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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days ago

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@zepskies

Hello my beautiful friend! I am SO ready to dive back into this series!

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too? You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says. Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—” “Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating. “The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

No, NO, No. Dean NO.

Bad Dean!

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!!

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate? You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester: For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach. Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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wheels-of-despair · 1 day ago

Text

Tangled Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets a comb stuck in his hair. Evil Woman untangles it, and a little bit of his tragic backstory comes out with it. Contains: A minor tantrum, a sad Eddie, a little hair lore, and our boy being loved and taken care of. Words: 1.2k Note: This takes place during their first winter together.

"FUCK!"

A loud clatter follows the yell from behind the closed bathroom door, making you jump from your position on the Munson's couch.

You're sitting there in borrowed sweats, watching a Mork & Mindy rerun while you wait for Eddie. You'd spent most of the day playing in the snow with the neighborhood kids, and had both required about a gallon of hot chocolate and a warm shower to recover. The girls had won the final snowball fight, which meant you earned the first shower. (He probably would've let you go first even the boys had won, but you're counting it as a victory shower anyway.)

When you don't hear anything else, you rise and slowly approach the bathroom door. Silence. You knock lightly. "Eddie? You okay?"

The door slowly creaks open, revealing a pair of worn burgundy sweats, a faded Hellfire Club shirt, half of a black comb stuck in a tangle of matted hair, and the most pathetic puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"You okay?" you ask again.

"Comb got stuck," he says miserably.

"Want me to get it out?"

Eddie squirms, looking like he wants to wash himself down the drain. He turns toward the mirror and gives another feeble attempt at getting the comb out. You lean against the doorframe, waiting for him to ask for help, and your eyes drift to the bathtub. All of the bottles that usually sit on the ledge are scattered across the bottom of the tub. He must've thrown something and knocked them all down. Maybe you should take him bowling sometime.

Eddie sighs, releases the comb, and hangs his head in defeat. Looking at the floor, he turns to you and nods his head slowly.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assure him, as quietly as you can. "C'mon." You tilt your head toward the living room and start walking, hoping he'll follow.

You slide the coffee table to the side, drop a pillow on the floor for him to sit on, and take your seat on the couch. You gesture for him to sit between your legs. He does, reluctantly. You want so badly to know what's actually wrong, you feel like you may burst… but you know better than to ask.

You reach for the comb embedded in his wet hair without a word, and he flinches. You rest your hands on your knees instead.

You play with his hair all the time. When you watch movies, his head often ends up on your lap, and your hands gravitate to it. He gets the cutest little smile on his face when you tuck his hair behind his ear. You know for a fact that rubbing light circles on That One Spot on his scalp will put him right to sleep. Why is this different?

"You okay?" you ask.

"Yeah."

"You know I'm gonna try my very best not to hurt you, right?"

"Yeah." His voice is hollow. Emotionless.

You carefully reach for the mass of tangles and the buried comb again. He tenses, but doesn't flinch. You begin working it out, piece by piece, taking your time and focusing all your energy on keeping it painless while the laugh track on TV keeps the room from falling into awkward silence.

When you finally get the comb out, you set it aside and reach for your own brush. Starting at the ends, you gently work out all the rest of Eddie's tangles. The whole process takes nearly an hour, and he doesn't move a muscle the whole time.

"Alright, you're done," you finally declare, setting your brush aside. He heaves a sigh of relief, and you lean down to kiss the top of his head.

He turns sideways and rests his chin on your knee. You cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb across his flushed cheek, and he closes his eyes. Just when you think he's fallen asleep, he heaves another sigh and starts talking.

"My mom used to brush my hair when I was little. Her brush had those hard, scratchy bristles that felt like wire." He swallows, but still doesn't open his eyes. "My hair wasn't this long, but I used to play outside all day. To get away from them, mostly. But when I came home at dark, she'd make me stand in front of her in the kitchen so she could brush it. She'd yank and pull at it and brush my neck and my ears and my forehead. I think it actually drew blood once or twice. If I moved or complained, she'd put me over her knee and use the other side."

You didn't realize your hand had stopped stroking his cheek until he stopped talking. You move it to his shoulder, still a little damp from his hair, and give him a light squeeze.

"One day, after she died, I went in the bathroom with scissors I stole from school and cut it all off. Well, I tried. They were dull and kid-sized. Dad laughed at me when he saw it. Made me go to school like that. The nurse finally took pity on me and evened it out after a few days."

He crawls onto the couch and lays his head on your lap, facing the TV. Normally in this position, your hands would be in his hair immediately, but today… you hesitate. Although he can't see you do it, he must sense it. He puts his hand on your knee, palm up. You take it, and place your other hand on his arm in a gesture you hope is comforting.

"When I came to live with Wayne, he'd give us both a buzz cut on the first of every month. The noise from the clippers scared the shit out of me at first, but after watching him do his own a few times, I finally let him do mine. I didn't start growing it out again 'til the summer I graduated from middle school. That's when I decided nobody was gonna fuck with it. And nobody was gonna fuck with me."

He lets go of your hand and flips onto his back, staring up at you.

"Kay, that's the whole traumatic hair story you didn't ask for."

You smile and reach for his hand again.

"It doesn't bother you when I play with it?"

"Not gonna lie… scared the hell out of me the first time," he chuckles. "Usually, when a girl goes for the hair, it's to pull it or stick something in it. One time, a girl dragged me across the playground with it. But you? Just started twirling it and playing with it and putting me to sleep. Didn't ever want you to stop. Couldn't fucking believe it."

You feel your heart warm at his confession, and finally let your hand return to that beautiful head of hair. Your fingers lightly work at his scalp, and he smiles sleepily up at you.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" You know he knows, but you need him to hear it. "Unless it's like… in a kinky way that you specifically request."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirks.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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sprinklenoodles · 16 hours ago

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I think that out of all 3 movies, Sonic 1 Robotnik is my fav if we don’t look at the fact that he’s supposed to be, well, Robotnik. Like, sure, he’s not the most game accurate, but if we don’t look at that, I do just like him better.

In the first movie he obviously hasn’t gone crazy just yet. But not just that, he seems more rational, more confident. He doesn’t want revenge like in the second movie nor is it like anything in the third movie, he is just interested. There’s an alien on Earth and he wants to get to know all about it.

And while he is technically working for the government, it’s clear he couldn’t care less about that. He does his own thing and sees them as nothing but idiots- well, with the exception for one… for the most part.

It’s clear that before Sonic he had never lost, that he had never failed. He truly was the smartest person on Earth, and nobody could stop him or even try to contain him. If anything, it’s a wonder he’s working for the government in the first place.

And then there’s his relationship with Stone because of course I have to talk about that too. We don’t see a lot of them, especially Stone just sorta… disappears, but their dynamic is really interesting, especially when they’re around others.

Like, Agent or not, but we see from the very start that Stone is loyal to Robotnik, immediately ‘translating’ for him. And then Robotnik asks if he ‘can feel it’. It’s a very small thing, but we can clearly see that Robotnik values Stone more than anybody else, at least from what we’ve seen so far.

And then when we see Robotnik analysing Sonic’s footprint, he explains everything to Stone, even moving out of the way so he can see it clearly. He does also insult Stone is this scene, yet it seems more… mild compared to the insults he gives to other characters, something that continues for the rest of the movie.

Stone is also always next to him. Not behind him like all of the other agents, but always next to him. It’s a small detail for sure, but one I did just want to point out.

And honestly, there’s even more than that. I could most definitely go into more dept if you guys want, but I also want some sleep, so… Gonna have to leave it here for today. I just really like his character in Sonic 1, mostly because it’s just so different from the Robotnik we have almost everywhere else.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie #doctor robotnik #agent stone #stobotnik #character analysis #sonic movie 1

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floralcyanide · 2 days ago

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ᴡɪɴᴇ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ — ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

cillian murphy x fem!reader (nsfw)

you and your best friend Cillian get wine drunk to celebrate his new role.

✣ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, drinking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, nipple play, female anatomy described, no prep, (not proof-read at all sorry oops)

✣ word count: 1.5k

✣ author’s note: this is short and sweet and I wrote a quarter of it like a year and a half ago and wanted to finish it when I stumbled upon it in my docs. I hope yall enjoy and happy new year (:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You always told yourself you’d never go after someone who didn’t want you fully. They had to want your everything, love your everything, and show it. Yet here you are, in your best friend’s bed, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. And wondering whether or not this was just a one-night type of thing. Even if it is, everything about your friendship has definitely changed.

It started as a typical night at Cillian’s, sharing a bottle of wine and discussing roles he wanted to play this coming year. He already snagged a role as Johnathan Crane in the upcoming Batman movie, and you were beyond proud of him. But with the dim lights, candles lit, and the wine warming the two of you up, there was an undeniable tension in the room. A tension that had been building for a while and was now spilling into the night. Cillian was sitting across from you on the couch, leg crossed over the other. You were curled up, knees to your chest, as you sipped your wine. He stared at you, his gaze unwavering. You stared back, searching his eyes for an inkling of his thoughts. Warmth spread through your limbs and across your face as his eyes darkened.

“What’s on your mind, love?” Cillian asked, his voice slightly raspy.

You cleared your throat, biting your lip and keeping eye contact, “You.”

“Really?” Cillian hummed, “What about me?”

You unravel your arms and legs, crawling over to where he was sitting, “Just you.”

Cillian pushed his hair from his face, looking you up and down with drowsy eyes.

“Gonna keep it a secret, huh?” Cillian chuckled, reaching a hand out to touch your hair.

You watched as he twirled it around his finger, “Maybe,” you looked back up at him, “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” Cillian blinked at you, “But I’m not gonna hide it.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose before groaning and covering your face with your hands, “Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what to you?” Cillian asked, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Tease me,” you huffed, “What are you getting at here?”

“Maybe it’s the wine talking or the fact you look absolutely perfect right now,” Cillian said, keeping your hands in his as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, “But I need you.”

You froze, “Need?”

Cillian looked down, laughing, before he set his eyes back on you, “Yes. I fucking need you, darling.”

You needed him to spell it out for you. So, you looked at him, puzzled. Cillian’s hands moved to your hips, pulling you onto his lap.

“So,” Cillian massaged your skin through your comfy pants, “What about me were you thinking of?”

“How proud I am of you and how good you look in these sweatpants,” you blushed.

Your mind was swimming from the wine, and you knew you were treading in dangerous waters by being so outrightly flirty with your best friend. But you no longer cared because he was now flirty with you, too.

“Ah,” Cillian smiled, “I knew there was something naughty floating around up here,” he carded his fingers through your hair, scratching at your scalp playfully.

“And how did you know, exactly?” you wondered out loud.

“I see how you look at me,” Cillian whispered, pulling his hands from your hair and putting them back on your hips, “With a burning desire.”

You gulp nervously. Was it that obvious?

“Is that so?” you quirk an eyebrow, your shaky voice shrouding any faux confidence you were displaying.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Cillian leans into the side of your head, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his hips into your core; the feeling of him hardening underneath you makes your skin prickle, “I feel the same way about you.”

“Really?” your voice cracks, and you inwardly wince at your nervousness.

“Really,” Cillian replies, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, his tongue gliding down until he reaches your lobe, gently nibbling on the flesh.

Your hands that were by your side, afraid they’d shake, slowly wrapped around Cillian’s neck. He travels down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses as he occasionally licks your skin, relishing in your scent and taste. You give your hips an experimental swivel, and Cillian groans into your neck as he grows harder against your clothed core. He begins to toy with the hem of your shirt, sliding his hands underneath the fabric to feel your warm skin.

You wordlessly remove your shirt, tossing it to the floor. Cillian tries his best to keep his eyes glued to yours instead of letting them roam your body. But when you let your hands wander behind your back to unclasp your bra, Cillian fails at his task. His palms move from your sides to your bare breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, causing them to harden. You moan quietly at the feeling, and he repeats the action. Cillian squeezes your breasts as he toys with them, your back arching in pleasure. Before you can react, Cillian latches his warm mouth onto one of your nipples, provoking you to let out a whimper as he laps at the bud with his tongue.

Without much thought, you grind down on him. This elicits a moan from Cillian, causing a vibration against your delicate skin. While his mouth is on one nipple, his fingers play with the other, and every few seconds, he’ll switch which one is rolled by his teeth. Your hands find Cillian’s hair, but only for a moment. He tugs at your pants, and you slide off his lap to remove them in haste. While you do so, Cillian slips off his shirt and sweatpants, and you can’t help but notice the bulge in his underwear. It’s been a while since your last sexual endeavor, and you hope he can fit inside you.

Cillian pulls you back onto his lap, and the thin fabric of your underwear is the only barrier between him and you. You put your hands on his chest as you bare down on his cock, bucking your hips back and forth. Cillian grips your hips softly as he guides you along him, his eyes cloudy with lust as he stares into yours, also clouded with desire. Cillian halts your movements. If you keep going, he’s going to cum in his underwear. You hover over him as he pulls down his last item of clothing, and you hurriedly shimmy yours off as well. Resuming your previous position, you grind your clit against Cillian’s hardened cock, feeling yourself grow wetter. Cillian bites his lip as he watches you pleasure yourself on him.

It doesn’t last long, however. Cillian pulls you up so he can place his tip against your entrance.

“Is this good?” he asks, his fingernails tracing shapes on your hips.

“This is great,” you smile, placing your hand on the back of his neck, “I want this.”

Cillian presses his fingertips into the flesh on your thighs as he pushes himself into you slowly. You sigh as the feeling of fullness burns delightfully until he’s fully seated inside you. You bite your lip as you adjust to Cillian’s girth. It’s everything you had hoped for in your imagination.

“You’re so tight,” Cillian groans, his head leaning back on the top of the couch, but his eyes are still level with yours, “Feels so good.”

You wiggle your hips to move him further into you, and you both moan at the feeling. Cillian pulls out slightly before pushing back in, gaining a rhythm as your wet cunt welcomes him, his length moving in and out of you with ease. You move your body along with his, grinding your hips on his as you fuck. Your head is nothing but lustful mush from the wine and the feeling of Cillian dragging inside you. Cillian isn’t far off, his brain buzzing from the alcohol and how you clench around him with every thrust.

Cillian grasps your breasts as you begin bouncing on his cock, your heavy breathing and moans making him desperate to cum inside you. He has always wondered how it would feel to fill you up with his cum, whether it be your cunt or your mouth. Soon, he won’t have to wonder.

“I’m gonna cum, Cill,” you whine, your hips stuttering from the exertion.

“Gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Cillian groans, driving his length into you even faster, “Want me to cum inside? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you whimper without missing a beat, “Please cum in me, I want you to fill me up,”

“Good girl,” Cillian sighs, feeling himself grown closer to his orgasm.

You cum a lot quicker than expected, thanks to Cillian’s praise. You tremble as you fuck yourself on his cock until your body goes limp. You allow Cillian to continue, purposefully clenching around him to spur him on.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, Cillian,” you purr, bouncing your overstimulated cunt along his throbbing cock.

With one final thrust, Cillian spills into you with a gasp. You’re both sweaty, out of breath, and high with bliss. You can’t help but laugh.

“What?” Cillian’s face breaks into a smile, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “I just wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight, is all. I’m glad it did, though.”

Cillian moves your hair out of your face, “Me too.”

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x you smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #floralcyanide writes

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loverangels · 2 days ago

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a cliche kiss

pairings: tasm!spiderman x fem!reader

a/n: this was requested however I changed the character since I no longer write for the character that was requested. I hope you enjoy!

It was usual to have spiderman- well Peter not that you knew it was him- sprawled on your bed, fatigued by his patrolling whilst you sat by your desk talking to him whilst completing school work . It was just a usual occurrence ever since you had kept bumping into the vigilante, you soon became a kind of friend and nurse of the spandex hero.

"Okay, so I was thinking about going to the movies tomorrow," you said without looking up from your book. "What do you think?"

"Are you inviting me to the movies?" peters voice was playful, though the mask hid any trace of his expression. You could tell he was smirking by the way his words drifted in the air. “I’m honored.”

You rolled your eyes, finally looking up at him. “I don’t know if I want to go to the movies with you, bug boy. You might ruin the popcorn.”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “You wound me. I would never ruin popcorn. That’s a crime.”

“Yeah, sure,” you teased, turning back to your homework. “It’s just the superhero ego talking.”

There was a pause. A soft rustling sound from him shifting on the windowsill. You glanced up, catching him staring out the window, his fingers twitching as if he was about to leave.

It was easy to joke around with him, but soon you noticed him standing up straighter, his attention drifting toward the window. The change in his posture was enough for you to realize something was off.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting your pencil down.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, but there was something about his tone that didn’t sound quite right. “Just gotta go. Big situation downtown. You know the drill.”

Your heart tightened. “You always say that. What's really going on?”

He didn’t turn to face you, but his voice softened a bit. “I’ll be fine, Trouble. Nothing you need to worry about. I just need to handle it, okay?”

You couldn’t hide the worry that was bubbling up inside you. You hated when he acted like it was nothing. “But what if—”

“Don’t worry,” he cut you off, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Your chest felt tight as he started to make his way toward the window, his movements smooth and practiced. You stood up, biting your lip, not wanting him to leave. “Be careful, alright? I mean it, bug boy.”

He froze, his back still turned to you. Then, he said something that made your heart flutter just a little. “You know I always am, Trouble.”

For a moment, peter didn’t move. He seemed to be considering something, and then, with a soft smile, he said, “Thanks, Trouble. I’ll be fine.”

He was just about to crawl up the side of the apartment building when you leaned out of your window, heart pounding in your chest. You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment, the words caught in your throat. But you couldn’t just let him go without saying something, not after everything.

"Hey, Bug Boy," you called, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

He paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you, the shadows of the night playing across his mask. Without a word, he cast a web and began to slowly lower himself, inching down toward you. His movements were fluid and effortless, and in no time, he was hanging upside down, his head level with yours, his legs suspended by the web.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you pushed through it. With a shaky breath, you reached up and slowly pulled his mask back, just enough to reveal his lips.

Your heart raced as you leaned forward, pressing your lips gently against his. It was brief, just a soft, sweet kiss, but it left you breathless. When you pulled back, you could barely meet his eyes, your face flushed, the tips of your fingers still tingling.

peters spidermans’s lips tugged into a soft, knowing smile, one that you could just make out through the shadows. You noticed the faint pink cast on his cheeks—he was blushing, too.

"What was that for?" he asked, his voice low, teasing.

You shrugged, biting your lip again, a little shy. “Oh, just... good luck.”

His smile widened, and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “I think I might need some extra good luck before I go,” he said, his voice soft and warm.

Before you could respond, he reached out, removing one hand from the web and cupping your face gently. He kissed you again, this time deeper, a little longer, sending a thrill through your body. When he pulled back, he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just for a moment.

“I’ll see you later, honey,” he murmured with a wink, his grin still playful.

With that, he swung away, disappearing into the night, leaving you standing at the window, heart still racing, your lips tingling from his touch.

#fem!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm fluff #tasm spiderman #the amazing spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman

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moustawott · 2 days ago

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I am so fucking VINDICATED

(From the movie’s draft script, link to the full animatic at the end of the post)

I’m so upset this movie couldn’t have been just a little more obvious about Orion’s beliefs, cuz the final version does look (at first glance) like Orion is playing out the trope “nooo, we can’t kill the fascist bad guy bc killing bad”

The only reason why I picked up on the writers’ og intentions was thanks to the way D-16 was built up: it’s very, very clear that he wants to kill Sentinel only for self-satisfaction and not true justice

I think the reasons so many have misunderstood that scene were:

A. The writers not being obvious enough with Orion who’s fine with Sentinel dying, he just doesn’t want D-16 to commit murder for self-satisfaction (the movie novelization and this animatic don’t have the same problem)

B. Americans love punishment in their justice system (and online “progressive” fandoms too, I can talk about this for hours lol). A major reason why death penalty still exists in the US is because of this kind of attitude where people will seek self-satisfaction and virtue signalling above true, restorative justice. This is why people support D-16’s way of thinking so much. But Orion is right: a functional—ideal—society can’t be executing people like that, everyone must have a chance for redemption, because if we draw a line between those who deserve and those who don’t, the line will always move in a way to fuck over some random unlucky people eventually

C. People are projecting too much IDW Megatron unto TFOne Megatron. Like, sure, IDW Megatron is based and Coptimus is cursed, but this ain’t the case in TFOne 😭 like at all 😭 D-16 is obviously meant to reflect right-wing thinking (he joins the High “might is right” Guard for fucks sake)

Blah blah something something poor literacy and people lacking the ability to infer/interpret stuff and needing everything spelled out, especially with movies where there’s not just textual info but also visual storytelling + pre-existing tropes that taint our perception of this story

#transformers #transformers one #optimus prime #orion pax #megatron #tfone meta #TFOne analysis

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icarusredwings · 3 days ago

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Toast

(Yeah, he got the hello kitty toaster)

Sfw poolverinessa sick-ficlet

Cw: implied past eating disorder and cancer related puking

Vanessa never really knew why, but some days, Wade ate a lot of toast. Sometimes half a loaf. He would visit the bathroom often and come back smelling clean. Minty or lemon scented.

He'd smile and say "Why not? I like toast." When asked why but secretly she wondered if there was more to it.

It wasn't until Logan came around that she finally figured it out.

Here, in the morning, Wade had toast for breakfast. Simple really. Just two slices with jam. She had noticed Logan's gestures moved away from the lunch plans they were talking about.

"What about that place on 6th street?" He has said before, but now was suggesting a movie marathon at home.

What had changed? Within a wordless instant, they had taken lunch off the table.

"Maybe for dinner?" She asks, getting a curious look from Logan and a smile from Wade. Subtle enough to be unnoticeable if you hadn't been with him for the last 10 years.

"Yeah! Maybe. I heard they take reservations, though." Was all that was said, but Vanessa squinted, peering into those deep yellows, searching for any sort of falsification.

"Yeah... maybe." She repeats, only for him to glance back at Logan, taking a big bite of the toast. "So what movies are we gonna watch? Whatever you want. I'm not picky." Wade says, another sharp bite.

"What? Oh yes, you are." The scuff man smirks. "You're prissier than a lil miss pretty in pink pagent show."

"And I think you've been spending too much time with Rouge." Wade giggled. "What do you think V?"

"I think hes right. You ARE prissy and petty... And pathetic."

"Oi, you love pathetic men." He says, shoving the rest of the toaste in his mouth, jam falling down his chin.

Rolling her eyes, Vanessa kisses his lips, licking the jelly off. "That I do.. and you smell.. different." The tone it's said in is suspicious. Because it kinda was.

"I changed my body wash. This one's supposed to be gentle on skin. Wolvie said it would be better for me, but I think it smells like ass."

"It's irratant free." Logan budded in, taking a sip of his soda. "Which includes those perfumes."

"Look peanut, you might be able to get away with being all naturel with your manly wolvie musk but I smell like death." Wade says, eating the other toast.

"That's kind of an insult to Death, isn't it?" She asks, shifting to grab the remote, scrolling through their options.

"Oh definitely. She smells like fresh bloomed flowers after it rains." He mutters, filled with longing and well- Toast.

"Well, don't go dying on us just to see her, 'kay bub?" It's taken as a jabe, this serious statment was. As all things were to Wade, who only laughs, getting up.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, you two choose. Don't have too much fun without me." He says, heading off to the bathroom.

Hm. Nothing seems out of place just yet. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she had a feeling something was wrong.

When Wade returned, he smelt of artifical mint and that gross cheap spray that gas stations used in their bathroom. The lemon kind that smelled more like chemicals then actual lemons.

Ood, but not unusual. Maybe they just got minty bar soap. Who knows. Though she didn't remember seeing any.. huh.

____

Later, just as they were starting the second movie, Logan had brought a big bowl of buttery pop corn and again a plate of toast. This time buttered.

"Hold on. I gotta go to the bathroom again. You know. Kidney cancer shit. Go ahead and start without me." Wade says, waving them off as he leaves.

Blinking, for a second, Vanessa wondered. This was his 6th time going to the bathroom already and not every time, but most times, he would be in there for a good couple of minutes.

"Is he okay?" She asked Logan, who shrugged, having the toast in his lap, holding it. "About as okay as he'll ever be I guess."

"Soo no. Got it.. hey, can I ask you something?" Vanessa scoots a little closer, quieting down her voice as the starting credits play on the tv.

"If it's what I think, the awnser is no."

"What? No! Not that. God... men. I was gonna ask.. Why does Wade eat so much toast? Doesn't it give him a stomach ache? I thought he was allergic to gluten for a while." She adds, whispering.

Logan now tilts his head, giving her a stupid look only to soften into a 'Oh yeah' expression. "Right.. not everyone has my nose. My bad. Wade eats a bunch of toast because it settles and soaks up his stomach acid. Mentioned something about 'it's better to have something to throw up then nothing at all' too, which I hope is about the stomach cancer and not.. nevermind." He waves his hand, shaking his head. "It's true, though. Trust me, I've threw up a ton as a kid, and it was always better to have something in there."

"So... every time he..." She gestures to the bathroom vaugey with her hand. "He's.. puking?"

"Yeh.. kind of suprised you didn't know already. Though.. I guess it makes sense." Logan mutters, thinking.

"He's been hiding it from me.." It's a statement as if realizing this on her own, now processing.

"It's not really your fault. He physically can't hide it from me.. I can smell it. I can smell him crying and hear him brushing his teeth too." He mutters, looking at the bathroom door, that now clicks open and out comes a freshly cleaned up Wade, smiling that fake, appeasing grin.

Vanessa goes silent about the subject, only scooting back over and patting his seat between them. "You're just in luck. The movie just started."

Coming over, Wade sits between them, pulling his feet up to tuck under Logan's ass with a cheeky grin.

"Here. Eat." He mutters, handing the toast plate to Wade, who immediately begins to eat it.

"Ooh! Wolvie you salted it like I like!" He coes, shifting to lean agaisnt him, nuzzling his cheek.

"Mhm. I remember. Also... Vanessa wants to ask you something."

Her eyes widden, looking at Logan with that 'bitch!?' Look only to smile nervously, brows going together in a sense of tensity.

"Yes!" Wade boarderline chants.

"No! Not that! God.. you both are disgusting. I... I wanted to ask... Why did you feel the need to hide it from me-"

"Hide what? He immediately asks, cutting her off.

"The fact that you're throwing up........again.."

The volume of the pause is deafening. Enough for Wade's fake grin to drop, instantly turning to Logan as if he had just cut his heart out and sold it to the goverment (fuck the goverment, a voice echoed in his head)

"Why did you- i-.. I don't know what you're talking about." He laughs, forcibly.

Both of his partners stare at him, quiet and not finding this behavior any funny.

"I'm not! Ness I-i don't-"

"Wade..." Logan mutters, giving him a look.

Tearing up, Wade shifts, tensing and holds his plate tight. "B-but I'm not!!... not like that. I-i swear! I-..." a couple tears fall down his cheeks as Logan rubs his back, taking the chance of being injured. "Logan helped me get better."

This confession hurts to say. Ness knows it. The way his voice tightened and how panicked he got.

"That's.. not what I meant, sweetie."

"Oh...OH.. well fuck.. I- c-Cause it's fucking disgusting?? Why would I want you to worry 'bout me anyway? I don't need anyon' to carry my burdens for me. I can do it myself. A-and look mighty sexy doing it!" He says, wiping his eyes and sniffling, seeming to stop crying now that it was clarified.

"He's right about that last bit.. how you make insane seem sexy is beyond me." The flirt from Logan makes Wade smile, which is all that was needed at the moment.

"Pfft- like you're one to talk.."

"Wade, Sweetheart. You are not a burden and neither is your bullshit. Logan might have married you first but your bullshit is still my bullshit. Yeah?"

"V, I'm already the phyco guy who looks like half raw half burnt bacon, okay? I don't need to be known as 'the guy that pukes all the time' too."

She blinks, a little taken aback. "..Is that how you think we see you?" Taking his hands, she starts to talk, but Logan interrupts.

"That's a lot of words for 'Sexy motherfucker with a big mouth and nice ass' but sure. Potato patato."

Smiling again, Wade giggles. "Sttoopp... dont stop."

"I won't. But you gotta litsen to her yeah? Or shes gonna go all dommy mommy on you and make you write those affermations again."

"Fuckin' hated that..." Wade mutters, letting her thumbs rub over his rough backroad like hands, over his knuckles and up his wrists.

"And I'll do it again. You look at me and you listen good. You are way more to me then you will ever know. You are ever changing. Evolving. So is my love for you. No, you don't have to tell me every little thing, but telling me you don't feel good shouldn't feel like being a burden. Got it?"

"Mhm.." Wade was looking away, not wanting to look her in the eyes. No, because then he would be forced to see all the truth love in her eyes, proof against all the lies that his mind has made him believe.

"Wade Winston Wilson-" She states.

"Shit... you didn't have to goverment name me.." He whines, looking at her, seeing deep into her soul. She was telling the truth. She loved him. Bullshit and all.

Tearing up again, he makes a whimper sound, lips curling into the biggest frown. "Y-you mean it?"

"Of course I do.. you don't have to hide what's going on, baby.... now come lay on my tits and watch a medicore overhyped movie." She grins, shifting to let Wade curl into her, an arm wrapped around him, petting his head.

Logan scoots closer, putting an arm around them both, Holding the popcorn, smiling. Finally. Someone had shoved some sense into that stupid head of his. Maybe now he'd stop lying about having to pee so much.

Settling into their cuddle pile, Wade fells better, the toast filling his stomach, love in his heart, and eyes dry.

".....I have to puke again." He mutters, not even an entire 45 seconds of being in their grasp.

Both Vanessa and Logan sigh, letting him get up. "At this point just bring the trashcan, bub."

"I would, buuut you might mistake it for me-"

"Damn it, Wade!!"

#cancers a bitch #vanessa carlysle #poolness #poolveriness #poolverinessa #sickfic #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #worst wolverine #when my mom had stomach cancer this is all she would eat some days.#ficlet

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edward-munson · 2 days ago

Text

i'm right here - E.M. * Chapter Three

Warning: angst, slight mention of smut (MDI), mentions of the Upside Down, fluff

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem! Harrington reader

Word count: 6.4k

Previous Chapter

⋆˚✿˖°

You feel Eddie delicately hovering above you, one hand is cupping the side of your jawline, while the other one he uses to hold your waist. You're lying on his bed, both of you had just watched a movie, while eating some snacks and drinking wine. He rubs his thumb against your lower lip, licking his own when he notices how pink it looks under the moonlight.

His breath picks up when he decides to ghost his lips over yours, moving ever so slowly. You can't help but tug on his frizzy curly hair, it's fluffy and it feels nice to touch. When you feel his gentle peck, you close your eyes and savor the moment. It starts slow, and it burns your body.

The heat between your legs starts to grow as soon as he moves his hand from your waist and rests it over your thigh. His breath fans your mouth when he opens his mouth to finally kiss you. His tongue is hot, and it still tastes like the wine he was drinking. You grip the back of his hair and he hisses to your touch, groping and humping you. His hand starts to roam through your exposed skin, and it's inches from touching your heat.

Your underwear starts to bother you and you let out a raspy groan when both of your tongues finally touch. He moans under his breath and his crotch is almost touching against yours. Eddie shifts above you and finally uses one of his ringed fingers to feel your warmth and how wet you are under him.

It's the loud gasp that startles you from your dream, and you wake up feeling dizzy. It was just a dream.

"Shit" You mumble as you feel your heart racing. Your hands are trembling and you feel the sweat stream from your neck down to your chest.

Your legs are opened and you're definitely soaked. It felt so real, you could've sworn he was really there, touching you. As you get up from your bed, you go to the bathroom and wash up your face. This could help a little after that dream. You look at yourself in the mirror and it's like you just had sex. But you didn't, and it frustrates you that now you've gotten to the point of thinking about him even when you're dreaming.

After the gathering a few days ago at your house, you and Eddie weren't being awkward to each other anymore. You would have a small conversation during the class, and when you were sitting together during the breaks. He still seemed a little sad because of Chrissy, but looked better than he did weeks before.

You weren't sure if you should tell your brother, which doesn't seem like a good idea. Well, first because he's a guy. And second, because he's your brother. You just know how you're going to react when you're close to him, and it's going to be awkward again. You didn't want that to happen either.

So, now as you lean against the counter at Family Video, you tap your fingers incessantly over it waiting for Robin to digest what you had just told her. Steve isn't working today, so you use the opportunity to talk to her without him being nosy and inappropriate.

"So... you guys were going at it?" She asks and you nod. Robin nods and leans by your side "Wow. Munson would definitely freak out if he heard about that"

"I know. It would probably be completely weird to be around him at this point"

"Are you sure it was him? It could be, I don't know, Jonathan or that really cute guy from senior year" She tilts her head and ponders about the situation. You laugh.

"I only saw Jonathan like once, and I have no fucking idea who you're talking about" You knit your eyebrows playfully and she agrees, because you still don't know everyone from school. "It was definitely Eddie"

"Definitely me what?" Both you and Robin look astonished as he shows up unannounced behind you.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you take in his sight and you open your mouth, closing it as fast as you can. She clears her throat and gives him a nervous smile.

He's holding two tapes in his hands and looks at the two of you as he waits for a response. Eddie lifts his hands to show Robin he's returning the tapes and drops them at the counter.

"It was, uh– It was you who rented this movie! She wanted to get it as well" She picks up the first tape from the small pile and shakes it in front of you and him.

Your face scrunches up from her improvising, but he doesn't notice it.

He then looks at you and widens his eyes "Since when do you like Scarface?" Eddie seems interested in the thought of you liking these kinds of movies, but you have no idea what the hell it is about.

You shrug and look down at the tape, not wanting to stare at his eyes. It's going to remind you of your dream and you don't want to deal with that right now.

"I don't know, I can change my taste in movies. Right, Rob?" Your eyes throw daggers at her and she shrinks, slumping her shoulders, but still remaining in character.

"Yeah! Definitely, totally! I mean, I like romcoms a lot and Steve always tells me I should watch things like Terminator and shit like that" She starts to ramble and Eddie chuckles at her.

"Okay" He smiles while looking at you and shifts his weight as he looks at Robin next. You feel your cheeks burn under his stare and it's embarrassing "You want the full price or can I pay the rest next week?"

Robin agrees and takes his money, looking at you. She gives you a comforting smile, even though you feel nervous just by standing beside him. Eddie turns his face at you and smiles again.

You smile back at him, your stomach is flipping and you feel your hands sweating. Jesus, this is becoming so hard to stand. It feels as though you're a 12-year-old girl with a crush.

"If you're renting this one, you're welcome to watch with me if you want to" He points at the tape you're holding, his face showing his full grin at you.

You're still in a daze as you look at him, who waits for you to answer his invitation. He's leaning against the counter, while Robin is somewhere else. You chuckle nervously, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear as you hold the tape firmly in your hand, afraid it will fall off.

"Yeah, sure. I'd love to Ed"

He mumbles a "great" and calls out Robin by her last name and she appears from one of the aisles. You just know she was waiting for your moment with him to end so she could show up. He thanks her for the service and greets both of you with a tap on the shoulders. Eddie takes a little longer as he rubs his fingers over your shirt and cocks his head when he says "see you".

"Oh my God, you lovebirds are watching a movie together!" She says it a little louder and does happy jumps like you're still in middle school.

You laugh at her reaction, even though you still feel a little nervous from your interaction with him. Robin says you were going to be fine, that it's okay to feel nervous when you like someone.

In fact, two days later you watched the movie and you were pretty sure you hated it for the most part. Especially because you couldn't focus entirely on the story, and Eddie made sure to pay attention even though he had watched it already. He explained scenes you didn't get, and even paused it when he was away from the TV because he still wanted to be there to watch it with you.

It was in the middle of it that you realized nothing was going to happen, so you tried to feel relaxed and stopped tensing up. He noticed you were nervous, though. When he hung his arm around the couch, barely touching your arms, he could feel how rigid they were and didn't try anything.

He was nervous, too. Eddie hasn't had any movie time with anyone since he started going out with Chrissy. And he barely watched movies with her because she always had an excuse to not see them with him. It was nice to have someone like you who would accept watching it even if you didn't like it. And you told him you didn't, he laughed and said it was okay. You tried to make him believe you really wanted to watch it because you were curious, but maybe he didn't fall for it.

He dropped you off at your house when Steve wasn't there and you almost invited him over. But what for? You were so edgy you couldn't even think of something you both could do besides watching a movie. So, you hopped off his van and said goodnight. He left a kiss on your forehead before that and it made your heart flutter. This time, he called you sweetheart.

It only made things worse. You didn't know how you would handle your feelings anymore.

Eddie watches over his shoulder as Jason leans against Chrissy while they're sitting at a table at the library. He's working his shift after school, placing a few books on the shelf. He didn't when they came in, but he noticed the giggling she was giving to her partner. When he looked over to his right, he saw them getting pretty close to each other, almost sharing a kiss.

He silently scoffed and rolled his eyes to the back of his head. He was trying to pretend it's not bothering him how they act when they're together in public and it annoys him. Eddie doesn't feel bad because of her anymore, he feels angry at her. He's angry that she wasn't honest with him and that she's just like Jason, only he never realized it before.

Steve spent about two minutes calling out his friend, snapping his fingers beside him but he didn't hear him. Eddie was too absorbed into his own thoughts.

"Eddie!"

"What?" He answered through gritted teeth, now finally turning his head to look at Steve.

"Would you stop looking at them?"

"Yeah, sure. They're just about to swallow each other's tonsils in front of people. But yeah, of course I can" He spits over a sarcastic tone.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning against the shelf and slapping Eddie over his head. "Don't be so fucking dumb, dude"

"I'm just... angry at them. They're absolutely ridiculous. How did I never notice that before?"

Steve glances at him with a knowing look, because he knew Chrissy wasn't meant for him, he knew she wasn't good for his friend. But he didn't want to say anything because it wasn't his right to.

Your brother rests a hand on Eddie's shoulder, comforting him. "Let them be assholes together. You're good without her anyway"

He was right, Eddie was much better without the girl who said so much shit about him before.

Steve invites him to go camping later that night, saying your other friends are also gonna be there. He ponders for several seconds, knowing the lake still gives him shivers and it triggers him, even though it's not Lovers Lake.

"Is little Harrignton going too?" He asks about you and Steve chuckles at how he calls you.

"Yeah, she will"

It makes Eddie nervous to know you're going to be there too. You've never seen him being vulnerable over something so terrifying before, even though he had to deal with his dad doing drugs and leaving him. He got over it.

But the fact he's still remembering the Upside Down and the gate deep in the lake makes his skin crawl and he clenches his jaw at the thought of it. He knows you're a little familiar with the story, but he doesn't want you to know the aftermath of it.

It's the fact that it's so hard for him to deal with, that he thinks no one deserves to deal with that either.

And so it happens. He's trapped in the blue looking Hawkins from the Upside Down. He watches from a distance when the vines from the floor wrap you and pull you down without struggling. Steve is right behind you, screaming your name as he sees Vecna floating above you. Robin tries to shoot flames at him but it only makes him stronger.

One small movement and the Demobats start flying towards Eddie. Not all of them, but a good amount of them. They immediately bite into his skin, ripping off his flesh as he screams louder than he can. Steve doesn't know where he goes. He's in the middle of the fight, deciding what he should do.

"Just go! Go save her! I'm out" Eddie yells. His breath is shaky and he tries to breathe but it's impossible.

And listens to himself screaming painfully as he sees the town crumble to ashes before his eyes. Another bite rips his skin off and he gasps, his throat burns from inside out.

You flinch when he's yelling and your first instinct is to wake him up. Eddie sat up straight, holding a pocket knife against your neck. If it wasn't for your reflex of holding his forearm, he would've stabbed you right there.

Shocked, you looked at him with widened eyes and whispered his name. "It's just me, Eddie. It's me"

His eyes are a mixture of dread, panic and relief. Even though you'd say yes, actually desperate as well, seeing what he was about to do.

You both look at each other panting, eyes fixed and still holding up the knife he was about to drop on the floor.

You hear the noise, he's shaking when he holds tight on your jawline and pulls you for a desperate hug. "Fuck, sorry. I'm so sorry, shortie. I didn't- I didn't mean it"

He has trouble breathing and you notice he's having an asthma attack. If you didn't know better, he's still carrying his inhaler in his backpack. You rush to it and hold it for him, but he's too distracted to do it himself.

You do it for him, he inhales deeply as he tries to focus on the oxygen he needs. He's still shaking really bad and you're pretty sure you're not any different from him. You open your tent so he gets fresh air, watching when Steve, Robin and the others rush to you both.

"What the fuck was that?" Nancy asks worriedly, next to Jonathan.

You don't notice when Eddie and Steve share a look, and your brother finds the pocket knife laying on the floor. You look back to Eddie, who's huddled in the corner, his knees are bent and he rests his elbows over it, covering his face.

You look so lost in the midst of the chaos. Steve helps you up and out of the tent, and Robin pulls Eddie out of it next. He walks out to the opposite direction, lighting a cigarette and nervously fiddling his rings.

"Why does he have a fucking pocket knife while he sleeps?" Was your first question when Steve stood beside you.

He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his hair. He knows why, and he doesn't want you to know why.

"Steve?"

"He, uh-" He scratches the back of his head, squinting his eyes shut.

You wait for him to give you an answer. You look away and see Eddie on the verge of a meltdown. He's definitely struggling with something.

Steve wasn't sure he should tell you. He didn't know if Eddie would accept it. But you've always been his friend, you should know. Not from your brother, though.

He motions his head to his friend, meaning you should go talk to him. You're a little apprehensive of doing so.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you approaching him, timidly. He blows the smoke far from you and takes a deep and sharp breath as you stand next to him, looking out at the lake.

"You good?" You ask, not really sure how to start the conversation.

He chuckles, nervously of course. It's not directed at you, it's because of the situation itself. He throws the cigarette at the lake and turns to look at you. Immediately his eyes become glassy and he can't hold back the huff. It's still a little hard to breathe. But what's worse than that it's the fresh memories of the nightmare he just had.

A few hours ago, when you arrived at the lake, he was pretty sure he would be just fine knowing he was with his friends. It was the first time you were doing something like that since you got back to Hawkins and he was loving it. Eddie tried to focus on having fun and doing camping stuff with all of you. He tried his best to not let the door of the back of his mind let him remember the horrors.

And he did it. Even though a few times he would look into the lake and imagine Vecna would just show up and kill all of you. He shook it off, it was going to be fine. They killed him. You were all fine.

He tried to smoke a lot less because you were there. You were the one who always asked him to stop smoking and he knew it was too hard to let go of the addiction. But for you, he would try. And he did. It was a bit difficult, but he was having fun and laughing his ass off. Playing games was helping him a lot.

Seeing you there helped a lot. For him, though, it was too complicated as well. Because he wanted to be with you, he wanted to go out with you, he wanted to be around you a lot more.

But he couldn't fathom the fact you were the only one "immune" to the whole thing. You were the only one who didn't experience anything like they did, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to protect you, even if it meant not being able to see you more. Even if it meant he couldn't have you like he wished.

Now he stands in front of you. He glances at you and he sees how worried you are, how scared you were when he realized what he was doing. He sees the way you're already trying to be there for him when he doesn't want you to.

Eddie runs his fingers through his hair mercilessly and messes with the curls. He nervously rubs his hand over his chin, not looking directly at you now. He doesn't want to hide things from you, but he doesn't want you to know what happened to him before. He doesn't need to be pitied or treated differently because of that.

But he just knows that if he keeps hiding it from you, it's gonna be worse for him. Sooner or later you'd find out, and demand him an answer.

He does it like he's ripping a band-aid off.

"I have nightmares. Okay? Almost every single damn day"

His words come out bitter, and you're not sure how to react to that. You don't wanna say sorry, because he might have heard that a thousand times.

"I dream about the same thing. I dream about Vecna and the fucking Demobats. They're chewing on me. They're eating me alive" He closes his eyes and you see tears washing over his face.

"It's always so real. I feel them ripping my skin off, I feel the pain. I see Steve there, and I see our friends and they're all helpless. And tonight, it was different. Because, fuck" Eddie lets out a nervous laugh and you watch him intently. "You were there too. And I couldn't save you. I just couldn't"

You take a step closer to him, holding his shaking hands, pulling them closer to you. He doesn't want to look at you, he doesn't look into your eyes. But you stare into his soul and try to take in his pain, because you know it wasn't easy for them. You know Steve dreams about it too, he's always talking about it. But it's not even as bad as it is for Eddie.

He doesn't hold back the tears. He let them fall freely and you dry them with your thumbs. You lean your forehead against his and let him mourn. Maybe that's what he needs, someone to cry on.

"It's... so fucked up. I don't know why I have these nightmares all the time. It feels like I wasn't supposed to come back"

You close your still forcefully and whisper "shut up" to him, but he doesn't. He still complains and says how much he didn't deserve a second chance.

"Eddie, just stop. You don't need to relive it every time. You should see the therapist, get some help. Find some comfort"

He gives you a dry laugh "Easy for you to say, shortie. You don't get to be in my head every fucking day"

"You're right, I don't. But you don't deserve to be in pain and suffer whenever it happens"

You both stay silent. He's just enjoying how close you are and the way you hold his hands and how he leans against you. He tries to absorb your words and works his mind to forget what happened but it's so hard. He hears the sound of the lake and it still makes him shiver. "It's not Lovers Lake. This is not the lake of the gate. He's dead, it's all gone". He thinks.

Steve is watching you from afar. His arms are crossed against his chest and he rummages through his lower lip, because he doesn't know what you're dealing with. He likes to think Eddie is gonna be fine as long as he stays with you, as long as he's around you. He would like to see his friend happy, for once at least. For more than just a few months.

You walk in the tent again, sitting as you wait for Eddie to make himself comfortable over the duvet you spread over the floor. You offered to be the bigger spoon and he laughed. It sounded so adorable coming from him, especially now that he's vulnerable.

He lies on his side, waiting for you to spoon him as you throw an arm around him. You rest your face against his shoulder and smell him. He's always smelling like musk and cigarettes, it's really charming. Even though you hate when he smokes.

Not long after you're both lying there, Eddie shifts and turns to his other side to face you. He places his hand over your face, splaying it out and he rubs his thumb against your soft skin. You hum to the touch and close your eyes.

He likes the sight. He likes the feeling, the touch. His stomach flutters and he feels nauseous in a good way. Eddie presses his lips to your forehead and spends several seconds just like that.

He takes in your smell and tries to lock it inside his brain. When he finally pulls back, he's caught on you looking at him. You smile and he smiles back at you.

"I'm glad you're back, honey" He whispers before scooting closer to your neck, leaning his head over your shoulder as he closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

Eddie feels like everyone is looking at him somehow. He glances at the group of the party people, Jason’s group and the cheerleaders group. They’re all gossips. They’re like vultures looking for a piece of garbage, they just sneak their way into someone’s life and expose them. It’s not different this time.

It seems like they’re whispering behind his back and he doesn’t know why. While Mike rambles about a new D&D campaign, he just keeps trying to listen to whatever anyone else is talking about. He feels his ears burn when Chrissy looks at him and giggles at her cheerleader friend. It bothers him. He whips his head and looks at the table you’re sitting in with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and your brother, but you’re all too distracted to notice it.

Maybe it’s all in his head, maybe he’s too paranoid over something that doesn’t exist. Jason stands from his seat, dumping the rest of his food in the trash, walking towards the aisle where Eddie is sitting. He leans back against a pillar, grinning slightly, his voice casual but loaded with an amused tone.

“You ever wonder what it’s like to just... not sleep, Eddie? I mean, really. Or sleep at peace. That way, you’d never have to deal with those crazy dreams, right?”

Eddie’s hand paused mid air as he lifted his fork. His heart skipped a beat. His nightmares had been getting worse, each one more vivid and unsettling than the last. Jason’s words weren’t an accident, he could tell. He hasn’t told anyone about his nightmares, his friends knew. God, even Gareth knew about them. And you were the last to know.

But you wouldn’t do it, right? Why would you tell anyone? Jason’s smirk deepened as he continued, barely glancing at Eddie, focusing at a blank spot ahead of him.

“I’m sure it’s tough, you know, when you close your eyes and suddenly you're not sure what's real anymore. Kind of like... Dungeons and Dragons?”

Dustin and Mike stare at each other perplexed, Jeff and Gareth do the same, and the four of them share a look. Eddie clenches his jaw, putting the fork on his plate and forcing himself to look at the blond in front of him, who had a mocking smile on his face.

“The fuck are you talking about, you prick?” The metalhead could feel his blood pumping in his ears and his heart was beating so fast, he was almost choking on it.

“Yeah, but it’s probably better than... waking up and realizing you're not in control of anything. It’s all just... slipping away, piece by piece.” Jason chuckled under his breath. “Wouldn’t want to live like that, right?”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tapping against the table. He could feel the heat of Jason’s words seeping into his skin, prickling his nerves. The basketball leader wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was mocking him. Instead, it felt like he was enjoying every second of it because his voice was too smooth, his posture too relaxed, like he had already won some invisible game.

You finally noticed it happening, you didn’t see it before because Jason was being subtle. He wasn’t being loud or conspicuous. He knew what he was doing. And you could see the way Eddie was gripping tight on the table and how the other boys were too uncomfortable on their seats.

“Oh, God. Not again” You murmur and your friends all turn their heads to look at the scene.

Jason was still leaning against the pillar, a smug on his face as he doesn’t actually stare at Eddie, but rather just pushes his buttons. Whatever it was, it made Eddie stand abruptly.

He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape. He wasn’t sure whether he was more frustrated with Jason or with himself for letting him get under his skin. Without another word, he grabbed his tray and walked away, the sound of Jason’s laughter trailing behind him. He looked around carefully, and yes, most groups were looking at him and whispering whatever it was.

Eddie didn’t spend another second in the cafeteria, rushing out and grabbing your arm forcefully during the way, leading you back to the classroom storage. He pinned you to the wall, his brows were furrowed and his mouth was closed on a line. You knew he was mad, you just didn’t know why it was directed at you.

“Did you tell them, Harrington?” Him using your last name wasn’t exactly a surprise. It was his tone that scared you.

You froze for a moment, your back still facing the wall. Your expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. “Tell them what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about” Eddie pressed, his voice thick with frustration. “My nightmares. Did you tell people about them?”

You blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. You took a slight step back, your face turning to something like defense. “What? Eddie, no. I- I didn’t tell anyone about your nightmares. Why would I do that?”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure why it hurt so much, maybe it was because he thought he could trust you, or maybe it was the way the rumors had made their way to him, but the sting was undeniable. “Then how the hell did people find out about them?” His voice was louder now, and he noticed you flinched to his tone.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, now your voice grew louder as you took a step toward him. “I swear, Eddie, I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t even know about them until you told me, and you never gave me permission to share that with anyone.”

Eddie’s eyes searched yours, trying to look for your features to falter. He wanted to believe you, but something in the pit of his stomach twisted as he remembered the way their eyes had shifted when they saw him.

“I- I don’t know, shortie. It’s just… it feels like everyone’s talking about it. Like they know things they shouldn’t” Eddie admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I can’t deal with that.”

Your eyes softened, and you shook your head, your expression showing disappointment. “Eddie, I’m sorry that you’re going through this, but I promise you, I haven’t told anyone. If people know, it’s because of their own assumptions or something they overheard. I never shared anything.”

Eddie looked down, his hand running through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t sure if he felt more betrayed or more embarrassed. “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that people know, or the fact that you think I’d believe you wouldn’t tell anyone”

Your face fell, your lips were trembling slightly. “You think I’d do that to you? After everything? After what we’ve been through?” Your voice cracked, a flicker of hurt flashing in your eyes. “Eddie, I care about you. I would never betray you like that. It’s unbelievable that you think I’d be capable of something like that.”

Your words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, the anger in Eddie’s chest deflated. He felt a sharp pang of guilt, his frustration dissipating as he realized just how deeply he’d misunderstood you. But it didn’t erase the feeling that something was off, something out of his control.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely audible now. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just… I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

You nod, but still you feel like you were punched in the guts. You had never told anything to anyone in that school, let alone something so personal about Eddie. And you look at him, your eyes twitching as they become wet. You didn’t want to just cry because he didn’t believe you, you felt like all these years of friendship didn’t mean anything to him.

“Yeah, right. We’ve been friends for like, what, three weeks right Eddie?” He squints his eyes shut and takes in your sharp answer. He knows he fucked up. “I mean, why would you trust me when I’m a new friend to you?”

You don’t wait for a response as you brush past him, your shoulder pushing him out of the way. He stands there in confusion and frustration. He watches as you leave him alone and disappear out of the room. He kicks the first thing he sees and huffs a loud sigh.

You hated how you wanted to avoid Eddie every day during classes, during the break, and everywhere your friends would go together. Because he was always there, you cross paths in the hallway and he throws a guilty look at you. You know he feels bad, you also feel bad for him, but you can’t stop thinking about the way he confronted you back then.

And Eddie couldn’t stop himself from looking at you, the guilt weighing him down. Why didn’t you just trust her? he thought, frustration bubbling up. She didn’t do anything wrong. But no matter how many times he told himself that, the knot in his chest only grew tighter. That was before he found out Robin talked about it with Vickie, thinking they were alone in the bathroom.

Turns out one of Chrissy’s friends was also there and she did what they would all do. She told them. And now almost the entire school knew about it. Robin just wanted to explain to her girlfriend why Eddie was seeming so off lately, and then she told her. She didn’t know it would end up like that. And now Eddie won’t look at her either, no matter how many times and how much she apologizes to him.

By the time the school day ended that week, Eddie was exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. The guilt, the self-doubt, and the fear of losing you gnawed at him with every step. He watched as you slipped out the door, your pace quickening as if you couldn’t wait to leave.

He told himself he would talk to you tomorrow, that he would apologize and fix things, but deep down, he knew the longer he let this silence sink in, the harder it would be.

When you turned around the corner near the back of the school, you saw him. He was leaning against the wall, the faint smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. He didn’t notice you at first, his head tilted back, his eyes closed, as if the weight of whatever he was carrying was too heavy to hold up anymore.

The sight of him, smoking like this, was strange and you hated seeing him with a cigarette.

“Eddie” you said, your voice sharper than you meant.

He froze, but didn’t turn to face you right away. Instead, he exhaled the smoke and crushed the cigarette under his boot. When he finally faced you, his eyes narrowed slightly, a guarded expression on his face.

“Why are you hiding here?”

He doesn’t look at you for a moment, he shakes his head and mumbles “Nothing”

“Don’t lie” You snap at him, stepping forward, closer to him. “You’ve been acting like a damn ghost. I’m not stupid, Eddie. You thought I told everyone about your nightmares. About what you’ve been dealing with”

“And I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorry I doubted you” When Eddie finally glanced up at you, his eyes were holding tiredness and angriness. Not towards you, but at everything that has been happening. “I’m just trying to keep some distance”

Your sarcastic laugh filled the air. “You’re doing it perfectly, you didn’t even apologize after that day!”

Eddie’s face twisted with frustration, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I don’t want you involved in this mess” he spat, voice thick with emotion. “You don’t get it. If you knew everything, it would just complicate things.”

“Complicate things?” You shook your head, stepping even closer now, too close you’re almost bumping your nose into his. “So you keep me at arm’s length, push me away, all because you think you’re protecting me?”

Eddie’s eyes flickered with something. Maybe it was regret, guilt, maybe even fear. “I didn’t want to bring you into this” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. If you knew what we've all been through, you would understand”

The roughness in his voice caught you off guard. You were angry, sure, but you could see that this wasn’t about mistrust. It was about his own insecurities. And it hurt more than anything.

“Eddie” Your voice softened as you looked deep in his eyes. “You don’t protect me by pushing me away. You don’t protect anyone like that.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his eyes avoiding yours as if he was trying to figure out what to say, or if there was even anything to say. Then, slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, a touch so tender it made your heart skip.

“I’m sorry” He whispered, his thumb grazing your skin softly, almost passionately. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that”

You looked at him, the anger still simmering, but there was something else too. Something softer, something that made the hurt a little easier to deal with. “You’ve got to start trusting me again, Eddie. I’m not like them. I’m not going to turn my back on you”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, the vulnerability in his expression too brutal to ignore. He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, almost like an instinct, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

The world seemed to slow as he leaned in, his breath mixing with yours, the emotion in his gaze nearly too much to handle.

You didn’t pull away, but instead, you held your breath, your heart racing. The space between you both was nonexistent now, the pull so magnetic that it almost hurt. Eddie’s lips hovered near yours for a fraction of a second, the silence screaming louder than anything.

He almost closed the gap, if it wasn’t for Dustin’s loud shriek calling out his name. Like an instinct, you pull back and glance at each other. Your heart is almost beating in your throat and your hands are sweating. Eddie looks at you pleadingly and before he leaves, he kisses you on the forehead and trots to where Dustin is calling him.

You didn’t even know you were holding your breath until you’re out of oxygen.

⋆˚✿˖°

@thegirlthatsfalling @strangemaximoff @readergf @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #joseph quinn fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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razorblade180 · 3 days ago

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Limits

Ruby:Today we talk about limits!

12yo Carmine:Am I going to be sore after this?

Ruby:I thought you liked being sore?

Carmine:Yeah, but we’re like…in the middle of a desert.

Ruby:Turn around.

Carmine:Hmm? *squints*….Okay, maybe five miles from home.

Ruby:First, it’s two, second, I clearly need to teach you distance. Anyways, limits! Everyone has them and they can change with training or other conditions. How many clones can you evenly make?

Carmine: Thirteen. Then I’m three hits away from no aura.

Ruby:Make two.

Carmine:*raising hands*

Ruby:Without your hands.

Carmine:Huh!? I can’t do that!

Ruby:And this is what the lesson is really about. Part of your limits when it comes to semblances is imagination. More often than not, your limits shape what you think is possible. Does that make sense.

Carmine:Ummm…

Ruby:Perhaps it’s better I show you.

The young girl stares at her mother curiously. Slowly, rose petals begin to manifest and float off of Ruby, but she isn’t movie. Before Carmine could ask what is happening, her mother jumps to her left quickly. However, the speed is different from what she’s always seen her mom do. Her body remained visible and though it was incredibly quick, Ruby was moving far slower than normally.

This led to an even stranger occurrence. As she moved around, Carmine caught glimpses of where her mother used to be; moving afterimages that faded as quickly as they appeared.

Carmine:How are you doing that!?

Ruby:Hehe, it’s pretty cool isn’t it? Your mother was sick on a mission one day with her team. Apparently my food got poisoned; robbed me of a lot of my strength. At one point we were surrounded and all I wanted to do was move out of the way so no one would worry about me. I used everything I could to activate my semblance. This is what happened.

Carmine:So…because your physical limitations were way below your norm, when you tried pushing yourself, you found a new move you could’ve been doing all along?

Ruby:That’s about the jest of it. *stops walking* After that, I took time to hone in on this degree of speed. We get so used trying our best that we don’t realize how much in between there could be. AKA, how creative we can get. Let this be your lesson for today. In times of weakness and limitations, you are inspired to find new strength.

Carmine:Do you really think it’s possible for me to make clones without putting my hands together?

Ruby:I think when it’s you, anything is possible. *smiles* All you ever need is someone to make you think about it.

Carmine:….

Ruby:Anyways, there’s a heat advisory today and you have two miles to walk without shade.

Carmine:This is how you wanted to lower my limits!? Heat stroke!?

Ruby:I have water and super speed. You will not die out here. That being said, I’m gonna watch for the porch. *dashes off*

Carmine:Wha- Mom!!!

xxxxxxxx

A few years later

Kovu:Carmine!? Hey! Wake up!!! *shakes her* Eyes open!

15yo Carmine:Why… are you shaking a poison victim?

Kovu:Because you’re trying to go to sleep! We aren’t in the best spot for-

BANG!

A sniper round goes off. Kovu keeps Carmine’s head down as they squat in an abandoned home in Mt. Glenn.

Carmine:I was remembering something. It was annoying. *leans on him* Poison is for bitches. Ugh…

Kovu:I hear three different footsteps faintly. Weird…they all sound like each other; as in their breathing.

Carmine:Probably clones. How ironic. Starting to think whoever hired this person knew where I was.

Kovu: Do you think you can make a break why I distract them?

Carmine:It’s a sniper…. Hell no.

Kovu:Okay, then maybe we should hold our ground, or hide long enough to lose interest?

Carmine:….

Kovu:Hey? Carmine?!

Carmine:Relax, I’m just…getting creative. Do you think you can find their exact locations if they keep shooting?

Kovu:Yeah. Sniper rounds aren’t exactly quiet. What are you-

She raises her right foot off the ground before dropping it. As she raises it again, three roses are left behind. Again, she taps her foot lazily slightly to the left. Kovu watches the small garden grow to ten roses before her legs go limp again.

Kovu:You can make clones with your feet? How long have you been able to do that?

Carmine:That’s not important. What matters is how annoyed I am that I did this while poisoned. Why is it so hard to be your own person these days? Kovu, get ready to help me kill someone.

Kovu:Or…we could capture them for information?

Carmine:…You’re lucky I don’t have the strength to argue.

#rwby #rwby au #rwbabies #carmine arc rose #kovu belladonna #rwby rosebud

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yncoreee · 16 hours ago

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LATE NIGHT CONFESSIONS. Eunchae x reader

Synopsis— it’s late at night and you can’t fall asleep, and a certain someone seems to be facing the same problem as well

Warnings .ᐟ kissing, idol au, requested, female reader, FLUFF

꩜ — ⵌWord count 688

You lay in your bunk, staring at the ceiling as the silence of the dorm filled the room. It was late, and everyone else was fast asleep, but you couldn't seem to drift off. You tossed and turned, your mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming music show performances and the endless practice schedule.

Just as you were starting to feel like you were the only one awake, you heard a faint rustling sound coming from across the room. You turned to see Eunchae sitting up in her bunk, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, catching your gaze. "Can't sleep?"

You shook your head, and Eunchae swung her legs over the side of the bunk, padding softly over to sit beside you.

"I'm so sorry," she said, yawning. "I feel like I've been practicing that one dance move for hours, and I still can't get it right."

You smiled sympathetically, feeling a pang of camaraderie with your fellow group member. "I know what you mean," you said. "I've been struggling with that high note in the chorus."

Eunchae nodded vigorously, and you both launched into a discussion of the song, dissecting every detail from the choreography to the vocal arrangements.

As the night wore on, your conversation turned from music to life in general. You talked about your families, your hobbies, and your dreams. Eunchae was easy to talk to, and you found yourself opening up to her in ways you never had before.

You discovered that you both shared a love for old movies, and Eunchae recommended some of her favorite classics. You talked about your favorite books, and Eunchae lent you her copy of a novel you'd been wanting to read.

As the hours passed, the room grew quieter, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner. But you didn't notice, lost in the easy flow of conversation.

At one point, Eunchae turned to you with a curious expression. "Hey, can I ask you something?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course," you replied, feeling a flutter in your chest.

Eunchae took a deep breath before speaking. "I was just wondering... do you ever feel like there's something missing? Like, we're living this amazing life as idols, but sometimes it feels empty?"

You nodded slowly, surprised by Eunchae's perceptiveness. "Yeah, I know what you mean," you said. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions."

Eunchae's eyes locked onto yours, and you felt a spark of connection. "I feel like that too," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "But when I'm around you... I don't feel that way."

Your heart skipped a beat as Eunchae's words hung in the air. You felt like you were melting into her gaze, like the whole world had come to a standstill.

You looked at Eunchae, really looked at her, and saw the sincerity in her eyes. You saw the way her hair fell in soft waves down her back, the way her smile lit up the room.

And in that moment, you realized that you felt the same way.

"Eunchae," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She turned to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Yeah?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "I think I might be falling for you."

Eunchae's face lit up with a radiant smile, and she leaned in close. "I think I might be falling for you too," she whispered, her lips brushing against yours.

The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the magic of the moment. You felt like you were floating on air, like nothing else mattered except for the two of you.

As you pulled back from the kiss, Eunchae's eyes sparkled with happiness. "I'm so glad I confessed," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

You smiled, feeling your heart overflow with love. "Me too," you said, taking Eunchae's hand in yours.

And as you sat there, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, you knew that this was just the beginning of something special.

#lesserafim #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim fluff #eunchae x reader fluff #lesserafim eunchae x reader #eunchae x reader #eunchae fluff

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nothankyou822737 · 2 days ago

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Cassandra Jones Starting Relationship Headcanons

❤ Romantic ❤

🖤 GN reader 🖤

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️

Mention of blood, kind of bad writing.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

🖤 Cassandra is... a very intense woman

Mixed with that and not really having friends, she can be a bit awkward (?) tense (?)

First time Cass asked you to hang out, she kind of just

"HANG OUT WITH ME, NO TAKE BACKS"

Finger in your face and everything.

When you said "okay...!" She turned her heel and walked away laughing manicly. Kind of scared you a bit, but she was just excited (and nervous but she would never admit that)

Not that she had to, you could see the nervous sweat on her forehead.

Yall would most likely be friends when she's out of the foot clan, mostly because she would be to busy trying to prove her worth to the foot clan dudes.

Something about "upping her rank" or something.

Since she's been training for a clan since she was like seven, she's been way to busy to go out and do things like a regular person.

Fighting and trying to rule the world is the only thing she's really ever known.

So for the first time spending time together, Cassandra would try to drag you along to an adrenaline inducing activity, like sparring or "destroying anyone that comes in our path"

You instead get some tickets to a carnival, and take her around to ride some rides.

If you have a bad stomach, well to bad. She will drag you onto the fastest and highest rides. Definitely would scream the loudest, (out of joy) Somehow has an iron stomach.

Would also try to unbuckle herself from the MOVING ride. Claims its "way more intense". You had to hold her down WHILE on the ride so she didn't fall and get hurt. Almost got the both of you banned.

And gave you a heartattack.

Afterwards, take her to play some carnival games, maybe even win a stuffed animal for her, she'll look at you with little stars in her eyes. (And later put the stuffed animal on her bed)

Then she would get competitive.

I honest to God think she would be so good at scam carnival games. Comes with her ninja skills.

Treated the carni as her "mortal enemy." Also won like everything and shoved it in your arms with a "I WIN."

Also called herself a God lmao??

Anyways...

She's definitely not gonna realize when she has feelings for you at first.

All she knows is that she likes spending time with you and her face gets a little warm when you smile at her

(Wait, what?)

And her stomach gets queasy and she can't stop sweating when shes around you-

(Okay this is a problem)

She thinks you gave her the flu or something.

I mean she's not like stupid or anything, she's just never felt anything like how she feels for you before.

I feel like she gets it when April and her have one of their weekly movie nights. They "conveniently" watch a cheesey romantic movie. (April totally put it on to help the poor girl)

After that Cassandra is just super tense around you. Like bad.

"Hey Cass? You wanna hang o-"

"NO, TRAINING, BYE"

"Okay...?"

Lmao

It's not until you track her down after a pretty bad mission you get to talk to her.

I imagine she gets hurt a shit ton on missions. I mean she's always getting thrown into walls and falling off of tall stuff.

You can't tell me she hasn't gotten a concussion or two.

You stepped in as a medic of sorts for her (and the others tbh) since she dropped out of the Foot Clan. Healthcare is expensive 👍🏻

You walk up to Cassandra, med kit in hand and slowly sit next to her. She tenses when she sees you and looks away.

She always insisted that she "could handle her injures herself" but after being friends for a while she just accepts it to "make you feel better."

(Cassandra definitely likes being taken care of, just doesn't want to admit it)

She's bleeding on her shoulder, that's quite obvious, but it doesn't seem like stitches are needed.

You pop open the med kit and grab the tools needed to help and ever so gently take her hand to get better access to her wound better.

Cassandra tenses up more.

Thats when she finally looks at you.

And. She. Is. RED.

You honestly can't tell if she's in love with you or about to be sick.

Its not until you let go as you finish bandaging the wound she speaks up.

Well

Mumbles

"...what did you say?"

"I SAID DATE ME YOU MORON"

I mean, how could you say no?

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

First post, yayyy 🙆🏻‍♀️

Feel free to give me any constructive criticism as this is my first time doing anything like this. Also don't feel afraid to share your headcanons, I love reading stuff like that and Cassandra is so underrated.

#rottmnt #cassandra jones #tmnt #headcanon #Cassandra is so underated #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #x reader #Cassandra Jones x reader #rottmnt x reader

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thrifted-flannel · 3 days ago

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stuilly oneshot

basic summary: the “close friends” watch Carrie and Billy borrows a sweater, with a bonus of some HEAVILY implied autistic Billy Loomis

disclaimer: im not that experienced of a fanfic writer, so expect some mistakes. also the majority of it is just Billy thinking about Stu, in other words useless gay pinning. sorry if that’s not your thing

————

it was sometime early September and it was cold out. A strange thing for California, possibly a crime, Billy Loomis in particular was upset about this. he didn’t own any long sleeved shirts or anything like that, the thought of it tightly wrapped around his arm, suffocating him, was enough to make him want to murder someone. so he didn’t own anything that would make him feel that way. the disgusting sense of being confined and trapped in his own clothes. it was in juxtaposition to his best friend, who wore sweaters all the time. even in the summer months like some sort of depraved maniac.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!!” a voice shook him from his thoughts, Stu Machers voice. against Billy’s better judgement he decided to spend the afternoon with him. just a few hours. 3:30 to 5:30 so he could be back home before his dad was, but then Stu started talking. Well at that point there was no stopping him, then Stu had Carrie on VHS, one of Billy’s favourite movies. so he stayed a bit longer.

he started to think. about whatever really, but that mostly consisted of Stu. he hadn’t realized how long he’d actually just been sitting there, in silence. doing and saying nothing, that is until his idiot of a friend started to laugh, “you haven’t talked in a damn bit. thought you got possessed and died or something like that.” it was a terrible joke and made no sense, but Billy couldn’t help but find it endearing. “like a Stephen King novel.” Billy said, his tone detached, displaying no real emotion. So how was it that Stu knew how he was feeling? “exactly man!” he nudged Billy’s shoulder playfully with a breathy laugh, a sound almost akin to one a hyena would make. He always had a stupid laugh. Billy shifted around slightly, his legs had started to go numb and he felt pins and needles, the sheets and duvet of Stu’s bed moving slightly with him. of course the rich bastard had a TV in his bedroom. he redirected his focus to the film, the iconic pigs blood scene, it was the only part of the movie that Stu ever really liked. he had a thing for anything guts and gore, he wasn’t to big on an actual plot, something that drove their other friend Randy to insanity. It always amused Billy how strongly he would react to Stu’s preference in horror, claiming it made “a mockery of the genre” and “it’s not even real cinema!”. it gave Billy an excuse to talk about the subtle nuances in the film, the behind the scenes facts, casting choices, and anything else he could think of without Randy saying how he already knew that, or Sidney just not wanting to talk about “that sort of thing” at all. confusing how his own girlfriend didn’t always grasp how important this was to Billy, but where she failed Stu fucking excelled. it always made Billy happy how his counterpart would just listen to whatever he wanted to talk about. he’d engage in the conversation in all the right ways, he’d ask the right follow up questions and make the right connections, even though he was a dumbass who would constantly make a fool of himself, his social skills were almost impressive. they were far better than Billy’s, but that ain’t saying much. he was aloof by nature.

Billy looked over his shoulder to Stu’s alarm clock. 7:56. maybe he should get going. Billy leaned over to his friend, who was still engrossed in the movie, “im gonna get going now. it’s late out.” he said, lightly hitting Stu on his shoulder to grab his attention “hm? whaaatt? you can’t stay the night?” Stu groaned, it was funny how much his friend hated when he would leave, in a pathetic kind of sense. “yeah no. i have to get going.” he swung his legs over the edge of Stu’s bed before standing up, almost like he was preparing himself. Stu on the other hand let his head fall onto his pillow as he pouted. “why can’t you just stay here? it’s cold out anyway.” shit. it was cold out, Billy in a moment of just thinking about Stu and his company, forgot to plan ahead and bring something to keep him warm. He ran his hand over his shoulder, it was what? a half hour walk between their houses? Stu frowned slightly, picking himself up a bit and leaning forward on his elbows. “what’s wrong?”

Billy looked back at him with an almost dumbfounded expression, “nothings wrong i just don’t have a jacket to wear.” Stu sprung to life, literally out of nowhere, and ran up towards his dresser where his TV sat. he started to rummage through it, throwing the occasional item over his shoulder until he presented his friend with a blue flannel. “wear this.” he stated bluntly, it wasn’t even a question. not, “here Billy, you can wear this if you want.” but instead it was more of a fact. like something Billy wasn’t able to reject or fight against. “blue isn’t my colour anyway. more your thing i think.” Stu firmly placed the flannel in Billy’s hands, urging him to try it on. “hm. yeah okay you fucking queer” Billy snorted. he always found it funny how much Stu cared about his appearance, like some sort of pansy. But still, he tried on the shirt. it was nice too, warm and a little soft. loose as well, it didn’t make Billy feel like clawing his skin off from any form of restriction. it was really nice. Stu smiled warmly at his friend, which wasn’t uncommon for him to be smiling, this one seemed a bit different though. like he was happy for a reason outside of having a good day. he looked dumb. like an idiot, but fuck he was probably Billy’s favourite idiot.

————

hope you enjoyed that. might not be the best best but it was really fun to make! i love my domestic serial killers

#stu macher #billy loomis #scream 1996 #scream franchise #stu x billy #stuilly

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mindless-existence1 · 6 hours ago

Note

Hiii!! I wanted to request a shadow x fem! reader who in the movie verse is a college student that found shadow and now partly takes care of him. Knowing shadow, he’d still be a loner but I’d like to think having an another younger female influence in his life could help him with Maria’s passing. I also think it’d be super cute if she taught him gen z/modern things. He’s just too precious in the movie omg☹️❤️

Authors note: I love Shadow he's my boy. Also I didn't come up with how they met so this is just them hanging out in readers apartment watching a movie together

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

Your apartment in Green Hills wasn’t anything fancy—just a modest space with a small kitchen, a worn but comfortable couch, and a TV that sometimes acted up. But it was home, and apparently, Shadow thought so too.

The first time he came over, it had been an unexpected visit. You’d found him on your balcony, his crimson eyes scanning the street below like he was waiting for something to go wrong. You’d invited him in, unsure if he’d accept, but he had.

Since then, Shadow had started dropping by when he needed to escape the chaos of the world—or his own thoughts. Tonight was one of those nights.

He was sprawled on your couch, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softened by the dim light of the TV. You had a movie playing, some action-packed thriller that you thought he’d enjoy. But Shadow seemed more interested in quietly existing in the moment.

“Popcorn?” you offered, holding out a bowl as you curled up on the other end of the couch.He glanced at it skeptically. “I don’t understand humans’ obsession with this.”

“You say that every time, and yet you always eat it,” you teased, shaking the bowl slightly. Shadow’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile, and he reached out to grab a handful.

As the movie played, you got caught up in the action. One scene showed the protagonists making a mistake that ended in a dramatic explosion. You couldn’t help but comment, “Oh man, those guys are cooked.”

Shadow’s ears twitched, and he turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowed. “Cooked? They’re not being prepared as food.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation. “No, it’s slang,” you explained. “It means they’re done for, like there’s no coming back from that.”

He frowned, clearly processing your words. “Why use a term that implies food preparation instead of saying what you mean?”

“Because slang is fun, and it makes language more expressive,” you said, grinning. “Besides, it’s just how people talk sometimes.” Shadow huffed, leaning back against the couch. “Humans are strange.”

“And yet, you keep coming here,” you shot back with a playful smile.Shadow didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the screen, but the corners of his mouth softened just slightly.

“Your apartment is… peaceful,” he said finally. Your chest warmed at his words. Shadow wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings, so every little admission felt significant.

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” you said, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “Even if you think popcorn and slang are weird.” He didn’t reply, but his crimson eyes flicked toward you for a moment, a quiet gratitude in his gaze.

By the time the credits rolled, you were explaining another piece of slang—this time, “vibe.” Shadow looked vaguely unimpressed.

“So, when someone says ‘good vibes,’ they mean a positive feeling or atmosphere?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.“Exactly!” you said, grinning. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

He shook his head, muttering something about “unnecessary complications,” but you just shook your head with a small smile. As the night wore on, you found yourself leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away, simply letting you stay there as the quiet hum of the TV filled the room.

In these moments, you knew Shadow found something he didn’t often allow himself: peace. And for as long as he needed it, you’d always make room for him in your little corner of Green Hills.

#Shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #Sonic universe #sonic the hedgehog #sonic universe x reader #Shadow x reader fluff #shadow the hedgehog #Sonic 3 #sonic live action #Sonic live action x reader #Sonic live action fluff

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voidartisan · 1 day ago

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Anyway. Survived another semester. So. Star Wars characters as things my friends, professors, and classmates have said (plus a few things i've overheard on campus). two for the price of one bc in spring I forgor

Echo: Fives! GO!

Fives: NO! It's a free country!

Fives: *starts singing Republic anthem*

Echo: you can't sing the national anthem and BE A COWARD!!!

Ahsoka: Maybe they just really wanted there to be a gay weasel

Barriss: Hello. We were just talking about how my grandma's dog has a foot fetish

Sabine, in a class discussing ancient Egyptian art: Okay, don't hate me for this question, but, in the movie The Mummy---

Anakin: I didn't hit him that hard!

Obi-Wan: YOU BROKE HIS NOSE.

Omega: How’d you get those washboard abs, grandma?

Rex: I'd never say anything like that to you on purpose. You're like a daughter to me.

Echo: Thank you

Kanan: I watched two squirrels fighting in the middle of the street this morning. Kinda gave me Hector and Achilles

Din Djarin: WHO IS THIS BABY?

Rex: WHO DID YOU MARRY????

Luke: OH! I got t-boned to this song! :D

Kanan: Thou art the bomb dot com

Hound, dreamily: I want my ashes tested for narcotics

Thorn: They got a dried llama fetus. From Bolivia

Thire: Not the llama fetus

Jesse: Do you eat the cherry pits?

Kix: No? I'm pretty sure those have cyanide in them.

Jesse: *slowly removes cherry pit from mouth*

Obi-Wan: You'd think that with my very high reading level I would have figured that out sooner

Ahsoka: I mean, Yoda's made it that long

Barriss: Okay, but he's filled with happiness and good thoughts. I'm filled with bitterness and ibuprofen.

Ahsoka: This is why we have repentance and insurance

Cody, speaking to a spider in the shower: First of all, you're a pervert

Wooley, awake at 1 am: Next time, we should do drugs

Ezra: I thought I was about to have my Snow White moment, but instead, I almost got rabies

Leia: I'm trying to tell a story, and you're BOOGIEING

Hunter: I like where I am.

Phee: Surrounded by girls?

Hunter: No. Dirt.

Ventress: Give that man some cleavage

Riyo: When I say I've got that dog in me, it's Snoopy

Crosshair: If I was a bird, I would be homicidal

Luke: They made him straight. And SAD.

Wrecker: I don't need you to tell me what to do, number man!

Quinlan: Hear me out---

Luminara: You are NOT allowed to say that

Anakin: Arsonists are easy to catch. They leave a bunch of evidence.

Ahsoka: Like fire?

Anakin: Like fire.

Anakin, to Obi-Wan: You like blondes so blond that you can't tell if they have receding hairlines or not

Leia: I have no moral code when it comes to my father.

Hunter: I just love you, okay?

Crosshair: Okay.

Hunter: And I'm gonna slap you in the face the next time I see you.

Phee: They de-'tismed my boy

Fives, singing weakly, laying the wrong way on a mattress, with his legs up against the wall and head and arms hanging off the edge: 🎶H-O-T-T-O-G-O, you can take me hot to go~🎶

Anakin: *shows Ahsoka a clip of the Grinch*

Ahsoka: How did they get live footage of you?

Obi-Wan: What were you saying?

Quinlan: I forgot

Obi-Wan: I know; I was just asking out of courtesy

Luke: A FULL rye chip?! Alms for the poor!

Ventress: Hold on, he's gonna do the slutty cape wave again

Rig Nema: He died of a pulmonary embolism

Kix: Happens to the best of us

Ezra: Should I have known that talking in a spoon in my mouth would make it fall? PROBABLY. But what if this ONE TIME it was DIFFERENT

Hera, abruptly: I need to start listening to more ABBA

Tech: I'm too weird and I need to get weirder.

Obi-Wan: Dead husband. With cancer. At least it's in a nice font.

Satine: Hmm. No.

Obi-Wan: I'm sorry, would it be easier to break the news in Times New Roman?

Phee: I am a very patient woman in terms of patience

Fives: *hands Tup his toast in order to take a picture of Jesse lying next to the trashcan*

Fives: *takes picture*

Fives: *holds out hand* Toast me

Padme: He can make that Perry the Platypus noise- and I think that's hot, by the way-

Echo: I’m going to commit a crime if I have to move these gnomes again

Kanan: My gym skills are akin to a headless chicken attempting hopscotch

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whowritessometimes · 3 days ago

Text

Coasting - Art Donaldson x Reader

BMX, a small beach town, a crappy waitressing job, & your last summer at home.

aka a cute little slowburn bmx art donaldson & reader fic. coming of age movie vibes. enjoy!!

word count: 5.2k

---

The clinking of glasses and plates and knives, the sound of the ocean, the drone of idle conversation, some obscure reggae playlist. Those were the sounds that you heard, day in and day out, soft in the background while you bussed tables and chatted with your best friend, Tashi Duncan. The sun was just about to set as you glided around High Tide, the hole-in-the-wall beach café you had waitressed at every summer since you could work. Right now, it was that weird lull in the late afternoon just before dinner.

Walking back behind the counter, you caught a glimpse of the camcorder in your bag you kept tucked away for when you got a spare moment. Tashi had been asking you all week to film another one of her BMX sessions. She was planning on posting it—she always had something she wanted to showcase, whether it was a new trick, a new outfit, or just a good shot of her flying through the air. And you loved it. Capturing the way the light hit the steel of her bike as she soared, or the thrill on her face when she pulled off a trick, was second nature to you. Photography and videography were more than a hobby; they were a way for you to capture what felt like fleeting moments. Every shot you took seemed to tell a story, one you could hold onto for just a little longer.

Tashi nudged you from behind, her eyes glinting with excitement as she stepped up to the counter. "So, I was thinking," she began, not even giving you a chance to greet her before she jumped into her idea. "Maybe we could shoot something tomorrow?"

You smiled, folding some cutlery into a napkin. “You're telling me I should use my precious weekend to watch you flip around on a bike for hours?”

“I'll buy you that weird coconut ice cream you like!”

You didn't really need the incentive, this had been your routine pretty much every summer: work, gossip, shoot Tashi and whoever else of your friends happened to be at the park. You tried not to dwell on the fact that it was your last summer at home, that this wouldn't ever be routine again.

"It's not that weird. And yeah, sounds fun."

"I'll pick you up at 1!"

Just as you were about to respond, the café door swung open, the bell above it jingling. The dinner crowd was starting to filter in—locals, some tourists—and the BMX guys you hung around during the summer. Despite you only really knowing how to ride a bike for transportation reasons, this was the group you inadvertently fell into. And they seemed to like you, or at least your camera. Or Tashi. Or High Tide. They all waltzed in, laughing about something, clapping each other on their shoulders, a cloud of sand and summer air (and probably weed) following them inside.

Art Donaldson, the lanky BMX prodigy of the town, and your crush since he sat next to you in your math class sophomore year, was always one of the last ones to join the group. His presence was unmistakable, but it was his quiet nature that made him stick out even more. He didn't rush into the room with the same energy as his best friend Patrick Zweig or the others; he just slipped in like a shadow, calm and observant.

Patrick, being Patrick, immediately spotted you. He raised a hand and waved, his grin wide and mischievous. “Hey, look who’s still working,” he said, his voice cutting through the hum of the café.

You laughed, moving towards the front of the counter to take their order. Patrick continued to talk, rambling about something inconsequential, but you caught a brief flicker of a glance from Art when your eyes met his.

You quickly turned your attention back to Patrick. “What can I get for you guys?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

Tashi, who had quietly watched the interaction from behind the counter, leaned in slightly as she adjusted the straps of her helmet. “You’ve been staring at him all summer,” she whispered, her voice a mix of teasing and curiosity.

“Stop,” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “I’m not—he’s just… you know. Art.”

Tashi raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Art, who you're in love with.” She said the word love in a sing-song voice, and you had to fight to suppress your smile and roll your eyes.

“Okay. I have to go put this order in. And I'm not in love with him.”

Tashi grinned knowingly. “Mhm. You’re just avoiding it.”

Before you could argue further, you moved toward the kitchen to get their drinks ready, and you couldn’t help but notice Art again. He stood with his back to the counter, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking out at the fading light through the large windows that lined the café, absently listening to the mindless conversation of his friends. As if he could sense you staring, he turned around, grinning sheepishly and running a hand through his hair when you made eye contact. You sent back a flushed smile and a small wave before pivoting on your heel and promptly hiding in the kitchen.

“Chill, you’re fine,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing a tray of drinks to deliver to the table.

When you returned to the counter, Art and the guys were settling into their usual booth by the window, the sun casting a golden glow on everything outside. Art had his back to you, but you could feel his presence, even from across the room.

Tashi, ever the observant one, nudged you with her elbow, making you jump. “So, how was that look I just saw? You freaking out now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly, focusing on the drinks you were preparing, trying to ignore her smirk.

“You looked like you were about to burst into flames.” Tashi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the humor behind it.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. Tashi had been in your corner about Art from the start. She was the one who encouraged you to ask him for photos back when you first picked up a camera and realized how much you enjoyed capturing moments. Ever since then, Art had been the subject of most of your best shots. And the subject of some of your best memories, too. You rarely hung out with him one-on-one, but whenever you were in a group setting, he had this way of making you feel included. And a way of making you feel like you and him were the only two people there.

“Okay,” Tashi pressed, leaning a little closer. “So, are we pretending that Art’s not going to ask you out or are we just gonna let you guys keep doing the whole will-they-won't-they thing?”

You shot her a look. “I’m not doing this right now.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, but you could see the teasing glint still in her eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll let you have your mystery.”

You glanced back toward the booth where Art and the crew were talking, trying to focus on anything else. Art had settled into his usual relaxed posture—arms stretched out along the back of the booth, a faint smile on his lips as Patrick animatedly told another story. He was always so laid-back, but there was a certain warmth about him that you couldn’t ignore. And it wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he was with his friends, how he listened when they talked, how he had a way of making even the smallest moment feel special.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your trance. You glanced at the screen—Tashi texting you details for tomorrow's shoot followed by about a million incoherent and entirely unrelated emojis.

You chuckled to yourself, making a mental note to set the alarm early and get the camera ready. As you were typing out a response, you heard a soft voice from behind you.

“Hey, you busy?” Art’s voice was low, and even though you hadn’t expected him to approach, it didn’t startle you.

You turned to find him standing just behind the counter, the light from the window casting a warm glow around his silhouette. His presence was effortlessly calm, like he was just... there. Not demanding anything from you, but still managing to make your heart beat a little faster.

“Not too busy,” you replied, looking up at him. “Just the usual.”

He nodded, his lips quirking into a small, easy smile. “I meant to ask earlier,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he leaned a little closer to the counter, “You free tomorrow afternoon?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly recovered by glancing at Tashi, who was pretending to be busy but clearly trying not to watch the conversation unfold.

“I’m filming for Tashi tomorrow, actually,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but there was that flutter in your chest again. "Why?"

Art raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get something to eat. But, uh, I'm going to that place on the pier with the onion rings later if you want to come."

There it was. The simplest, calmest invitation that could have easily been overlooked by anyone else. But for you, it felt like the universe had just delivered exactly what you wanted without any fanfare. He wasn’t overthinking it, wasn’t being mysterious. He was just... asking.

“Yeah, I could do that,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You remember the onion rings?”

Art’s smile widened ever so slightly, and you could swear there was a spark of something—maybe relief, maybe happiness—flickering in his eyes. He didn't answer your question. Instead, he said, “I’ll meet you around six?”

“Six sounds good,” you said, nodding back. He gave you one last smile before turning back to the table.

You had always had some constants in your life. You had photography, you had High Tide, you had Tashi, and you had onion rings. Your favorite place on the pier, one of those old Airstream trailers that had been converted into a restaurant. You were caught off-guard when Art mentioned it. You'd gone with him a few times, and he had listened to your rants about the onion rings. But it wasn't usually just the two of you. But he remembered. Your head was kind of spinning.

Tashi nudged out of your trance, this time with a full-on grin. “See? I told you it was only a matter of time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile that spread across your face betrayed you. “Yeah, yeah," you said, trying (and failing) to sound unaffected.

---

The pier was quiet when you and Art finally made your way there, the ocean stretching endlessly in front of you, the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore. The sky had faded into a deep indigo, stars just beginning to twinkle above. The scent of salt and fried food mixed in the air as you approached the little Airstream that had been serving the best comfort food on the coast for as long as you could remember.

It felt different tonight, though. More peaceful. More... effortless. Just the two of you, walking side by side with no real rush.

You stood in line while Art ordered, the woman behind the window grinning knowingly as she handed him the takeout bag. “Got a feeling you’d be back for more,” she joked, but Art just shrugged in his usual, easy way.

“Couldn’t help it,” he said with a quiet smile, turning to you. “You were right about these. It’s hard to stay away.”

You gave him a small grin, feeling the pull of his attention in a way you hadn’t before. He wasn’t rushing to fill the silence, just existing in it. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t forced. It was... easy.

You walked over to a bench by the edge of the pier and sat down, both of you leaning back as you opened the bag and pulled out your share of the food. The breeze from the ocean was cool against your skin, the faint hum of the waves blending with the distant chatter of people further down the pier.

“So,” you said after a few moments of comfortable silence, breaking into the food, “how’ve you been?”

Art glanced sideways at you, his gaze thoughtful. “Busy. Same old. You?”

“Same here. Just, you know, work. With Tashi and all.” You paused, then added, “Trying not to get too much sand in the camera.”

He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a moment, you both just shared a quiet laugh. It wasn’t an elaborate joke, but it was real. Like this moment, with him, was real.

You took another bite and leaned back into the bench, stretching your legs out in front of you, your feet tucked into your sneakers. The sun had set a while ago, but the horizon was still glowing faintly, like the world had been painted in colors you could never quite capture. The stars were scattered above like a thousand tiny little secrets.

Art was quiet for a while, his gaze out on the ocean as he ate, but you weren’t uncomfortable. It felt like the kind of silence you could just sink into, where you didn’t need to fill every moment with words, because you both understood that sometimes, not speaking was the most honest thing you could do.

“I didn’t think you’d ask me out here,” you said suddenly, the words just slipping out. It was a little vulnerable, a little self-conscious, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Art glanced over at you, his lips curving into that smile of his. “Why not?”

You shrugged, feeling the heat rise to your face. “I don’t know. You’re always... with your friends. I just thought you’d be busy.”

He paused, chewing for a second before he answered, his tone more serious than you expected. “I don’t like being busy just to be busy.”

There was something in the way he said it, a depth behind his words that made you look at him a little differently. You couldn’t quite place it, but something about the way he approached life—so calm, so deliberate, but still present—was unlike anyone else you’d ever known.

“I get that,” you said, nodding, your voice quieter now. “It’s good to slow down sometimes.”

Art met your eyes, and for a second, you both just held the moment, neither of you needing to say anything more. It was a connection. And it was simple, but it was there. And for once, neither of you was trying to rush through it.

“Did you always know you’d be here this summer?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence again.

You tilted your head, considering it. “I don’t think I ever really thought about it, to be honest. It’s just... always been this way, you know?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out to the water. “Yeah, I get it."

For a moment, you both looked out at the ocean, the rhythm of the waves syncing with the calm in the air around you. It felt easy, almost like this was what you were supposed to be doing all along. Not rushing anywhere, just sharing space, sharing time.

“Maybe we should do this more often,” you said lightly, breaking the quiet.

Art gave you a half-smile, his eyes soft but content. “I think I’d like that.”

You were about to say something else when he spoke again, his tone almost shy. “You know, I’m glad you said yes. I wasn’t sure if...”

You raised an eyebrow. “If I’d show up?”

He nodded, his expression a mix of self-deprecating humor and honesty. “Yeah. Figured you had better things to do than hang out with me.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the quiet vulnerability behind them. You didn’t know exactly what was going on in his head, but you could tell he didn’t often put himself out there like this.

You smiled softly, nudging him with your elbow. “You don’t have to worry about that. I like spending time with you.”

The words hung in the air between you two for a long beat. Then Art’s gaze softened, and he gave you a small but genuine smile, the kind that made you feel like everything had just fallen into place in a way it hadn’t before.

The conversation drifted back into the easy flow of a summer night, small talk about random things, your voices low and comfortable, as the sounds of the ocean and the soft rustling of the wind filled the space around you. The food was forgotten for a moment, but neither of you minded.

And just like that, the evening felt like its own quiet, perfect thing. Unspoken, but understood.

---

The park was quieter than usual for a Saturday, the afternoon crowd still drifting in, some starting their warm-up routines, others talking or laughing with friends.

You watched Tashi land a clean trick and, almost instinctively, your fingers adjusted the camera settings. It was easy to focus on her—her energy contagious, her confidence enough to keep you grounded as you clicked away. BMX was her thing, and capturing her in motion was like catching fire in a bottle. But today, there was something different in the air, something just outside of your control.

You could feel it in the way the park seemed to have shifted, in the way Art stood off to the side, half-listening to his friends, half-distracted. His presence was subtle, but it always demanded attention, like the way the ocean would silently pull you in, its waves irresistible.

The moment you caught his eye across the park, you knew it wasn’t just the camera’s lens that had you transfixed. You could feel the weight of his gaze from where you stood, like a soft pressure against your chest. The smile he gave you was small, but it lingered longer than it should have, a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken.

But you didn’t acknowledge it—not right away. Instead, you turned back to Tashi, adjusting the angle of the camera, trying to stay in the moment.

“Everything okay?” Tashi called out, leaning against the metal frame of her bike, pulling her helmet off. Her voice was playful, but there was a note of curiosity beneath it, like she could feel the shift in the air too.

“Yeah,” you muttered, forcing your focus back on her. “Just... taking a shot.”

She raised an eyebrow, but before she could tease you, she was back in motion. You clicked the shutter again, the camera capturing her effortless flow, but your mind was elsewhere. Or more precisely, on him.

You knew Tashi could sense it, too. She knew you better than anyone, after all. There was a tension in the air now, thick and palpable, something that neither of you could ignore. Everyone could see it—the way you and Art kept glancing at each other when you thought no one was watching, the way conversations seemed to stretch between you two, lingering with things unsaid. But neither of you was willing to break that unspoken boundary. Not yet.

It wasn’t like there was a clear moment that everything shifted. It was more like the tide slowly pulling at the shore, little by little, until you were both standing in a place where you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were snapping a few more shots of Tashi when you felt that familiar presence. The subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was Art, crossing the park toward you with that lazy, effortless stride, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Except you both knew better. There was a quiet intensity that always followed him, an unspoken thing between you that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

But you both knew what was there. You knew the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching, the way your pulse quickened when your eyes met his across the crowd. Neither of you was saying it out loud, but it was there—slowly building, like the tide rolling in, too soft to resist.

Tashi glided back over, cutting through the silence with her usual exuberance. “Okay, okay, now I want you to take a picture of me and Art together!” she said, flashing a grin at you.

The moment shattered, and you tried to hide your smile behind the camera. But you felt it—Art’s glance, lingering just a fraction of a second longer than normal, like he was holding onto something he didn’t quite know how to say.

Tashi noticed, of course. She was always the first one to notice when something shifted. “You know,” she murmured, nudging you, “I’m starting to think you two are the only ones who don’t see what’s going on.”

You rolled your eyes, though the warm flush on your cheeks gave you away. “Please,” you muttered. “We’re just friends.”

Tashi didn’t even try to hide the grin as she took her place in front of you. “Mmhmm. Just friends.”

Art, standing just off to the side, offered a quiet chuckle. But there was a softness in his gaze when it found yours. No teasing. Just that same quiet, undeniable connection.

The shoot went on, the shots flowing one after the other. But all you could focus on was the way Art’s presence never quite left your periphery, the way every glance, every quiet word, seemed to say so much more than you both wanted to admit.

---

The night ended like most of your Saturdays: a kickback on the beach, surrounded by the familiar buzz of friends, tourists, and transplants. Red solo cups were scattered around like confetti—some with liquor, others with cheap beer, a few spiked lemonades. Somewhere in the mix, a joint was being passed around, its faint smoke drifting lazily into the night air.

You were curled up against Tashi, your head resting on her shoulder, the two of you passing a bottle of hard seltzer back and forth. The conversations around you faded into a pleasant hum, the guys off in the distance trying to start a bonfire that seemed doomed from the start, their loud banter drifting over the sand. The air was warm, the waves crashed softly in the distance and everything felt easy.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and now the only light came from the flickering remnants of the sunset and the scattered bonfire embers. You and Tashi drifted into one of those easy, low-stakes conversations, the kind where you talked about nothing and everything at once.

But then, as always, you found your eyes wandering. You scanned the beach for Art. It wasn’t conscious, it just happened—your gaze always seemed to gravitate toward him.

Tashi’s lips twitched into a knowing smile, and without missing a beat, she gently nudged her shoulder against your head, nudging you out of your quiet reverie.

"You should go sit with him," she said, her voice soft but insistent. It wasn’t teasing like it normally would’ve been—it was more like an invitation. A little nudge toward something she could see that you hadn’t quite admitted to yourself yet.

"I can't," you muttered, pulling the bottle of seltzer up to your lips, avoiding her eyes for just a second too long.

"Yes, you can," she replied, her voice so confident that you couldn’t help but meet her gaze.

You hesitated, caught between the pull of her words and the uncertainty creeping up from your chest. "What if—"

Tashi cut you off, lifting her chin and pointing toward Art, who was leaning against a nearby palm tree, looking out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought but still aware of the group around him.

“Go,” she said simply, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

And in that moment, with the warmth of her encouragement surrounding you, you knew she was right. You could go. You should go.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from her shoulder, the sand shifting beneath you. The bottle of seltzer was still in your hand, but now it felt like an anchor you didn’t need anymore. The noise of the group around you faded as you started to move, your heart beating a little faster, a little louder, as you took that first step toward Art.

As you reached him, you stopped a little closer than you usually would, just within his reach, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you, a flicker of surprise flashing through his gaze before he quickly masked it with that usual, easy smile of his.

"Hey," you said, the word feeling like it was the first one you’d said all night.

"Hey," Art answered back, his voice a little lower than usual, almost like he was aware of the space between you two in a way you hadn’t noticed before. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you said with a small shrug. "Just wanted to say hi."

"Hi." His gaze was soft, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You smiled back, the air between you two thick with all the things neither of you had said yet. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, neither of you knew how to cut through it.

Before you could say anything else, Patrick’s voice rang out across the beach.

"Night swim!!"

He was grinning wide, his energy infectious, as he waved his arms dramatically. This was a common occurrence, and you and Art rolled your eyes simultaneously. Like clockwork, Patrick demanded everyone jump into any nearby body of water at almost every party or kickback.

And the group erupted into motion—laughter, whoops, and the sound of sandals slapping against the sand as everyone ran toward the water, shouting and teasing each other about who would jump in first.

You and Art found each other's gaze again, and he reached for your hand, fingers brushing against yours in that familiar, electric way that sent a jolt through your body. Without waiting for you to process, he gently tugged you toward the water, the sound of the waves now loud and inviting in the distance.

You grinned in agreement, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren't a stranger to the Patrick Zweig Night Swim, but you usually made your way into the water with Tashi. This was all new to you (but very welcome).

The two of you kicked up sand in your wake, laughing and picking up your pace, hands grasping each other tightly except to remove various articles of clothing. You tried not to stare at his toned chest and arms, the tan on his skin, the faint freckles across his shoulders.

You tugged your hoodie over your head, leaving you in your bikini just as you felt your toes hit the water.

The ocean stretched out in front of you, dark and welcoming. You hesitated for just a second, the water a cool, inviting unknown.

Art grinned, glancing at you quickly. "You good?"

"I guess so." You laughed.

With that, you both stepped into the surf, the water crashing around your feet as you waded deeper, the chill of the ocean wrapping around your ankles and calves. The night was filled with the sounds of your friends behind you, all of them laughing and splashing, but it was you and Art that seemed to drift away from the chaos, wading out further into the deeper water together.

As the water rose higher, up to your thighs, you turned to face him, feeling the cool waves tug at you both.

“You sure this is a good idea?” you teased, eyes meeting his, your voice light but the tension still there, coiled between you two. The quiet hum of the waves seemed to settle around you.

Art’s smile faltered just slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer, or maybe he didn’t need to. His eyes flickered down to where the water had soaked your top, redness creeping up his neck.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice suddenly quieter, more serious. “'S a good idea.”

There was something in the way he said it, a soft edge to his words that made your heart beat a little faster and your head buzz, like you were drunk (but not from the seltzer).

You stepped a little closer, the saltwater lapping at your knees, the light from the beach just far enough to make everything feel like a dream—beautiful and fleeting.

For a second, everything between you two hung in the air. Then, as if on instinct, Art took a half step closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he brushed a damp strand of hair from your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

And despite the cold water, your face grew impossibly warmer as you nodded.

And then, almost without warning, Art leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as slow as the waves but as powerful as the pull of the ocean itself.

For that instant, everything faded—the noise from the beach, the cold of the water, the summer air, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips, the gentle pressure of his hands on your body, the way he seemed to breathe life into you with each movement. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. His hands couldn't seem to decide where they wanted to rest, slowly moving from your waist to the nape of your neck. You could feel his smile in the kiss, and he could feel yours. It was all teeth and noses and salt and sand and the occasional laugh and it was perfect.

The coolness of the water lapping at your skin was nothing compared to the heat running through you. Your heart raced, your breath short as you kissed him back, your hands finding their place on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, you both stayed close, foreheads touching, your hands still tangled together in the water. Art’s face was flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you with that same soft, almost shy expression.

"I really like you," he muttered, the words just slipping out, and his flustered grin made you laugh, a little breathless.

"Yeah?" you teased, your fingers still tangled with his. "I really like you too."

Art glanced away briefly, the blush deepening, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

For a moment, neither of you said anything more. Just standing there in the quiet of the night, with the water around you and the stars above. Yeah, it was your last summer here, but everything with Art made you realize how things weren't really ending at all.

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