cloud--atlas @poppypickle @inkvoices @aurorashard and anyone else who wants to!!!

[turtletimewriting]

Stuck in Comfort

Summary: Donnie was having a perfectly fine nap with Raph! So what if he was now trapped underneath Raph! But of course, Leo and Mikey had to create chaos.

Look at me! Writing again. This is a tickle fic so there’s your warning.

Words: 1600

_._._

There was loud dramatic music playing and there was some part of Donnie that knew he had to do something about that. But he was too sleepy. The room was dark and he was perfectly cushioned by a nest of fleecy blankets and pillows. He had a heavy warm weight all across his body and it was literally perfect.

So often, he’d wake up to needing to stretch or having someone’s elbow digging in yet this was utterly perfect. 

Slowly it was all coming back to him. They decided to watch a couple of movies after a really tough mission as a pick me up. It couldn’t be called a proper movie night since Leo and Mikey weren’t there. Mikey had explained his head was too busy to sit there silently watching a film, he felt that urge to fidget and totally distract himself by concentrating on something physical. It wasn’t unusual for him to need to do some art quietly after a tough mission. 

Leo didn’t really explain. He just grabbed his skateboard and called them boring.

So him and Raph had shared a look and agreed to their own movie night.

They hadn’t done this since they were really little. Raph acting as the ultimate weighted blanket to dampen all sensation for Donnie to calm his frayed nerves, while Raph hugging Donnie so to calm his own thoughts of his family in danger. The movie only acting as something to fill in the silence.

Donnie sighed happily, not even opening his eyes, and tried to settle back into sleep. Raph was doing his snuffling snores so he was dead asleep so there was no way he could move even if he wanted to. Raph was deadweight and the heaviest sleeper of them all. Not that Donnie wanted to move. He was warm and his nerves were all settled and he felt just the right side of cozy sleepiness.

He flinched as he felt something soft drift over his foot.

Ugh, it was probably the blankets shifting from him waking up. Just try to settle down and allow sleep to peacefully wash over him once again.

There it was again.

He went to scratch his foot with the other since there was no way he could free his arm from underneath Raph. Only to feel something suddenly grab his ankle.

“Gah!” He shrieked, trying to sit up but he only ended up headbutting Raph’s chin. Raph didn’t even stir at that. The hand was still holding his ankle. It was awkward leaning over Raph’s sleeping form with his massive spikey shell blocking everything from view, he couldn’t see anything.

“Easy there, Don!” Mikey’s voice helpfully whispered.

“Mikey! You scared me! What are you doing? Just grabbing at me!” He was still trying to see over Raph but he was stuck at just the wrong angle.

“Oh you know! Just hanging out with you guys, told you I’d join you later!”

“Well the movie ended a while ago,” Donnie only now registered that the music he heard earlier was the credits now playing, “but you can put on another oOOAH!”

There was a deliberate stroke from a single finger from his heel right to the ball of his foot.

Mikey laughed in his obnoxious littlest sibling way that shot terror through Donnie. “What was that noise?”

“Mikey. Don’t. You. Dare.” Donnie desperately tried to peer around but he couldn’t see Mikey. No clue what he was going to do. Where he even was! He tried to rip free from Raph’s form but he was totally powerless.

“How can I not!” Mikey laughed back like this was a lighthearted matter. “You’re completely hidden under Raphie. Only your little feetsies are sticking out!”

He was now aware that his feet were bared to the world. Moving his legs was just as useless as getting his arms free. He couldn’t move at all. Only uselessly waggling his feet.

Donnie didn’t get the chance to respond as that finger returned. It barely brushed across his skin in a confident sweep up and down. One finger sending tingling tickles across his sole. He tried to hold back, breathing all weird to keep the giggles from erupting.

He could picture the stupid happy grin on Mikey’s face; so proud of himself to bring down his bigger siblings. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction.

“That tickle, Dee?” 

The finger now gently scratched at his foot. Wiggling did nothing, the grip on his ankle kept him in place and his finger was keeping strictly to his sole. “Mk! Mmff- Mike!” He tried to scold.

“Aww, are you trapped? You don’t want to be too loud, Raphie could wake up at any second!”

“An earthquake c-co couldn’t wahake Raph!” He screeched.

“But you don’t wanna disturb him though, do you? It’s only a slight tickle. You can take that, can’t you? Just a few tiny little tickles.”

The finger drifted from the direct centre of his sole to the side. Mikey did always seem to have a secret sense of knowing when a spot was getting too used to the tickling. His nerves were shot up. It tickled way more than it should’ve. His foot being electrocuted by tickles. Breathing through the giggles was getting impossible. The urge to move screaming at him but there was nothing he could do. Totally to the whims of a tickle monster of a youngest brother.

For pizza’s sake! Aren’t they meant to be the tickle monsters to the youngest! What family had the youngest be the merciless feared monster!

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Donnieeeee!” Mikey was too gleeful for someone who was totally getting attacked the second he was freed from Raph.

“Pfft!” By now he was opening smiling widely. The giggles were coming. He was just too ticklish. “Eh! Ehe ssssstop! Haha! AAAHA HAHAHA!”

“Oh finally!” 

Donnie jolted all over again. “LEO?!” 

“Surprise!” Leo said in that obnoxious drawl of his before he felt another hand grab his other foot and a much harsher scratching tickle on his other foot.

“HAHAHAHAAHAH! AAAAAAH! HAHA! HAHAHA! LEHEHO! MIHI- AAAAAH!” He couldn’t even think what to yell out. Mikey was still gently tracing around his sole like he was reading his foot while Leo was like a golden retriever going nuts over tormenting him.

“Shhh! Don’t wanna wake up Raph,” Leo teased.

“THEHEN DON’T TICKLE ME! HAHAHAHAAHAAAAAA! AAAAAH!” 

“Hmm, seems unrealistic,” Mikey said.

“Would it be better if I did this?” Leo said dramatically.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Donnie squealed, kicking his feet even harder. But the tickles on his left foot stopped. But that was definitely a trap. “No! No! No! No! Don’t you dare Leo!”

Really, being trapped like this was a mercy. Because usually any sort of line like that from Leo would mean he would be tickled across his shell. But Raph protected his death spot entirely.

Eventually, Leo walked to in front of him. Leo laughed at him, which was probably fair. He did look ridiculous. Blushing bright red while still drowning under Mikey’s soft tracing tickle. He shook out his head. 

“Heehee! Hehee ehe!” Donnie giggled, unable to stop. Scrunching up his face, Donnie couldn’t block out the tickles now he had started laughing. Even the slow tracing tingling tickle across his foot was enough to have him frantically laughing. The sillyiness of the situation going to his head.

“Hello there Ticklytello!” 

“Leeeeheheho! Lehe eheheee!”

“Yes, Ticklytello?”

Donnie felt like his brain was melting from the constant tingle, made even worse by the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. Trapped to just endure the tickling until his brothers got bored. “MAhahke him stop heheh heh stop tickling me!”

Leo rubbed his chin for a moment. “Would this help?” He reached out and happily tickled under his chin. 

Donnie slammed his head down into the pillows, trapping Leo’s hand directly into his neck. Allowing him to gently tickle away. It wasn’t that bad of a tickle spot but it added to the already flustering situation.

Mikey happily tickling gently at his feet and Leo trapped to torment his neck with reckless glee. And no matter how hard he wiggled or squirmed, Raph’s deadweight kept him stuck. Helpless to some brotherly tickling.

“GUHUHU GHUYS! HAHAHAHAAAA!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Donnie screamed, suddenly feeling a raspberry pressed to the nape of his neck.

That stopped his brothers. They were all looking up at Raph as he blew a long drawn out raspberry. Eventually he ran out of breath and pulled back, letting Donnie collapse into his pile of leftover tickles.

“Nice attack there, team,” Raph smiled.

“I thought you were asleep!” Leo exclaimed.

“Oh shoot, did we actually wake you up?” Mikey finally scooted up to the rest of them, looking a little chastised. 

“Nah,” Raph said while looking like he was seconds away from falling asleep again. His eyes drooping shut and he was nuzzling into the nape of Donnie’s neck. “Don’s headbutt from earlier got me up. Just thought he needed a good tickling.”

Leo went to make another remark but Mikey nudged him. Donnie was in the same position, falling asleep now things had calmed down again. His eyes already shut and relaxing into the blanket nest. It would be just plain cruel to tickle them now. Raph and Donnie settling to fall back asleep against each other.

“Is there room for two more?” Mikey smiled as he pounced to sleep in the crook of Raph’s arm, pressed up against Donnie too. 

“Can’t forget Leon!” 

[carlos-in-glasses]

First Line Game Tag

Thank you so much for the tag @good-ways and @paperstorm You're such beautiful writers 🥰

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Afterglow of a Supernova

Carlos speeds into the cul-de-sac and pulls up in his unit before the ambulance arrives at the scene.

To him, the McMansion appears more characterful than the staid identikit houses that flank it, beautified with hanging baskets and a climbing rose. Borders of vibrant summer blooms surround a tranquil water feature in the center of the lawn. Ceramic flowerpots either side of the porch step are lively with rotating pastel pinwheels and miniature Lone Star flags that flutter in the warm breeze. A basketball hoop fixed above the garage door sparks a memory that Carlos tries to ignore, shrugging off the past like an invisible hand on his shoulder.

Man to Man

Carlos doesn’t know where he’s going. When he reaches the end of the long drive, he has three options: turn left towards the city of Austin, turn right onto a potholed dirt track and enter the deeper darkness, or turn around and go back home. He turns right.

On an overcast night like tonight, the dark is a serious, sucking thing, like a black hole on earth. He looks up at a fractal of moonlight – a small dusty shimmer far above. Meaningless. It’s no company. But he doesn’t want company. That’s the whole point. He wants to be alone in a way that he can control, and to achieve this he had to get out, run, self-create the distance that caused his parents’ calling voices to fade to nothing behind him. Does it feel good? No. But it doesn’t feel bad, either. And that’s new. Most days he feels bad about something – and this is the worst thing he’s done for a long time.

Chasers

“Hey.” TK reaches out, brushes his fingers against the earthy red cotton of Carlos’ jacket as he turns towards the door. Carlos stops, meeting TK’s look of adoration with his warm brown eyes. They stand as if suspended in each other’s gravity, glowing for each other like stars.

“Thank you.” TK whispers, meaning his gratitude soul-deep, slightly frustrated that the words don’t convey it enough. So, he follows with, “I love you,” – really wanting to press how he feels into Carlos, so Carlos may never forget and never doubt it – although these words seem insufficient also.

The Ruins of Wonderland

The storm lands north-east of Travis County, sparing Austin the predicted chaos that for several days the emergency services have been primed to contain, with the increasing adrenaline that rises from high alerts. Instead, the city experiences the mere edge of the blizzard – a soft snowfall that settles prettily on roofs and verges. There’s a few instances of vehicles sliding out of control on icy roads, but largely the salt spreading trucks have prevented disaster. That aside, people in inappropriate footwear, totally unused to freezing conditions, slip up and bang knees and wrists, which means an uptick in X-rays at St. David’s – but TK’s Paragon EMS crew hasn’t seen much action.

In Your Adorable Glasses

Before sunrise on Christmas Eve morning, Carlos jolts awake. His eyes adjust to the dark as he stretches beneath the warm white quilt and pats around for TK, finding him low down in the bed and curled up against him like a cat. He strokes through TK's hair delicately, and when TK doesn't move Carlos slips out from under the sheets.

Folded on the chair there’s a pair of green tartan pajama pants his mom bought him last Christmas. He pulls them on quickly for warmth, and from his dresser he chooses the fleecy brown sweater that TK loves because it makes him look like a grizzly bear.

Wrestling Angels

It happens less often these days, which is some mercy, but there are times – out of nowhere – when Gwyn's death floors TK. Invisible arms lift him high off the ground, turn him upside down and slam him onto his back. He is shocked, winded, his nerves crackle with pain. Still, the abruptness of this grief playing out in front of people is rare. It usually topples him at night, at home, when he can’t occupy his mind with work. He'll slink away like a wounded cat, re-emerging only when Carlos reminds him to have dinner.

Because of the intensity of the wedding build-up, Gwyn’s loss feels greater, more recent, and lately it spikes without warning.

A Naked House

“You know we can’t roll up naked to this thing,” Carlos says, pulling on a snug pair of smoky purple boxers and turning to the bedroom mirror to smooth his hair.

TK basks stark nude on the end of the bed and grins ruefully, like he’s been presented with a challenge he knows he’ll breeze.

Carlos stays expressionless, pretending to ignore him as he heads for the closet, but TK pounces and wraps his arms around him from behind. Carlos hums, settling into TK’s warm breath against his neck.

TK sticks his tongue out and licks his ear.

Carlos chuckles from the tickle but jerks his head. “Babe, stop – we have to focus.”

Teardrop on the Fire

Thursday February 24, 2022

The 5:30 a.m. alarm doesn’t stir TK. He remains deeply asleep and curled up in the fetal position when Carlos is ready to leave for his shift.

Another twenty seconds, Carlos grants himself, to look at TK in the cool blue dawn. He leans down and softly kisses TK’s cheek, his neck, his exposed shoulder. He leaves a handwritten note next to TK on his own pillow, and reluctantly backs away.

Bathtime and Black Magic

TK had been lying awake for an hour – maybe more at this point – wondering what was wrong and why the silent-treatment. It must have been a particularly traumatic shift. All he knew for certain was that this had never happened before, and tonight broke the stable pattern of all his nights with Carlos prior.

A Rainy Day in Austin

Carlos finished his coffee and cleared up their breakfast things while TK said his wistful goodbyes to Lou, the wild alligator lizard he’d bonded with (in the way only TK could) during a medical call where he helped extract him from a gaping leg wound.

Although setting Lou free had been TK's suggestion, Carlos was tight-chested with guilt, tense in his shoulders. Not to the extent of deciding Lou could stay, but still.

Tagging @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @ladytessa74 and @heartstringsduet and @tailoredshirt if you haven't been tagged yet and want to share!

[sylphidine]

Wrote about 9000 words of polyamory in the last week, with equal parts fluph and angst.

It's definitely becoming true for me that the more often I write, the more words I ***can*** write and the more storytelling progress I can make in shorter bursts of time.

Once I complete this college AU work, which is probably less than ten chapters away from completion, more likely closer to five, I'll be turning back to fantasy writing. It will be curious to see whether my writing speed slows down again.

I have been told by at least one fellow fanfic writer that fantasy works take them longer to write than human!AUs, because there's more worldbuilding involved. I can agree, partly, but when I look at my notes files for this human!AU versus the notes files for any of my fantasy works, the college AU files are much lengthier. More references, more research, more footnotes, more saved photos. That feels like worldbuilding to me, whereas my fantasy works are all based on the fandom's building blocks where everything seems to have been already laid out for me.

Hmmm.

[greymantledlady]

American friends help. what do you call this garment?

in Australia we call it an oodie because that's the brand name... it's made of fleecy velvet, super huge and soft and cuddly and you wear it to bed. please help i want to write it into a fic 😭 anyone?

[iboopedyournose]

Ask Game!

I was tagged by both my fav authors! Thanks lovelies! @faye-tale @colettebronte 🥰🥰

nickname | full name is Emily so ‘Em’ is what most people call me but ‘Emmy’ is my self-appointed nickname lol (+my little Tori when I met her bc she couldn’t pronounce my name yet 🥹)

height | 5’5.5’’

last google search | jobs near where I go to school 😭🙃

song stuck my head | yesterday, ‘Womanizer’ by Brittney Spears, but also ‘Copacabana’ everyday for like 10 years lmao

number of followers | 173 which is higher than I thought tbh 🤣

amount of sleep | my sleep schedule is fucked rn and the weather is depressing me so I’ve been going to bed at like 1 and sleeping til noon soooo like 11 hours?? 😅

dream job | omg idk. I mean ideally NONE but I’m fabulously wealthy and can do whatever I want and not stress lol but since that’s crazysauce until Chris Evans marries me I’m not sure. I’m a fashion design student and part of me really want to make costumes but is terrified I don’t have what it takes. I think designing toys would be fucking awesome!? Designing clothes for Barbie would be awesome I think!

wearing | my beloved sweatpants that I live in, a comfy rib-knit long-sleeve tee, and my giant hideous granny panties from Walmart 🤣 (super comfy)

movie/book that describes you | this is really tough 🤔🤔 one of the most relatable movies I’ve ever seen to this day tho is Pixar’s ‘Inside Out’. Still makes me cry every time

aesthetic | hmmm pumpkins, kitty cats, periwinkle blue, sparkly things, fairies, pastels, witchy, daydreaming, twinkly lights, clicky boots, autumn, woodland creatures, flowers & greenery, romantic, historic fashions, cozy, spooky but soft, sweaters, Keds, berries

favorite author(s) | I already told you! 😆 @fayes-fics & @colettebronte are my favs fr! 🫶🏻🫶🏻seriously I’ve only JUST started reading actual books and it’s still not really my thing tbh and I’m not particularly loyal to any authors. I just read whatever looks interesting (trashy romance mostly 🤷🏼‍♀️)

favorite song | no fucking way I could ever choose! So I’ll just list a bunch of artists whose music I love- Taylor Swift, Dave Edmunds, Cruel Youth, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Panic at the Disco, Harry Styles, Sweet, Don Mclean, The Driver Era, Boston, The Monkees, plus a ton of Broadway shit and soundtracks

random fact | I never sleep under my comforter and sheets?? Idk why I just hate it so I sleep on top with a fleecy blanket or two

No pressure tags | @spookysexy @benedictscanvas @thespaghettighost @kathanisharmaa @waterlilyrose

[pawbeanies]

3. daydreams - if you could be anything or anyone, who would you be? 6. ivory - describe your pajamas? 11. poppy - favorite pastel color? 12. dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face? 18. honey - favorite term of endearment? 24. backyard - did you ever have an imaginary friend? 28. shampoo - favorite scent? 32. lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite? 38. roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

!!!! hi anon!!!! so many questions... i ramble a lot so!! under the readmore!!! thank you for the questions yay yay yay!!!!

ask game link hereee!!

3. daydreams - if you could be anything or anyone, who would you be?

ohhh... oh to be like a puppy on someone's lap i think... i think the ultimate day dream would be to be someone who can lives at home and plays games and takes naps all day but doesn't have to worry about money or anything !!! wistfully looking out the window oh to be a pet. or happily spending time at home forever. this was my first thought and then i got a little bummed because my brain went "??? is that it??? you can be anything and thats what we'd want to be???" and yes. yes it is. im a little boring but all i want to be is happy and Cozy...

6. ivory - describe your pajamas?

speaking of cozyyyy !!!!! my fav pajamas are these fleecy red pajamas and tshirts i got from uni .. or old tshirts from work it depends on whatevers not in the laundry... i won a long sleeved uni shirt at an on campus event and it has been my favorite sleep shirt ever since. the mark of a CHAMPION

11. poppy - favorite pastel color?

All Of Them ... no but i really like pastel purples!! lilac and lavender type vibes... pastel pinks are also good!! but then i also like blue .... im too indecisive to pick a favorite pastel color i love them all........

12. dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?

eyes i think !!! i always look at peoples eyes because they're pretty ... or like the way people smile i think ??? that can be attractive too........

18. honey - favorite term of endearment?

all of them !!!!!!!!!!!!! no but hmm. i think things with "sweet" in them are my fav likeee. sweetheart or sweet thing?? sweet boy ??? i saw "sweetling" in a fic once and it was really good too but i fear that if someone said that i dont know how my brain would react . coming from like another living being and not blorbo gameseries

24. backyard - did you ever have an imaginary friend?

i actually didnt !!! i dunno i didnt have like. many friends but i never felt the need to liek Make an imaginary friend if that makes sense ... sometimes i would pretend like i had one because i was like. kids are supposed to have imaginary friends right. so when people were looking i would pretend to play with my imaginary friend but in my brain was like "im just talking to air huh...... but this is what other kids do right......"

28. shampoo - favorite scent?

i love!!! the smell of coffee!!! its my favorite smell.. i have a candle that smells like coffee and i keep it in my room for that Coffee smell ... i need to find more coffee scented things hmmhmm ... i also really like the smell of lavender !!! semi related but lavender lattes are my favorite . would recommend. smells and tastes good

32. lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

the tuna pinafore from umvvelt !!!! its cute and has pockets AND fish on it !!! being cute is very good but also i need something with utility yknow... i also have a cute black dress with flowers !!! i posted pics of somewhere on here ....... somewhere in picbeanies ...

38. roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

i really like !!!!!!!!! hydrangeas!!! they are my fav flowers i think. lavender flowers are a close second but i like the Ball shape of hydrangeas theyre like friend shaped and they come in so many colors...

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

soft asks 6, 11, 14, 23 pls

6. What’s your favorite candle scent?

At one time, it used to be mulberry. Mulberry used to be a huge popular scent in the 80s then it dropped off the radar. These days, my favorites - all Yankee Candle ones - are the autumn and winter scents like Harvest and Autumn in the City and Farmers Market and all the pine/balsam/fir type scents. Those are all my faves. OH! OH OH! And of course, one of my TOP FAVES EVER is the Mountain Lodge candle from Yankee Candle that inspired this amazing post.

11. Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

I have a couple actually. One is this fleecy sort of shirt, not really a sweatshirt and not a sweater, but just this thick fleecy dark gray shirt I found at Goodwill in San Marcos, Texas, while I was living there for grad school. I think I paid $4 for it. But it's like wearing a security blanket - I wear it all through the winter to stay warm in the evenings and I'll sleep in it when it's really super cold. It's also seen me through several illnesses, like the kidney infection in 2011. I love that thing.

Then there's my Black Panther 2X hoodie that is more like a house robe at this point because it's so huge on me, and I mostly wear it around the house to stay warm and cozy.

I've got a stuffed bear from the college I went to when I went back for my BA, and a stuffed octopus that came from that Wildlife Conservation place (adopt a wolf, adopt a moose, adopt an octopus...that one), and a stuffed IKEA alligator (crocodile, actually, I think, but I'm eventually buying Loki horns for him).

14. What's something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Well, I'd like to say that I'm excited to move away from Texas, but that's still not happening any time soon, and I'd be excited if someone would give me a goddamn job so that I could get money coming in so that I could eventually move away from Texas (or at least back down to my hometown that's on the coast of Texas). But those aren't anything upcoming.

Upcoming. Hmm. Other than finishing fics and getting into my new fandom bingo prompts, there isn't really anything upcoming that I'm excited for. I wish there was, but everything's kind of stagnating at the moment. Need Rimble to show up and shake it all up again but in a good way.

23. Have you ever received flowers?

I have, but it's been YEARS. My ex rarely bought me flowers - he did in the beginning and then quit, and then about a year before he decided he was ditching me, he started buying me flowers sometimes again. And my former roommate bought me flowers a couple of times, but that's about it on me getting flowers from anyone other than myself.

Thanks for the asks!

Soft Asks.

[nopenototdaysatan]

Anniversary of starting this fic up means cute soft poetry about Link wearing Ravio's robe. CX

Chilly Mornings and Comfy Robes

Pain cascading through his body. Taking up space everywhere it can reach. The sun is bright and blinding And the morning chill is sinking into joints.

Dragging blankets up and around-

And there’s something extra? Something soft and fleecy. Something with ears? Rav’s purple robe.

It’s feels fantastic in my hands Warm and comforting And it still smells like him. It would fit me just as it does Rav. … No one would see either.

Pulling the end of the robe up, I dive into the purple robe The pain spiking from the movement Before easing at the warmth.

Pulling the hood over my head, I hide within the warmth of the fabric And the smell of my love As the comfort pulls me back to sleep.

-a couple hours later-

I hadn’t thought of it when I left But my lovely Rabbit robe was left at home. And during a chilly morning I could have used it for. But that’s fine, I know exactly where I left it. Our bed.

Where my darling Link has stolen it, it seems. The cold has never treated him well So, I can’t blame him for wanting the warmth And I can’t help but to adore the look of him happy and warm And with cute little bunny ears to top it off.

With a kiss on his one visible cheek, That he curls into the hood further To get away from my ticklish kiss it seems. I can’t help but chuckle on the way out.

“Sleep well, my hero.”

Never have the chance

(if you want the full experience, go and pull up the song Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives. -Satan)

I think I always understood,

My hands weren’t clever but clumsy.

And yet I could see clearly

The way yours were.

Your bravery inspired me

While I watched you save our homes,

And yet I couldn’t even find the courage

To ask you to be my own.

With this heart of mine

That’s guilty, not remorseful;

I find the beating of my heart

Screaming out for you.

I wish I could let you know of this burning

Yet hopeful feeling in my chest;

But it would have buried you alive

If I had spoken it aloud.

I think I always knew

That we could never be.

Not someone as bright as you

With a shadow like me.

And so with these hands of mine

I’ll steer you away,

Free and unbound,

From the anchor that is me.

…

I'll watch your hands slip from mine

And watch as you walk away

Wishing for nothing more than

Your hands in mine once more.

And I’ll smile, large enough to hide

Everything falling apart inside.

I would lie again and again

For your happy ever after.

Goodbye Link.

-Love Ravio

[ceescedasticity]

i looked thru your writing babble tag and couldnt find it, do u have a link to the start again timeline? i get confused trying to figure out when everyones remembering relates to each other

Assuming that P5 takes place in 2016…

(Spoilers for everything posted so far…)

Late December 2013 –

Very beginning of Escher. Futaba starts getting a weird feeling of deja vu.

Yusuke wakes up remembering everything but isn’t sure it’s real.

Morgana also remembers at this point, though details have not been revealed.

January 2014 –

Futaba continues to feel deja vu.

Morgana leaves a warning note in the Isshiki mailbox.

Yusuke looks for Leblanc, but it isn’t there.

Goro starts having interrogation room dreams, usually about once a week.

Yusuke is dreaming of Madarame’s Palace almost every night. This doesn’t really stop.

Reserved-parking-place-related breakdown/rage fugue

February 2014 –

Goro cases the exterior of the Jikken Palace.

People are noticing Yusuke’s not sleeping well.

March 2014 –

Goro tips the police off about a drug dealer – why hasn’t been explained, but it may have been as a favor to Sasaki

Hitoshi has a manic episode.

April 2014 –

New school year! Probably April 7.

--Haru and Makoto start first year of high school at Shuujin

--Goro starts first year of high school at Jikken

--Yusuke starts third year of middle school

--Futaba starts second year of middle school

--Kiyomi starts third and final year of high school; Hitoshi starts second year of high school

--Hifumi starts third year of middle school

--Ryuji and Ann start third year of middle school at the same school, somewhere in Tokyo

--Akira starts third year of middle school somewhere outside Tokyo

Haru remembers; Count of Monte Cristo begins. Haru meets and befriends Makoto but verifies she does not remember anything.

I didn’t consult a calendar while writing COMC so I’m not 100% sure everything will line up.

Yusuke refuses the ‘life drawing��� proposal, starts painting Self-Portrait as a Cognition.

Haru tracks down Goro and blackmails him for Metaverse access.

The next day, shows Makoto Kamoshida’s Palace but doesn’t take her inside.

That Saturday, probably 4/19, Haru gets careless and runs into trouble in the castle, has to be rescued by Makoto and Goro.

Tuesday (4/22?): breakdown/rage fugue with the attacking people with shoes.

Thursday (4/24?), first joint trip into Jikken.

Goro’s interrogation room dreams turn into engine room dreams.

After the first joint trip to the space station (4/26?), Haru and Makoto get a look at Goro’s notebook, Goro hears about navigator abilities and recruiting personas.

Yeah I think I was thinking school started earlier in April than it probably did, the end of the month is getting a little rushed. Not completely implausible at least.

May 2014 –

Early in the month, Goro gets Defarge persona; his Akira dreams turn lucid.

Sometime this month, Yusuke makes sure exhibition tickets are sent to Kunikazu Okumura. One way or another Haru never sees them.

About 5/5?, Kunikazu announces Haru is engaged.

Almost a week later (5/10?), introduces Tomioka-san.

Little Palace activity in the next week. Makoto snoops around the volleyball team, Goro takes down Sasaki.

The weekend (5/17-5/18?) is rough.

Another week of little activity. Makoto breaks the starship log code and Goro scouts out Tomioka in Mementos.

Saturday (5/24?): rage fugue/breakdown for Tomioka

Sunday (5/25): Goro offers to prioritize the space station

June 2014 –

Futaba is subconsciously aware that Wakaba “will” have a mental shutdown, and very anxious.

Hitoshi/Kiyomi/Madarame start noticing there’s something kind of funny about Self-Portrait as a Cognition.

Haru, Makoto, and Goro secure a route to the Treasure, then wait a little longer to gather strength before sending the calling card

Kunikazu’s heart changed

July 2014 –

COMC crew focuses on studying and exams until the end of the term (probably about 7/20).

August 2014 –

Futaba is subconsciously aware that Wakaba “should” have had a mental shutdown. Deja vu turns into disorientation.

Madarame decides Self-Portrait as a Cognition is too creepy to plagiarize.

COMC crew reaches the top of the laboratory and the Treasure and Shadow aren’t there – now they have to go down.

Goro admits he’s not actually working for Shido.

September 2014 –

Self-Portrait as a Cognition is mostly complete.

9/1, school term starts.

9/8, Haru informs Goro he will be transferring.

9/15, Goro moves to Shuujin.

Unlike the original timeline, Kiyomi does not leave.

A politician who had a mental shutdown last timeline dies in a “car accident”.

October 2014 –

Hitoshi has a depressive episode.

Nakanohara leaves the atelier, roughly at the same time as he did last timeline.

November 2014 –

COMC crew reaches the Jikken Treasure, decides they need to scout.

11/8-11/9 – Cultural festival weekend:

--At Shuujin, there is a ‘syrup incident’, but otherwise uneventful.

--Makoto sees Kamoshida smarming at potential students.

--At Kosei, Yusuke runs into Ann, who doesn’t recognize him, and Hifumi, who he blurts out some information to.

--That evening, Yusuke and Hifumi fall through Self-Portrait as a Cognition (in front of Kiyomi) and return an hour later (in front of Hitoshi).

11/10 - Ryuji remembers, verifies that Ann does not

Yusuke starts visiting the museum Palace frequently. His sleep gets a lot better.

Wakaba’s lab succeeds in opening a portal into the Metaverse.

Futaba bugs Wakaba’s phone.

11/15 – COMC crew checks out the SIU Director’s Palace, Goro gets Medea.

11/16, Yusuke and Hifumi visit Mementos.

COMC crew defeats the Jikken Palace, changes Ishikawa’s heart.

11/29, Hifumi grounded after a fight with her mother over forfeiting a game.

11/30, Ryuji dyes his hair

December 2014 –

12/1, Ryuji mistakes a stray cat for Morgana. Ooops.

12/7, Yusuke and Hifumi visit a Palace at her middle school.

~12/15, Goro has the flu, tells Makoto his time travel theory.

Atelier water heater breaks, Madarame leaves for “retreat” (read: resort).

12/25, conspiracy tries to have Wakaba killed and fake an accidental overdose.

12/26, power in the atelier is cut off due to lack of payment. Futaba remembers everything after her uncle yells at her in the hospital. In the evening, runs into Yusuke. Yusuke & senpai go to stay at Isshiki apartment.

12/28, Futaba, Yusuke, and Hifumi go after Uncle Yoji in Mementos. On the way out pass Goro interrogating a Shadow (Ito) about judges, prosecutors, school sponsorship.

12/30, Futaba discovers Wakaba’s Palace.

12/31, Futaba, Yusuke, and Hifumi scout Wakaba’s Palace. Someone at the “spiritual retreat” sets fire to the buffet.

January 2015 –

Yusuke, Kiyomi, and Hitoshi return to the atelier. Sojiro moves into the Isshiki apartment but is mostly at the hospital.

First two weeks, Escher crew practices in the museum Palace, make tools, gather supplies.

Make it up the outside of the pyramid in one go.

Hifumi stops competing formally for the year, has another fight with her mother.

Another Palace trip: top of the pyramid to Hedonistic Braggart

Another trip: Solve the puzzle to clear the way up

1/17-1/19, university entrance exams

Another trip: up through the adyton, have to run from the Hundred-Armed Slave.

Yusuke contacts Dr. Takemi, Hifumi starts sneaking out with a rope ladder.

~1/22, beat the Hundred-Armed Slave, clear the crawlspace.

At least one Palace trip just getting money. Sojiro is alienating the nurses.

First trip into the pagoda section: have to run from Cognitive Sojiro.

Second pagoda trip: run from Shadows.

A few days of downtime before pagoda Attempt 3.

Attempt 4 on the pagoda – end up at the top of the temple, confront Asherah.

Next day (Sunday, probably 2/1), Wakaba wakes up.

February 2015 –

~2/6, Futaba remembers to look into Okumura Foods

Escher & COMC crews meet up

[some other stuff is going on with Escher&COMC crews after this but it hasn’t been revealed]

April 2015—

April 6 — new school year

April 11 — “interview” dumps Ryuji & co in Metaverse

April 13 — Ryuji & co return from Metaverse a little after midnight. Weapon shopping in the evening.

[greenishghostey]

The Gang's All Here

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your friends had told you on several occasions that still having stuffed animals on your bed at twenty years old would be a boner killer for your boyfriend. Luckily, your boyfriend made up elves and orcs on the regular. Some stuffed animals weren't gonna scare him off so easily.

Word Count: 4,979 (2,200 of this is the smut, im sorry)

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, graphic smut, p in v, protected sex, face sitting/riding, enthusiastic pussy eating, fluffy smut, sort of sub!Eddie, extensive dirty talk, this guy cannot shut up ever, established relationship, enthusiastic consent (everyone's having a grand ol' time), a lot of affection, the stuffed animals don't watch, I think that's all please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I wrote fluffy filthy again! This came from me seeing one of those Eddie + text post pictures saying, "she let me hit because I was polite to her squishmallows". That is why this exists. Please enjoy because this was so much fun to write! Also, I know that this definitely isn't an original idea, I think I've read fics similar to this but can't think of the exact ones right now. But, I know they're out there. DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

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Being 20 years old and still living with your parents in the sleepy town of Hawkins wasn’t anything to sniff at. Some people have to work a little after high school before packing up and moving anywhere else. It also helped that you had a boyfriend who was on his third try at senior year. He was a pretty cool reason to stick around your dull hometown. Eddie made it all a bit more colourful. 

You and Eddie had been dating for a few months. You had been friendly in high school, but then he started flirting with you when he came into the grocery store. Eddie was a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and it had worked on you. He had knocked over a candy bar rack at your register but also had cleaned it all up. The sweetheart that he was.

Your relationship was great. It was adorable. It was intimate. It was healthy. You guys were best friends and told each other every little thing, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Eddie told you about his passion for writing and about his family. You told him about your future plans beyond Hawkins - him hopefully being included - and your past and present knitting projects. He wanted a burgundy hat and scarf set for his birthday. A bobble hat was preferred - he wasn’t sure if those were hard to make, so he wasn’t too picky. 

However, there was one thing that you had kept from Eddie. You had worked pretty hard to hide away this tiny part of yourself whenever he came to your house. Shoving the incriminating objects into a box at the back of your closet, even though it pained you to do so. 

It was embarrassing to be 20 years old and still have a beloved little group of stuffed animals perched on your bed. Well, that’s what your friends had told you anyway. No guy would want to fuck a girl while a fluffy lizard, Reggie, from the Indianapolis zoo, is staring at him. 

In addition to little Reg, there were three others. Woolia, a fleecy sheep that you got on your third birthday. Jules, a light blue dolphin with big shiny eyes. Finally, there was Mimi, a fluffy white unicorn that had been with you since birth. 

The soft animals had been with you through thick and thin for the majority of your life. First days of school, homework meltdowns, the day you figured out what boys were. All of the essential milestones had been witnessed by their little plastic eyes. They were as much your family as your parents were. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to let Eddie know about them in any capacity. Hiding them away was a tedious task. If Eddie said he would pick you up from work, you’d shove them in the box before you left for your shift. If Eddie stopped by, you’d tell him you had to tidy your room before he could come in. He always laughed and insisted that he would be fine if your room were like a bomb site. He was too modest for his own good, but he still wasn’t seeing your fluffy little secrets.

-

You had just dragged yourself home from a, quite frankly, hellish evening shift. Your shift was supposed to finish at 9, but your manager had bitched at you enough to make you stay for an extra hour. Fridays from 5-8 were discount hours and the time frame when everyone came to buy their weekend booze. Older people were horrendous when their favourite beer brand was out of stock - like you had personally gone to the trouble of buying every pallet of the dishwater piss just to be annoying.

There was some Chinese takeout in the microwave for you since your parents had headed off to their respective night shifts at the hospital. You balanced two boxes - sesame chicken and chow mein - with a can of Pepsi in your arms as you dashed up the stairs to your bedroom. Fresh pyjamas were waiting for you, Eddie had lent you his copy of Fellowship of The Ring, and you were so ready to turn your brain off and-

“Honey, you’re home!” The chipper voice almost made you drop everything. A chill ran down your spine, and, honestly, you felt like you were going to start eroding away into the atmosphere from humiliation. Eddie was lounging on your bed, his waves splayed over your pillows, and soft animals moved carefully to be at his sides - two on each side, making sure no one felt left out. “What you got in the boxes? And can we share?” 

You stood at the foot of your bed, taking in the weirdly domestic image in front of you, “why are you here?” you asked, voice sounding distant. 

Eddie’s brows furrowed, and he began to sit up, “Should’ve asked first, knew I should’ve. Sorry, just thought it would be all romantic and shit, ya know.” He mumbled. Eddie looked very dejected. Had he overstepped a boundary? Did you want your alone time? God, he could be so dumb sometimes when it came to you.

Shaking your head, you moved to put down the takeout boxes and your bag, “No, no. Don’t worry,” you smiled, patting his thigh as you passed him, “just wasn’t expecting to see you all comfortable and cosy there with - with all that.” 

“I am pretty comfy. These lil guys kept me company until you got back.” Eddie beamed, practically melting into your sheets and gesturing to your stuffed animals. Did he like them? He didn’t think it was weird that you still had them. Your expression showed that your mind was running a mile a minute when you really should be starting to relax. He knew that evening shifts were the pits for you. “How come I’ve never met the gang before?” 

“The gang?” You snorted, pulling off your sports jacket and throwing it on your clothes chair, “I just thought it was a little kiddy to still have stuffed animals on my bed. Was worried you’d - I dunno.”

“Worried I’d what? You know who you’re talking to?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, fixing you with a look that made you squirm, “some fluffy little secrets aren’t gonna scare me off, promise.” 

“You sure you don’t think they’re weird?” Your voice wasn’t more than a mumble as you sat down beside him on the bed, “the girls said they’re kind of a boner killer.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he started to wriggle his way over to you to lay his head in your lap. When he was in this type of mood - a big softie mood - you had to wonder why you thought he’d care about some stuffed toys. Those thoughts didn’t soothe your anxiety entirely, though; you would need to hear the confirmation from him - potentially in writing, for your own sanity. His big, molasses eyes stared up at you with a determined look. God, he was going to monologue in a minute, and it was going to be correct, and you would feel all mushy.

“I want names, place of origin, and lore if you got any,” Eddie stated, counting on each of his fingers to really hammer in his point and make it clear that he was interested. It warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t felt since your first date with him. Of course, the guy warmed your very soul on a near-daily basis. But when he showed just how much he cared, it made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. “We’re starting with the sheep. Obviously. Give me the deets.” He picked up Woolia and placed her on his chest, arranging her hooves properly.

You couldn’t fight back the grin that spread from ear to ear. Your fingers gently carded through Eddie’s hair as you introduced him to the ‘gang’ “This is Woolia.”

Eddie barked out a laugh at the name, not in malice but in a combination of pride and pleasant surprise, “I never knew you were so creative, babe.”

“Shut up. Do you want the full run down or not?” You teased, flickering his forehead lightly until he stopped laughing. “As I was saying, I’ve had Woolia since I was 3. My grandma got her for me when she went to Wyoming.”

“A Wyomingite? Christ, it’s a good thing she’s cute.” Eddie grimaced, moving the small sheep from his chest and putting her back in her original place. He was so careful with her - you usually squished her in your sleep and woke up with her under your tailbone. “Green gecko dude next.” 

Reggie was whisked from his spot and placed onto Eddie’s chest, now the introduction stage for your stuffed animals. You had been so concerned about being embarrassed if Eddie ever caught wind of them. Yet here he was, demanding all information on each of them individually.

“This is Reggie, short for Reginald Von Scales II,” you were interrupted by yet another loud chuckle from Eddie. He was having the time of his life - he might have to start asking you to help with character names for this campaign. “Yeah, I’m hilarious, I know. Anyway, I got Reggie when I was eight and went to the big zoo in Indianapolis with my parents. All the stuffed animals in the gift shop were begging to be taken home. My dad said since I was good, I could get anyone I wanted. Reggie was hidden at the back of a shelf, and I knew I had to get him when I saw him.” 

Talking about the origins of these soft creatures was nostalgic and brought a warmness to your body that was relaxing. So many great memories were linked to the toys, and now you’d have a new one with Eddie there.

“Hey, he’s kinda like me! You could’ve had your pick of guys around here, but you chose little ol’ me.” Eddie enthused. He blinked his eyelashes up at you and wiggled his eyebrows - screw Woolia; it was a good thing he was cute. “You got me from the very, very back of the man shelf. Like, you must have been digging for some weird shit to get - well, this.” He gestured to himself.

Your gaze softened. He wasn’t “weird shit���. He wasn’t just any guy. Sure, he was pushed to the back of the line when it came to discussing eligible bachelors around Hawkins, but he was all yours now. That’s all that mattered. “I’ve got specific, immaculate taste, and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t being met.” You stated matter of factly. 

“Aw, you always know how to make a dude swoon.” Eddie sighed dreamily. Christ, he was a mushy idiot. If anyone saw him like this, his reputation would be in the toilet. “Reggie is the running for the favourite. Let’s see what blue boy here can bring to the table.” Eddie made the switch between Reggie and Jules, the extra soft dolphin.

“Jules is just… Jules. Got both boy and girl vibes, if I’m honest.” You explained, shrugging at Eddie, who nodded in understanding, “Got them in a thrift store with my mom when I was five, I think? Another case of a toy sitting on a shelf and me deciding to call forever dibs.” 

A giddy smirk appeared on Eddie’s face, “you’ve got a thing for picking up strays, huh?” He was wiggling his eyebrows again, so you flicked his forehead again. 

“Stop acting like you’re some flea-infested cat. I’ll get mad.” You huffed, trying your best to sound genuinely stern with him, but it definitely didn’t work. You ran your thumb across his knuckles as he started poking Jules’ squishy head. 

Eddie took hold of your offered hand and kissed the back of it, “fine, I’ll quit bad-mouthing your man.”

“Thank you very much. Now, onto Mimi.” 

“I did save the unicorn for last,” You knew that. If there was anything to do with the high fantasy genre, Eddie would be all over it. Even the pretty magic horses. 

“She is the oldest of the bunch. Been perched by those pillows since before I can remember.” You informed, fixing a stray tuft of hair on her bright mane. “My mom has a ton of photos of me carrying her around everywhere.”

Eddie looked at the unicorn toy with a distinct fondness, a soft smile and an even softer gaze.

“What’s got you all smiley?”

“Nothin’, that’s just really sweet, is all. Mimi’s had your back forever.” You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss or smother him with a pillow. He was too fucking adorable when he was like this. 

“I guess she has, yeah.” You breathed, running your fingers through Eddie’s hair again, “What do you think of the gang then?”

“Big, big fan. I think Reg is my favourite. He’s got that underdog vibe going on, which I respect.” Eddie leaned over and tried to give the gecko plush a fist bump with his finger. 

You weren’t sure what came over you. A warmth had been stirring inside you since Eddie put his head on your lap and was polite to your stuffed animals. He listened closely and handled them like they were valuable to him too. The intimacy of this whole situation was not lost on you. If anything, you were far too aware of it. Eddie loved you and your quirks the same way you loved him and his. 

You bit your bottom lip slightly and turned to glance down at the blissful man in your lap.

“C’mere a sec,” Eddie said, leaning up on his elbows. You knew what “c’mere” meant, so you let Eddie place one of his hands on the back of your head, bringing your lips together. The kiss was so sweet. The usual saccharine kisses that the town’s resident satan worshipper was a big fan of laying on you at any opportunity. Eddie’s lips were always soft as his kiss became firmer. 

He pulled away by a hair to sit back against your pillows and guided you to straddle his thighs before diving back into your waiting, wanting mouth. You were hungrier for him now. The warmth in your stomach was being fueled as Eddie ran his hands up your thighs to rest of your ass. Feeling the fat and groaning when you shifted your hips - your ass and thighs drove the poor guy mad, and you loved it.

Your eyes opened slightly to make sure you closed your bedroom door but made contact with Mimi's big, black plastic eyes. Quickly, you pulled away from Eddie with heaving pants. It felt like torture to let him go at that moment. The stiff bulge of his cock pressing into your clothed cunt. Yeah, the gang was going to have to move - and move quickly.

“Wait, wait, Eddie,” You panted, clambering off his lap.

“What? You good? Did I get the wrong hole?” Eddie rambled, sitting up abruptly and looking more than a little frazzled. He was all rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, and he had to ruin it by thinking it’d simulated anal. So charming. 

“No, you’d know if you’d done that, trust me,” You said as you gently placed your plush friends on the carpet, far away from your bed and facing the wall. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but they would have to deal with it while you rode your boyfriend until he screamed.

“Ah. You don’t want an audience, I gotcha,” Eddie nodded, winking at you from his spot on your bed. Satisfied with the gang’s relocation, you turned back to Eddie, pulling off your work shirt and getting to work on your jeans. 

Eddie quickly got the hint and nearly ripped his baseball tee while trying to get it over his head fast enough. His belt was launched somewhere in your room as he opened his arms to welcome you back onto his lap. Your hungry mouth again devoured his in a wet kiss, full of groans and rapid breaths. Eddie made quick work on your bra, having become intimately acquainted with this particular nude one. It was an old faithful that you didn’t want him to see as much as he did, but that’s just how getting naked seemed to go for you both. 

You threw yourself onto the mattress beside Eddie and started to claw at your jeans to get them off. Eddie followed suit as you were both in a tangle of legs and denim, fidgeting desperately to get that glorious skin-to-skin contact. 

Once down to your underwear, you grabbed Eddie’s head and pulled him in so you could lick, kiss and nibble at his pulse point. He really loved it when you got grabby and roughed him up a little. The lack of control over your own strength had his cock twitching in his boxers. 

“Can we do that thing, please?” You sighed, running your fingers up and down Eddie’s chest. Fuck, you were sweating and close to humping your cunt into Eddie’s erection - chasing friction that only he could give you. 

Eddie moaned when your fingertips grazed his nipples, his darkened eyes struggling to say open, “Which one? There’s a couple. We can do anything you want, babe.” You could punch him, kick him or rip his hair out right now and he’d be so cool with it. 

Eddie was finally getting to experience heaven. The god squad of Hawkins would be so jealous of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled him onto his back with a bounce, pinning him and shooting him a toothy grin. 

“Me riding you. Everywhere. Face, cock. Sound like a plan?” You chirped, wiggling your hips how he liked it. Faking some innocence in the moment was too fun to pass up. Plus, riling Eddie up was a surefire way to make him lose his mind in the best ways. 

Eddie nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, “Amazing idea. God, my lady’s so smart.” He grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you towards his head while he shifted his body down the bed. Eating your cunt was one of Eddie’s favourite pastimes, but it was so much better when you rode his face and used him to get yourself off. 

You had forgotten to pull your panties off before straddling your boyfriend’s head. Usually, this would have led to you fiddling and contorting yourself to get them off. 

Not today, though. Eddie just grabbed the lace trim, yanked them to the side, so they bit into your ass cheek and shoved his face into your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck yes, thank you,” Eddie groaned before licking and sucking your clit. He was like a man starved as he groped and massaged your ass, making sure you wouldn’t hold back on him. 

You let your head lull back as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips beginning to grind and ride his full lips and hot tongue. The wet, sloppy sounds of Eddie, essentially making out with your hole and clit brought a feral smile to your face. God, he always made you smile so big that your face hurt in the best way. 

Eddie started shaking his head between your legs, his tongue circling your hole before returning to flicking your puffy, needy clit. 

“Still can’t believe you let me do this,” Eddie sighed, saliva and your wet covering his flushed lips, “‘m I making you feel good, sweetheart?” 

Your moans were getting louder and more hoarse as Eddie started to move your hips himself, urging you to use him. You loved when he talked like that - his tongue, his lips, his voice. His mouth was everything. 

“Y-Yes, yes. You really want me to drench your pretty face, huh?” You giggled, sweet sighs of ecstasy huffing from your throat. Eddie whined while his tongue fucked you. “Pretty, pretty boy - fuck, please.”

“Shit - yeah, you taste fucking incredible. Gimme it all, babe, ah fuck.”

Eddie doubled down his efforts. Straining his neck a little to fuck up into you with more force and precision. You were leaking down his chin and making yourself all sticky. A blissful state, full of love and affection. Eddie huffed a laugh on your cunt as he saw the dreamy smirk on your lips. 

Groaning, whining, cursing. You two must have sounded like animals in heat as the springs in your mattress started to bounce and squeak. The room was that familiar warm - cosy, somewhat comfortable sweat and the smell of sex. 

Eddie forced your cunt down more onto his face. He would gladly suffocate right then and there. He needed your cum before you rode him because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Eddie liked the mess; it was filthy and made him feel so alive. But the lady has to finish first, and then you keep going until she nearly rips your damn head off. Eddie got that tip from a magazine one time. 

“Christ, you’re so so good - fuck, Eddie, your mouth!” You growled. You tended to make much deeper sounds when you were close. Eddie felt like he was going to blow his load in his boxers. “Just a little m-more.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Eddie chanted wetly, “Please - soak my pretty face.” 

That did it. 

Your hands knotted further into Eddie’s sweaty hair and gripped it like a lifeline as you wailed your release. He always liked when you pulled his hair. It made his eyes roll back in such a beautiful way. That was no different now. Big brown eyes were glazed over as they rolled into Eddie’s skull; you could feel a smug smile on his face. You gave him all of you, just like he wanted. You were the fucking best. 

You moved down Eddie’s torso in panting silence to straddle him again. You couldn’t wait for him to get his boxers off entirely, so you pulled them down enough for his swollen cock to slap against his stomach. It had become a talent of yours to make quick yet effective work of getting a condom on. Eddie fucking you raw was going to be on the table at some point, just not tonight. Too risky.

Fuck, he felt like he was going to scream or melt or just-

There was a distinct, sloppy slap. Followed by two even louder cries of pleasure. You knew that Eddie would slip inside you without any resistance. You needed him too much. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re spoiling me today.” Eddie giggled, staring up at you through heavy lids. “Do I get all this because I was friendly with the gang?” He settled back into your pillows and basked in the warm embrace of your cunt. 

You mewled at the feeling of being so full - it may have sounded shallow, but you loved his cock so goddamn much. “You were just so damn polite to ‘em. It’s hot seeing you be all sweet and caring.” 

“They’re important to you, ‘course I’m gonna be polite.” Eddie laughed. “They’ve taken care of you for ages, and now it’s my job to help out, right?” He smoothed his thumbs across your hips. 

“Eddie…” you sighed, caressing his face. His dreamy, beautiful, smug face. He was just so good to you and to the world. It always hurt that you were one of the few who truly understood that he had a heart of gold, in addition to being a weirdo. But he was your weirdo. “Love ya, Munson.” 

After your tooth-rotting words reached his ears, you started to grind down onto his stiff length. Eddie couldn’t do much, but he groaned in agreement with you. He never knew how good being ridden could feel without any bouncing. Sure, he adored when you bounced on his cock, chasing your high and fueling his, but there was a sensuality to the circle of your hips. The sight of you making his cock massage your g-spot was one he wanted to be tattooed behind his eyelids.

“How you doing down there, sweetheart?” You smiled, alternating between bouncing and swivelling. He had to give him some form of reward, “please soak my face,” that was such a good line. Damn, he was good.

Eddie let out a shaky groan and stared at where his cock disappeared into your cunt. When you called him sweetheart, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The flush that covered his upper body was rosy and fiery. “Fabulous as always.” He chuckled and shot you a bright grin. “I really don’t tell you enough how much I love your pussy. And she loves me.” 

“You’re so weird,” You snorted, running your hands through the sparse hair on his chest. “She’s gonna care really good care you.”

Eddie started to wonder if god finally decided to smile down on him as you started to ride him properly. The wet squelch of fucking filled his ears alongside your beautiful laughs and moans. He could see the slick from your cunt on his throbbing cock as you moved. Watching you in your element, so happy, on top of him, was hypnotic. Eddie would never cease to be mesmerised by you and your body. He began to thrust his hips up to meet your carefully curated rhythm.

Your head fell back, and your jaw swung open when you met at the perfect angle, at the perfect time. “Oh. My god - yeah, yes, Ed-” you called out. You were so happy that both of your parents had taken night shifts.

Eddie’s thrust began more forceful, faster, as he moved to push his feet into your mattress for leverage. He was a sweaty, whining mess under you, but he was still going to try and do a little bit of the work. “Uh huh, use me. Fuck, fucking shit - cum on me again.” He was rambling like a horny maniac, smiling like one too. He was having the time of his life. A pretty lady who loved him and had cute stuffed animals was riding him until he wanted to scream. What more could a dude ask for?

“Don’t stop - don’t stop talking. Fuck.” Yeah, you were losing your mind. Sex with Eddie always came with a satisfaction guarantee, but it was his dirty mouth that sealed the deal for you most of the time. “Does my pussy feel good?”

The harsh slapping of his balls hitting your ass richoted off the walls. Eddie wasn’t going to be lasting much longer by any means. “So - so good. She’s leaking all over me, such a good girl.” 

Now he was just trying to be annoying. It was working very well.

“Am I a good girl too?” You groaned, lightly gripping Eddie’s jaw so he could look you in the eye. The pace of your fucking had reached its peak. How you were still speaking in sentences was a mystery. Eddie was hitting your g-spot at the best angle and slipping deeper inside you every time you slammed your hips down. 

“Yeah, f-fuck. But, you’re a woman too.” Eddie slurred, loving the feeling of you keeping his eyes fixed on you. His left hand moved between you to rub your swollen clit in fast circles. Again, sensuality is what really did it for him. He would call you a good girl until he was blue in the face. But it was the fact that you were a full woman that warmed his blood - and his heart. All soft body, whispy hair everywhere, and markings on your skin showing how you’d grown into the person he got to love. “Mine,” he whined the word like prayer.

“‘M your woman, huh?” This was going to be over soon, but you needed a few more words out of him. “Then you’re my man, all mine.” You leaned down to whisper straight into his ear, followed by a long lick up the column of his throat - tasting the salty sweat dripping off of him.

“Oh, oh god - yeah, ‘m yours, baby.” Eddie grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a scolding kiss. All tongue and saliva, but neither of you cared. This is always how it went. Right when you were both on the precipice of orgasm, start making out furiously. His cock was pounding into you, trying to mould your puffy walls to the shape of him. Eddie could feel his heart hammering and his eyes rolling back - he was almost there and so were you.

“All. Yours.” Eddie punctuated each word with a hard, impossibly deep thrust. Then he was a goner. Shooting ropes of cum into the condom and moaned like a girl in the porn he watched sometimes. 

You could feel the pulsing heat of him in your stomach. His nimble fingers were still focused on your clit. He always knew how to make you melt. So, melt you did. The world exploded into white, and you screamed into Eddie’s neck as your orgasm shook your body. 

The aftershocks of bliss left you both shaky and panting like you had run a marathon. You had already collapsed on Eddie’s chest as he started rubbing your scalp with his calloused fingers - the added roughness provided a good scratch. Your heart was hammering like his, each keeping pace with the other in the afterglow of that near-religious experience. You snuggled into his touch and trailed your fingers down the bridge of his nose, feeling his beauty and memorising the dips and peaks of his face - for what may have been the hundredth time.

Eddie shifted to catch your wandering hand and covered it in small pecks up to your wrist. “So, you got any more members of the gang to introduce? I’d love an audience with a penguin if I’m being honest.”