#im under my limit still though so im still on track

[sk1nnysuccubus]

the way having proper meals makes you feel like such a wannarexic lol

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

-

-

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[galacticghoste]

Spoilers

Can I PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS GUY?!

Ok so my knowledge of him is limited I just know he's the commander and that he hates Shadow and blames him for what happened to Maria and his family.

I think his name is Abraham Tower that's what I could find on him anyways.

(Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong I just wanna share my thoughts)

OK so the scene started with him running away in anger though let's remember anger is usually a secondary emotion meaning he could be reacting out of fear or frustration.

Best bet he confronted shadow about what he really is since he did call shadow a freak before running off and once he maybe got confirmation on it , it may have given him more of a reason to hate him and idk maybe he said something to shadow before running off idk

Since we do see shadow staring at the larva either the boy said something to him or maybe he's communicating with it I know he can do that. (I think XD)

Also personally think he's also jealous of Shadow and all the attention Maria give him since Maria is constantly reassureing him that he's good and not heartless

LOOK AT THAT FACE !!!/\/\/\

Yeah remember how he ran off???

Well lookie here seems he must have stop in his tracks once he realized Maria is still with shadow

I feel like he's feeling left out since I know he dose see maria as a big sister and they probably knew each other much longer then Shadow

He may even feel like he's being replaced by him which could explain why he dosent like him

But once Shadow was around Maria may have unintentionally left him out seeing that he dosent constantly need her the way Shadow might for emotional support.

Which could lead to why he could be jealous of Shadow

When Maria says the line that Shadow really does care about her and then Abe looks away when she says everyone

Maybe Shadow dosent like him either

I wonder if he would say things to shadow to get under his skin maybe he wants a reaction from shadow to show maria he's the monster he think he is

i bet he dose, who knows maybe he told shadow how come he hasn't cured Maria yet if that's what he's ment to do I can see a jealous lil bro saying something like that

Lil kids can be brutal

Honestly I really hope we get more backstory on him im curious to see more about him

[calamity-aims]

siiiiigh im going to regret this but day 4 with Drift?

Hiiii Gaea! @kkrazy256 also asked for day 4 so I smashed their guy Rem in there too! This may make little to no sense to anyone else though hfdjksahgajlsh

Day 4: sensory deprivation, hallucinations, "you're still alive in my head"; 685 words

“It’s…not going to be pleasant,” Remedy said. His voice was as flat as ever, but with a rare undercurrent of apology that made Drift’s eyes widen. The CMO of the Coruscant Guard was a tough old bastard, never apologizing for anything and running his medbay with an iron fist. Hell, Drift had seen him go toe-to-toe with Fox more than once, and Fox was scary.

So Drift could only assume this bacta dip was going to suck space balls.

“I can’t put you under,” Remedy continued. “Your system is still coming off the spice and stims and whatever fucked-up concoction that excuse for a medical practitioner gave you -” here Remedy’s eyes tightened slightly, as they always did when Pharma was mentioned - “so you’re going to have to be awake in the tank.”

Drift would nod, if he could, but his recently re-implanted artificial spine was a searing line of pain down his back, so he said nothing as the CMO went on.

“You won’t be able to see, hear, or move. Whatever you do, kid,” he said, pinning Drift with an intense gaze from behind his glasses, “Don’t panic.”

At the time, Drift hadn’t understood what he’d meant. It was just a dip in a bacta tank, right? True, Drift had never actually been in a bacta tank - Remedy guarded the two tanks the Corries had been allowed like a space dragon of legend, only using their limited supplies on the very worst of cases.

But still. How bad could it be? Maybe Drift could even get some sleep. Imagine that.

—

Drift did not get some sleep. The residual stims, spice, and Pharma’s serum kept his system humming, a shaky sort of wakefulness that set his teeth on edge.

Being submerged in bacta was nothing like the water training exercises on Kamino - the fluid around him was almost heavy, restricting his movements as though he were an insect set in amber. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; Drift floated through space, totally alone.

Not alone.

Drift flinched - it was all he could do, with every limb weighed down and nearly immobilized. His jaw clenched under the oxygen mask. He would just - pretend he didn’t hear that.

He drifted. Heh. Drifted. That was funny –

You’re even more of an idiot than I thought.

No, nonono. He was not losing it in here. Losing it was postponed until a later date. He would not panic, he would just breathe, and breathe, and breathe, and ignore the voice that sounded so familiar–

Awww, c’mon, don’t ignore me. Don’t you miss me?

No. Who would?

That supercilious voice seemed to be coming from everywhere, somehow. Well, Remedy, for one, it hissed. Do you really think he’ll forgive you for this?

I didn’t kill you, Pharma. He did.

He did. But you pushed him to it, didn’t you? All this could have been avoided if you weren’t such a braindead fool. It’s all your fault. His pain is on you.

He – there wasn’t any other way –

People do seem to have to keep fixing your mistakes, don’t they, Drift? First your batchmate Wing, now Remedy…tell me, how long do you think it’ll be before you get him killed, too?

Shut up.

Are you a betting man? I’d put long odds on him even making it to the end of the year, with your track record. 

Shut UP! You’re fucking dead, Pharma, so just shut the fuck up.

Dead? Of course. But here in your mind, I’m still alive. 

You’re just a hallucination. Just a figment of my imagination–

You may be right. But that doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth. Pharma’s voice seemed to come from everywhere somehow, enveloping Drift in its poison. 

Now. Shall we begin where we left off?

Where we left o–

Agony. A searing line of pure pain traced down the length of Drift’s spinal implant, like a scalpel cutting into his flesh. Like when Pharma had cut into him to tear the implant from his body, leaving Drift bleeding out and useless on the floor.

No. No, not again.

Yes, Pharma’s voice said with glee. Again.

[apricotbuncakes]

"How does donating to your GoFundMe support your Top Surgery?"

I'm glad you asked about this -> gofundme and how it works!

But first: if you can't afford to donate, REBLOG THIS TO HELP IT REACH MORE PEOPLE. You can also repost it to other sites or share directly with those you know can help! This helps a lot because I'm unable to constantly reblog and share it, limiting my reach to external communities.

GoFundMe, in it's most basic explanation, is a collection service that tracks how much money a certain fund has been donated to and holds onto it for the individual/group/organization until they withdrawl (or 'cash out') the money.

GoFundMe takes a portion of what is donated to keep their own business running, but most of it still goes to the person you intended to donate to! This is also why surpassing a goal when on a crowdfunding service is extremely important. If I got exactly 10,000 in donations, I wouldn't have actually made all of that money because of the portion that is taken out.

That said, it is still incredibly helpful! Of the money that I can receive from the donations, I can put that towards so many different things!!

Due to legislation and otherwise hostile environments being created for trans people across the United States (in what is rightfully being called a genocide, but I digress) I'm choosing to go the 'out of pocket' route for top surgery, meaning I'm not relying on my insurance for the procedure. Insurance can take significantly longer, and they have a limited number of people in network (aka people who accept my insurance for payment) that can perform this. It can also limit 'cosmetic' aspects, even if those things are considered standard practice, like nipple crafts.

Basically, by paying 'out of pocket' I'm allowing myself a shorter wait time because im not having to fight with insurance, or sacrificing quality over coverage.

Is crowdfunding my only option to cover this? No! I'm saving up what I can, but I work an hourly-wage job that is considered under livable wage even though it's above the minimum. I'm scheduled to work 116 hours at a part time job for college students, just in the month of March. Because I'm disabled in several aspects, this is taking a significant toll on my physical well being. I am in a better position than other people because I'm living with one of my partner's family who provides transportation, rent (housing), electric, and water utilities, and in trade I help with food through Food Assistance, a portion of the car payment, and my portion of the phone bill. I'm also paying back the minimum monthly cost for my student loans (though I'm working to get that paused for the time being). But I'm still not making $1,000 a month after taxes and bills, which means that without spending extra money, I'm only saving a few hundred a month on my own for this goal.

All of that means that I'll need to look into financing options, what are essentially loans for medical procedures. That's where the crowdfunding comes in. While I am able to make monthly payments to cover this, depending on the plan, interest can start up in under a year. With a $10,000 surgery (that price includes the estimated costs for doctor visits, tests/scans, the procedure itself, aftercare supplies, money set aside for bills while I can't work during recovery, etc) waiting to pay all of that after the interest has started adding could take literal years, and I'd be pouring more money than I can afford into it. By crowdfunding however, I would be able to get the surgery and prior/post supplies and expenses paid for, and then pay for most (if not all) of the finances/loans I took out for it after.

Basically, in my circumstances, the crowdfunding is being raised to help me pay the loans I need for this procedure off, amongst other expenses related to the surgery.

"But why do you NEED top surgery?"

Without getting into the statistics, or even legislative parts of it (and what may try to stop me from getting it by proxy), I'll stick to the facts of my individual situation.

My breasts are a literal pain in my back, and with Fibromyalgia (a disability that causes chronic pain, even when 'nothing' is wrong, a poor explanation but one that is satisfactory for this discussion) it just makes it that much worse. My breasts are rather large and are causing me a great deal of struggle to even breath properly because of their weight.

Even if that wasn't the case though, they cause me significant gender dysphoria, meaning my body is distressing me because it doesn't match my perceived sense of self as a man (or masc) person. Socially, emotionally, and mentally, they limit my transition and health, so removing them is in my best interest (my therapist even agrees). Getting this surgery done ASAP is a priority for me because of this, as well as the aforementioned growing hostility for trans people, and Anti-Trans legislation that feeds into that.

"What else are you doing to raise money?"

I understand that some people are cautious to donate money to someone who may not bring doing tbeir on effort to save money themselves.

As I said before, I'm saving what I can with my disposable income (or money that does not go directly to bills and expenses). I'm not spending on frivolous things (for me, that's eating out, new clothes, trinkets, subscription services or otherwise unneeded items). Unneeded items do not include pet supplies, medication expenses, NEEDED clothing (like weather appropriate clothes for the season), hygiene products like deodorant and soap, and other items that are not bills but are still needed.

But I'm also going to start applying for grant/scholarship money for trans people, or money I don't have to pay back. This money (should I qualify AND receive it) will go directly towards my surgery expenses so I don't have to pay as much money back on loans.

There is a chance I won't receive any of them that I apply for, which is why my gofundme goal is the total cost still, so I'm not low balling myself and having to raise the goal later.

If you really want to, I'm also opening commissions (three slots total). Because I'm packing myself to the brim with my main job, I won't be able to complete them as quickly, though I will work on them as frequently as possible. Commissions have the benefit of the money going DIRECTLY to me, so gofundme doesn't get a cut of it.

Have any other questions? My ask box and DMs are open!!

[nonbinarydeity]

HI!! i love your blog sm--like, it's AMAZING. you and remcycl333 really revolutionized LOA for me--and i really like that you and i are similar (neurodivergent, spiritual, nonbinary, etc)!! i have a couple burning questions and i think you could really help me understand myself better. FTR ive had a lot of successes with the LOA but now im working on some more stuff (career, body, etc). that i think i have some reluctance about.

me and the bestie (my subconscious) can talk to each other. what's confusing me lately, though, is that when i have these inner convos i seem to always show up as the "old" me. for example, my desired voice (#transmasc moment) is much lower but my current voice sounds higher... even though i KNOW i have a new voice, i still naturally "appear" with my old body and talk in my mind with that higher voice. i can't tell if this is my subconscious trying to tell me that i should persist until i naturally talk with a lower voice in my 4-D, or maybe i'm just so used to being "old" me that it's just a habit for now (e.g., seeing yourself mentally as a kid even though you're chronologically 35)?? like, if i'm in the state of the wish fulfilled shouldn't i naturally know that i have (in my mind) what i wanted already?

** if i visualize, i can hear my new voice UNTIL the scene ends but as soon as that's done, i'm back to thinking with my old voice until i 'remember' or remind myself that i have a new one...... it doesn't help that i have to hear my old voice all the time when i talk to my family. i think i do a good job of dismissing the 3-D though, it doesn't really sadden me.

2. i have so many desires i literally cannot keep track. i keep adding more every day bc i always find more stuff that i want and while that's great, i cannot for the life of me figure out what is the best way to manifest all of them at once. throwing everything under the umbrella of "(i am in the state of having)/i have my perfect life" seems like a good idea, but if i start to think of something else on top of it does it matter if i switch to ONLY affirming for that?? i feel like i'm in the kitchen cooking something on all four burners and i worry if i take my attention off of one "dish" it'll burn (disappear). like, they're all cooking at the same time so they'll all finish eventually... i don't want to get exhausted by being like "omg i just thought of having better mental health" -> manifesting that + "omg i just thought of getting rid of my joint pain" -> "omg i think i should manifest not having limiting beliefs" -> manifesting that and then so on and so on...

AGAIN THAKN YOU SO MUCH i owe you my life 😭

Okay, this is so sweet frr 💕 ty so much for the ask!!

Okay, so from what I can tell, you're having a problem with your inner Self at the moment. You can imagine having what you want, but as soon as you stop imagining purposefully, you revert back to the old, is that right? So for me, there's a couple things you could do!

Ask your subconscious mind what to do about it/ if it can help you! This may seem obvious, but it's there to help, so it really can be the best solution!!

Let go of the old story in your mind. Your mind is your ultimate dwelling place, it's where you are the creator! If you don't want to sound like your old voice in your mind, you don't have to! Sit for a moment and imagine your desired voice, and when you finish, remind yourself that that is YOUR voice, that is the voice that you have. It can take a little bit of reminding to get your mind on the same page as you, but the more you practice the easier it will get!! You're just in a transition phase on your mind right now, just keep imagining having it and feeling fulfilled by it. Also, don't put weight on it if you do slip back, just let it go freely and switch back, with no judgement or guilt. That voice has no power over you, you have the power 💕

As for having way too many desires, I know how you feel 😭😭 The biggest advice I can give for this is: change your dwelling state of being! When you imagine having what you want, you can imagine as many things as you want - either at the same time or one after the other. You have no limits in your imagination!

Your subconscious mind already knows each desire you have, so the only reason you're imagining is to feel the fulfillment of having it, not to get it. When you start feeling fulfilled naturally, and as you continue to fulfill each desire in your mind, you will start to notice all of your desires coming to you effortlessly!

You are in control of your Self, and as you imagine having what you want more, the idea of having it and the state of fulfillment that comes with it will become more natural! Remember that you already have your desires in the 4D, your subconscious gave it to you already! All you're doing is getting into and maintaining a state of fulfillment because it feels good, which will get you your desires by proxy 💕

[scibot9000]

top albums of 2023 for me. i dont have spotify so i gotta do this manually.

rankings approximate except the top one. links and thoughts under the cut

greenhouse - arc,regn

ok this may sound silly but: in the 90s, necros (among others) were making some rad tracker music with a very very specific synth sound and overall vibe that i simply have not heard since. this hits that for me.

"露華" necros md tracker idm revived. "spur" feels like it's that tracker sound, removed from tracker limits.

"føn", my second fav track, feels far more Halley Labs, but still carries a hint of that turn-of-the-century tracker spirit.

the opening track, "eko", is SO choice though. fav.

---

DJ Shadow - Action Adventure

kind of fascinated with this! it’s extremely 80s but not always. “You Played Me” is just an 80s hit. i keep coming back to it lol (idk “when” you’d place “Free For All” but its also a fav) how is “Fleeting Youth” so beautiful

im really excited to see DJ Shadow enter the 90s in 2035 or w/e

---

PROGedia - Diõscuri

prog hip hop? 6????

yeah that opening track grabbed me and did not let go. holy hell what a banger.

the aoty status is mostly carried on that, but like. it left an impression damnit.

feels like brainfeeder.

---

Liminal Warp - Nocturnal Edge 3

downside: anime VO, mixed kinda loud too...

upside: INTENSE.

I've had "Reina" on loop for ages. easy fav, but the rest of the tunes Don't Slack. still deeply fascinated by "yag si urowak". it's like breakcore 2 or smth.

---

Skrillex - Quest for Fire

I was really scared when i saw the number of features here but uhh... nope this went hard.

and also i didnt notice at first but one of those features is Joker. like... purple music Joker. and it's the best damn track on the thing.

"Xena" second favorite. insane drum production there.

---

Oneohtrix Point Never - Again

This covers the mind-exploding fringes of sampledelica but fresher. Or, actually... maybe that's too reductive.

I remember chimeratio hyping up "Locrian Midwest" specifically, and... yeah I can tell why. That's very him-flavored. The timbral selection is top notch. That last sentence applies to every other moment in every other track, though.

"Plastic Antique" would have murdered me in 2013.

---

Patricia Taxxon - TECHDOG 1-7

Of course this would grab me.

I would've just thought it was a delightful romp if it stopped at TECHDOG 1, but damn did it keep going.

"TETCTEHECDCHOHDGDOGOG" was an instant fav, but as time goes on, I keep finding new favorites. I think the build from birds to walls in "OCOTOCODCTCETDTHDEDGEHEGHGHG" is my fav as of writing.

That said, something that struck me imemdiately, got the most replays from me this year, from TECHDOG7: "THTCTHTOTHTCTHDHCHOHCECOCDCOGODOEODGDEDGDEGEGEGEG"

Never has a song so viscerally teleported me to a specific scenario: being a child, alone in a room without knowing why. I can feel the dust in the air. Insanely good.

---

Blawan - Dismantled Into Juice

Man.

This one hit my DNA.

The title track, "Dismantled Into Juice" not only is my fav here but it's influenced how i think abt music.

AOTY. ...EPOTY?

[tera-91]

Ranting and its only the beginning of June

The last while has been … interesting.

I haven’t heard anything from the manager so I am still in the dark if I still have a job. I feel like people are second guessing my choice to quit my job. Even if they think it was the “right” choice I keep getting asked questions. Like do you have anything lined up? Do you have another job? What are you going to do? And a bunch of other similar questions.

I cant tell if these questions are infuriating or just plain exhausting. Quiet honestly, I haven’t even applied to another job. Ive looked but haven’t applied. Its not because I think I might still have one, I think Im just decompressing.

Like I was burnt out.

Or maybe I was just overwhelmed.

I feel like I’m getting more motivated. Getting more inspiration.

I may not have finished them all but in the last almost month since I informed those that needed to know that I did not want to work there any longer I have started at least 8 stories. Im not sure that I started 8 stories in the last 6 months, maybe year.

What you just read was from several days ago. At this point I don’t even know how many days ago.

Most of the days seem to pass without getting much done as far as “physical” things so it is a little difficult to keep track.

I heard from that manager.

Jackass.

Spent easily 4 to 5 times longer on the phone than needed just to be told there are better options than me. Basically due to my physical limitations (I am not legally disabled) and my personal obligations I said before day one I couldn’t work past a certain time during certain days of the week.

So I told the higher up manager what this one said. Mostly because I have work with this manager for a long time, so I was just giving a curtesy heads up. This manager really has no say as far as that managers people so I wasn’t really expecting anything, not wanting anything. Plus at this point I had applied to a handful of jobs and put this manager as a point of reference.

No way will I ever use that manager as a reference. He is just enough of a vindictive individual that I don’t trust giving that information to perspective hiring people to speak to.

Well this manager said for me to come in. Maybe I could do something under a different manager. While not as many hours. It would just be something to keep me from fully being out. At least until this manager thinks things can be patched with that manager.

I am not hopeful.

Honestly, I don’t want to patch anything up.

I worked one shift already and know that I cant stick around.

At least not doing that.

If this manager ends up talking to that manager and that manager calls me saying things can get sorted. I honestly don’t know if I would.

The clock has been reset.

I will have some income from that shift anyway.

I have a little time before the next shift to keep me in the system.

I know what I want to do but not how to do it. I feel like I would be letting this manager down. Feel like I will be breaking a bridge. Not completely severing it. Just leaving it broken. Not quite safe to travel back across.

Im sure if that manager ended up leaving and this manager was still around, although rumor is they wont for much longer, this manager would bring me back. Little to no questions asked.

My friends have told me to do what feels right. Taking a break would be ok.

I believe them. I just havnt been able to push myself over that hurdle.

I don’t know what is stopping me.

Maybe a fear of rejection from another job opportunity I have in mind. Maybe a fear of failure when it comes to my book.

I still haven’t touched it.

I seem to be stuck in a loop.

Get up, take care of my furballs. Try to get some stuff done around the house or run errands but end up just binge watching shows that I need to catch up on. Then I feel this urge to be productive. When I feel like it would be safe to tackle things. By then though its late afternoon which is usually when I feel drained.

Then I wonder why did I not try to be productive earlier. When I didn’t feel as drained. Even though I know at that time I was lacking motivation. With one pup still recovering from surgery I didn’t feel safe leaving the room. Later afternoon is when they are also drained and sleeping.

Frustratingly.

Even when I do get the urge to do something and have the mental and physical capacity to do something. I procrastinate.

Before I sat down to write this I spent the better part of 30 minutes cleaning up a small area in my room. Then I checked to see if there were any more jobs to apply to and got a snack.

Really, I shouldn’t be writing this. But I haven’t done an update in I’m not sure how long.

Other than feeling like I could go take a nap my brain is telling me that I should be doing one of a handful of other things.

One thing I know cant take me long. Maybe 20 minutes. But no longer than 30.

Part of me feels like it is too loud. Or Im just too tired.

The next day is kind of better.

As of writing this I havnt done that thing yet but I probably will here soon.

Im still kind of tired but I feel like I cant start it until I give the pups their meds.

Finally heard back from the vet.

Not a lot of conclusive results for my big pup. Not sure why the heart did what it did but its responding to the meds. Just needs to have more frequent visits to make sure it stays that way and needs to lose some weight.

Which we have been trying and for the most part were successful. 2 pounds in 9 weeks. But then my little pup needed surgery and is not allowed to do a lot of stuff. So instead of walking several miles a week we might get just one in. I have a buggy that luckily the little one won’t jump out of and just sits as we stroll around. Its so hot that we can only go first thing which is not always an option.

I am going to get to work on some things now. Now that it is June im sure the weather is in full swing for most of everyone. Stay safe and please stay hydrated!

[kirexa]

* Viper related reasons

(^THANKS FOR THIS @runetallem LOL)

Kiri is NOT a funky little guy in post limit :3

^not entirely accurate bcuz I forget sometimes lol

Please no donation asks.

I have nothing to donate. They will be deleted.

Notes goal post

PFP is a: Brazilian rainbow boa!

Kiri interests 🤩🤩

• Twisted Wonderland

• Your Turn To Die

• Project Sekai

• SNAKES (hyperfixation)

• Mystic Messenger

• Persona Five

• Hazbin (🏴‍☠️)

I also have @identifying-snakes-in-posts !!!!!! I'll try 2 be active there :3

DO NOT FOLLOW IF SNAKES TRIGGER YOU!!! I POST UNTAGGED SNAKES N SHIT. SORRY.

Adding this above the readmore because I love attention: PLEASE TAG ME IN ANYTHING YOU THINK I WOULD LIKE I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER. SNAKES. 2ND YEARS. ANY TWST THING. ANY YTTD THING. ANYTHING.

^ Note that you can tag me in tag games but I don't usually get to them, sorry!

He/They/She or whatever idrc

Kirexa/Roma/whatever as long as it's clear you mean me

Autism + ADHD diagnosed but it always feels like I'm faking UHM also questioning cluster B (too scaredsies to genuinely label myself so it's gonna stay questioning 👍) + probably c-ptsd

If you want to be moots talk to me!!! I prommy I don't bite 🫶🫶

I AM A MINOR. I don't care if adults follow me, but do NOT follow me if you post only 18+ content.

I run @idia-spotted and @goop-painter-real for some reason, can't guarantee activity over there.

@kiris-snake-bs is where I'm gonna put a lot of my snake posting!!!!

I spam reblog tell me if u dont want me to do that to your posts

I dont vent often but if I do it will be tagged simply "k vent" or untagged. sorry.

Uh idk anything else to add I'll do some more later

MY TAGS BECAUSE IM A SILLY LOSER WHO WILL LOSE THEM IF I DONT ADD THEM;

I try to always tag #twst book 6 and #twst book 7!

I tag characters with only their first name!!! Except Akechi I usually tag him as Akechi and uhm Akira akiren Ren I use them all.

Basic things are (fandom abrv (if applicable)) art/memes/writing/maybe smth else I've used b4 but idr

#fav: favs, I usually try to keep fandom stuff out of this though! (I still put fandom stuff there tho..)

#abs fav: again self explanatory (with fandom stuff though)

#my favs: my posts!!! That I love!!! That made me happy to make!!! Posts I don't wanna lose <3

#<3: this one is weird uhn. It's just favs but when it's fandom related!

#fave: heartwarming/mental health favs <3

#*b: this is weird too IT JUST MEANS BASED ON MY LIKES LOL I don't like typing it out ><

#*: honestly I don't know I think I use it to keep track of posts that I add on to? Adding a comment on the reblog instead of just tags.

#kirexa (media): liveblogging tag!!! (Unless I go back and mass tag edit u won't find sao/dangan games/yttd under this,, smtimes I abbreviate smtimes I don't (twst is abbreviated but Witch's Heart isn't for example!))

#kirexas (media): to differentiate liveblogging tag from just thoughts I have abt a media ,, not always used.

#adventures of kiris 5yo sister - my sister being a menace

#kiri hits their fucking limit (real!!1!1): me when I fuckign hit my (post) limit with one post

#kiri shrieks ★: laugh out loud tag

#kirexa answers: self explanatory lolol

#kirexa hall of fame: anything funny that is even vaguely kirexa related

///

2023 tree

///

(^mostly satire. Mostly.)

Going absolutely insnae*

[daemonhxckergrrl]

re: your ask from greyr4t about win10: as you said in your answer its free, just needs a key for 'activation.' ime activating win10 has been worth it. like you mentioned, it isnt strictly necessary, one can make do fine in a somewhat limited capacity with the watermark in the corner forever (unless your monitor is an OLED then have fun with 100% guaranteed screen burn in lmao. or unless always seeing it enrages you disproportionately. as in my case). but having windows activated is honestly just nice, it makes many things easier and is more sustainable in the long run... worth the extremely minor hassle as like a QoL thing imo. you also brought up that its possible to circumvent microsoft (and its brazenly insane asking prices 🤬) & buy cheap keys online from third parties. i wanted to talk about how i did shit, hopefully it helps the original asker directly or at least comes in handy to know

so i bought my (shady bootleg, yes, but perfectly functional for years now) win10 activation key for even cheaper than what Synthia listed as a price point- iirc, under 5 bucks USD. (might be higher now w inflation, but id be surprised if its much more than around 10.) if things still work how they used to, you can do this on ebay. technically ebays policies dont allow it, so the accounts selling these keys come and go frequently due to getting shut down by ebay after popping up. thus, dont necessarily be put off if the seller hasnt existed for long, as often thats just how it goes (or it did. hopefully this sort of thing is still going strong🤞); do trust happy reviews. now, there are a few TYPES of activation keys– priced slightly different, nothing big– that correspond to different editions of windows 10. so basically its home edition, pro edition, and "pro for workstations". might be worth finding a brief summary of each to determine which edition best meets your needs. (there are more editions beyond the main trio, look into those too if you want, but the tldr on em is theyre for like niche markets w/ highly specific use cases.) fwiw, i got pro & am happy with it. another thing, from personal experience: may or may not be obvious but you're gonna wanna save a screenshot of your key somewhere safe and accessible. additionally though, label the screenshot somehow so you know what it is later, and if youre a disorganized scatterbrain like i am then put that in multiple places you can reliably access so if/when youre having trouble tracking it down you know where else to look; it came in handy for me to have access to it in places both online (cloud storage like google drive or dropbox for example, or even just saving the email copy of the ebay mssg in the designated folder in your email for the ones containing info you wanna save) & off (physical note on paper, stored in the files on one or more personal devices, etc). theres a huge chance youll need it again in the future– like say if you want to upgrade certain hardware– and likely more than once. final advice: highly recommend looking into comprehensive ways of "defanging" and/or "lobotomizing" windows, as they say. i.e., a tip that gets circulated is doing the initial setup for windows w your pc in airplane mode / ethernet unplugged so you dont have to make a microsoft account so they cant create a profile on you to collect your data to sell off & target ads at you (which is obvi totally reversible later if you decide the benefits of having an account outweigh the drawbacks). shit like that, plus the loads of guides out there– many here on tumblr itself– on extensive fucking around in various settings to disable bloatware / preserve privacy / other useful stuff, that can get pretty granular. i think ive even seen Synthia herself reblog posts like that here a couple times, maybe? perhaps try checking relevant-seeming tags from the tagging system in her pinned, or do a blog search for the term 'windows' and see what all there is to find

phew, anyway, jesus christ! sorry this got to be such a long writeup!!! some of this blog's aggregate of resources have been a big help to me, so i wanted to try to pay it forward a little <3 and, Synthia, if you wouldnt mind, tagging the original asker in your response to this anon so that greyr4t is more likely to see all this would be very much appreciated by me!! ty in advance!! thanks also for your careful curation of useful info on this blog, plus the helpful posts and guides youve written here for us yourself 👍🌈

hi anon ! thanks for writing all this up !! lots of great points here - hopefully they help you out @greyr4t ! the airplane mode one is real important too if you care about privacy (and the fact you can't choose to make a local account during installation unless you are disconnected from the internet is awful and yet another dark pattern-type tactic.

i'm glad my blog's been good for you <3 (though i do need to go through and make all the important stuff a bit easier to access at some point)

iirc there's some reblogs on general privacy stuff (probably under one of the REPO tags and like "net privacy" or similar) as well as my own firefox post, and maybe more will happen in the future when i get to them

[elysianslove]

Hello! Could you maybe write something for sukuna with a dom s/o? He’s so cocky and that just makes me wanna see him put in his place lmaoo

oh my god ❤️👅❤️ also im sorry this is so late hdvjahd im losing track of requests i am so sorry pls forgive me

nsfw under the cut, my loves! <3

━ he’d agreed to this. you desperately want to remind him that, especially with the way he won’t stop glaring at you like you’d committed treason. as you tighten the rope on his wrist, securing his arms to the headboard of the bed and limiting his movements, you lean back, and stick a tongue out at him childishly. 

“you do realize you’re only going to make things worse for yourself if you keep squirming,” you point out, and push your hips rougher against his. sukuna huffs, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he continues to glare at you. the first thing you’d done when you’d managed to convince sukuna of this had been to stuff his pretty mouth with your underwear, and he’d fought against it, his canines tearing through some of the fabric. eventually, though, he’d relented, somehow, and fell back against the bed.

wanna see your cute self try, he’d said. you almost want to laugh at where he is now.

you’d considered a blindfold too, but being deprived of his noises was more than enough. besides, you wanted him to watch as you ruined him, picked up apart piece by piece. honestly, you weren’t even planning for anything grand or over the top, nothing that could make him back out should you ask of him of this a second time. 

humming to yourself lightly, you drag your nails along his chest, tracing the dark markings, before you reach his nipples. your hands massage his pectorals, your thumbs dancing over his nipples as they harden beneath your featherlight touch. ever so slightly, his chest heaves, and without warning, you grab his nipple between two fingers and squeezing roughly, enough to shoot pain thoroughly through him and have his chest buck up into your touch the tiniest inch. you hum again, nonchalant about what you’d just done, before dipping your head, capturing the hard bud between your lips, before pushing past and encasing it between your teeth, tugging sharply. 

sukuna grunts above you, his hips swaying as if to push you off. his arms strain from above him, and it’s not that he’s fighting to let himself free. he’s fighting so he doesn’t accidentally tear through the bindings. it’s another reason you weren’t too wary when sukuna had agreed, because you knew, at any given moment, he could push you away and let himself go. but here he is, succumbing to you, leaving himself as vulnerable as it gets. the idea drives you wild with power. 

mouth still latched onto his nipple, you glance up at him, only to find his head thrown back, his jaw tight around the fabric in his mouth. your brows furrow with dissatisfaction, and you unlatch your lips, shuffling up to him to grab his jaw in your hands, roughly shifting his head to have him gaze at you. at the look in your eyes, his own widen, before he frowns deeper and fists his palms. “i want you to watch,” you order him, but he doesn’t listen, urging his chin out of your grasp suddenly and looking away. even rougher than before, you grab his chin again, your nails digging into his cheek as you stare into his eyes. “don’t be a fucking brat,” you spit out. “watch.” 

once confirming for yourself that his eyes will remain on you, your mouth finds its way back to his chest. this time, instead of fixating on one single spot, you leave a trail of wet kisses and darkening bruises all along, licking and sucking on wherever you could, especially the areas where his moans went up an octave, like his lower abdomen. finally, you come face to face with his dick, straining hard and proud against his stomach, the tip oozing a steady flow of precum. you give your lips an anticipatory lick, and watch as his hips buck up in excitement, but instead of reaching for his dick, you place open mouthed kisses along his inner thighs, decorating and painting him pink and blue and purple. his grunts are louder now, more desperate and needy, less careful. he bucks his hips up again, and angrily, you sit up, placing your hand directly on his hip, right next to where his throbbing dick lies untouched and twitching.

“stay still,” you sneer, and he growls loudly. a few incoherent noises and words tumble out, but you don’t bother to try and understand, only mesmerized by the way drool has spilled on either side of his face, smeared by his constant movement. his cheeks and chest are flushed, nipples perked up and back slightly arched. he looks so good. lost in a slight daze, you lower yourself again to his dick, and slowly, you grab it. one steady hand grasps it at the base, and sukuna outright whines when he finally feels the pressure, his head thrown back momentarily. until you bring your other hand up to the tip of cock, and graze your fingernails along the weeping slit, the pink of the head so alluring. 

sukuna’s eyes widen at the feeling, and he shifts his gaze back to you, watching as your nails and the tips of your fingers dance along the skin of the tip, your other hand occasionally squeezing the base. both your hands are wet and messy with precum, and sukuna, for a humiliating moment, wonders if you were actually capable of making him cum like this. the embarrassment flushes his face even redder, and his hips push against the mattress, trying to get away from your touch.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” you tease, tutting lightly. “for me to touch you?” your grip on his is so firm, no movement shifts you whatsoever. his eyes widen further as the telltale signs of his orgasm approach, and fuck, fuck, fuck he does not want to cum like this. you can hear his chest heaving harshly, the underwear in his mouth completely damp from his spit and drool. he continuously makes shocked and almost scared noises? it makes the heat between your legs strengthen. 

you lean forward slightly and press the flat of your tongue against what isn’t being stimulated by your hands, the muscle in your mouth running along the ridges and veins of his cock. you can feel his cock twitch and throb and jump and it’s so beautiful, sukuna’s the most beautiful like this. 

you are, however, quick to change your mind about that when, unexpectedly and surprisingly, he cums, thick spurts of it staining the fingers that had been tickling at his tip. it travels weakly down his cock, which remains hard as ever in your right grasp. 

with a grin, proud and satisfied eyes meet his, and you see a single tear slip out of his eye. no, he’s much more beautiful like this. absolutely ruined. 

end note; got way too carried away rip. but i hope this satisfies some of y’alls fantasies even if it’s a little ooc 😼 

[sleptwithinthesun]

🌦💟❣️🤧 any combination, all, some, one, wherever your inspiration takes you!

reveal of how fUCKING LONG it takes to me to write a fic lmao. this is yet another d/c fic, because why not. t/im d/rake, of course, along with some j/ason t/odd. 1.5K words of angst and (mostly) fluff. tysm for the prompt, i love you for sending it, and i’m so sorry about the issues with posting this 

tw: brief mentions of blood (skip "Tim?" and start again at "Why're you so..." if that's triggering for you) and injuries

There’s a small puddle of water on the floor next to a closed window when Jason enters his safehouse, with wet tracks leading from it to the bathroom, where the light inside is shining under the door. Jason wouldn’t say that it’s unusual to come back to a scene similar to this, but he will admit to himself that it’s starting to happening with a concerning frequency. 

“Tim?” he calls, stripping off his leather jacket to hang in on the hook by the door. He’s still in the Kevlar-padded canvas pants and Kevlar vest Batman had insisted on, the Red Hood helmet tucked casually under his arm. “Please tell me you’re not bleeding out on my tiles again.” 

Jason grins as something clatters to the ground and Tim swears. “That was one time!” he replies, “and frankly, it was impressive that I managed to get here in the first place.” 

“Yeah, except you left a trail of blood from the window to the bathroom. Looked like a murder scene in here for days until I could get the stains out.” He finishes unclasping the straps on his boots, placing them and his helmet in the storage closet just off the bathroom before moving to look at his brother’s entry point. “At least you closed the window this time.” 

“Bleeding. Out.” 

“Why’re you so wet anyway?” 

“It’s, uh, a bit drizzly outside.” 

Jason eyes the puddle of water and following trail with skepticism. “Are you sure about that, Timbo?” 

“We might’ve had a flash flood warning,” he amends, although that barely means anything to those in Gotham. There’s some shuffling from the other side of the door, and Jason can hear his cabinets opening and closing. Tim emerges a second later, dressed in the spare set of clothes he keeps at Jason’s, and the elder sucks in a quick breath once he actually registers the full extent of the kid’s injuries. 

Tim’s usually pretty good at taking care of himself in a fight, but whatever happened today must have tested his limits. He’s limping slightly, left ankle wrapped, with gauze rolled around his left bicep as well. There’s already a bit of blood leaking through, though, and he’s got a good collection of cuts on the lower part of his face as well as an already-purpling black eye. “Holy shit, Tim, what happened?” 

His brother nearly trips trying to get over to him, and Jason’s not shy about grabbing Tim’s arms to support him. “Mm… wasn’t too bad, just— agh, watch the ribs, please —the League causing issues. Dozen of them ambushed me; got thrown through a window and slipped during a grapple since one of them cut my line. Would’ve landed it, ’s just that the rooftops were slippery.” 

“You’re getting sick, too,” Jason says. It’s not a question, the tone deliberate as to not accuse Tim but not giving him room to deny it either. He can already hear the hints of congestion in the kid’s voice, and while Tim’d try to attribute the gentle swelling of his sinuses to the shiner, Jason can tell what it really is. “Get on the couch.” 

“Thanks,” Tim says, settling down and rubbing at a point just under his eye. “Uh, yeah, I think I might be. Was feeling kind of crappy earlier, and the rain didn’t exactly help.” He smiles ruefully before pressing a light sneeze into his elbow. “h’tsh’uh!” 

Although it sounds weird, Jason has always marveled at how small Tim’s natural sneezes are. Whereas his own tend to tear out of him, often leaving Jason the center of attention, Tim’s are barely noticeable. It’s not even the consequences of him growing up in the lap of society; Jason’s been with him at his worst in the middle of spring and still managed to miss at least four separate sneezing fits. 

“Gesundheit,” he murmurs, prodding at the kid’s foot from where it’s propped on the arm of the couch. “Your ankle’ll be fine, it’s just a sprain.” 

Tim nods, eyes glazing over before he sneezes again, a hurried double this time. “hk’ish! ut’shuh! Yeah, that’s what I figured. Think you could get me some ice?” 

“What do you think, I actually care about you?” Jason scoffs, standing up to grab a pack anyway. There’s not much he wouldn’t do for Tim, to be honest; the kid’s already the only one who actually has the location of his safehouse, but he still has to make sure to keep a healthy enough distance between them. Just in case. 

“Maybe you do, just a little bit,” Tim says, grinning, and Jason rolls his eyes. “I’m serious! There’s always a chance.” 

Opening his freezer reveals that he has entirely too many different ice packs; gels, beads, wraparounds, even just a bucket of ice and a Ziploc bag. The life of a vigilante, Jason supposes, taking out one of the wraparounds and undoing the velcro straps in preparation. “You don’t have a preference for ice pack type, do you?” he asks, taking out a gel one for his brother’s eye. 

“Nah, whh— whatever works best is fine with me,” Tim calls back. 

Good. Jason makes his way back to the living room where Tim is shuddering with a suppressed sneeze, completely silent as his shoulders tense and his head bobs forward. “Ugh,” he groans, sniffling, “that fucking hurt.” 

“Gesundheit,” Jason tells him, tossing the gel pack at him before approaching his ankle with the wraparound. “Why are you doing it, then?” 

Tim sighs, pressing the ice pack against his right eye, directly over the shiner. “’S better than letting them out.” 

It takes a second for the implications of that statement to fully hit Jason, but once they do, he’s immediately sympathetic. “Shit, kid, your ribs?” 

Tim nods. “Mm-hm. It’ll be fine, Jay, don’t worry. I’ve dealt with way worse.” 

“You know, saying that really doesn’t make it any better.” Jason finishes arranging the ice pack, then walks away in search of tissues. There should be some in his bathroom cabinet, and if there aren’t, then Tim can make do with toilet paper. Thankfully, though, he does actually find Kleenex, and makes his way back to the couch with them. “Here.” 

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim murmurs, and Jason fights to resist the urge to card his fingers through his little brother’s hair like he’s a child, even if he does look like one, curled up on the couch with one leg out to keep his ankle up. Instead, he sits down on the coffee table, knee almost touching the couch. “Knew you loved me.” 

“Yeah, right,” he tells him, without any heat in his words. “Keep dreaming.” 

When Tim doesn’t respond to that one, Jason glances over to find him staring up at the light, eyes slightly unfocused with what he assumes is an oncoming sneeze. “Another one?” 

Tim nods, breath stuttering in his chest for a few seconds, until he’s suddenly tensing with those same silent sneezes, gasping after each one to get to the next. The pain is visible on his face, tears welling up in his eyes coupled with a grimace tearing at his lips. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself, pulling a tissue out of the box once he’s finished. 

“Bless you,” Jason murmurs, reaching a hand out to feel his forehead. “You’re not feverish yet. How long do you think it’ll be before this gets bad?” 

“Give me a day.” He groans and rolls over to look at Jason. “I don’t know. It’ll probably settle in overnight and I’ll wake up feeling even worse.” 

Jason can only nod in sympathy, though he knows it won’t give Tim much comfort. The thing about a missing spleen is that none of them— not Jason, not Dick, not Bruce, none of them —really get what it’s like for Tim to have to deal with, how he has to be wary of every single scrape and cut, they only see the aftermath. Tim has the dosages of his antibiotics down to a science for every scenario, memorized how to deal with everything he possibly could, to the point where he’ll surprise Bruce by correcting him on a treatment. It’s why Jason wasn’t even worried when he saw the cut on his bicep earlier, because he knows that Tim is perfectly capable of dealing with it on his own. 

But considering the fact that he’s sick, and that he’s at risk for infection, and the bruising on his ribs… 

Jason lets the silence stretch between them for a moment more before nudging Tim gently with his leg. “You want to tell me why you came here instead of going to the Cave? And why you haven’t even called Bruce to let him know where you are?” 

“Not really,” Tim says, all the exhaustion present in his body language seeping into his voice. “Tomorrow?” 

“Sure, kid,” Jason whispers back, smoothing his brother’s hair out of his face as his eyes slip closed, relaxing further into the couch cushions. “Tomorrow.” 

[alex-guerin]

Diego...you're pushing this grant for a place that is "above the red tape"...I don't like the sounds of this. This...sounds military. It sounds...like it has something to do with the Manes men....I trust TWO (2) Manes men (...okay, potentially three (3)...Tripp is still an unknown in my opinion so far, though).

Yes! Good! Get 'im, Michael! Flint needs to have the snot beat out of him!

Oh Rosa...sweetie...you deserved so much better than what life has handed you. I hope you get better and nothing bad happens to you and that you and Isobel can be friends....

Kyle Valenti and Max Evans trying to be sneaky and searching Flint Manes' house for info not regarding the missing Sneaky Sneaky Codebreaker Alex Manes is just hilarious. Boys, hiding in a closet? Really? No kissing in there, okay? Kyle, last time you hid in a closet you and Liz ended up kissing....you don’t have a great track record for hiding in closets, Valenti.

"Dude. Anyone ever tell you you smell like rain?" Kyle...really? I just can’t with your dumbass. Really!!

Michael, beat the snot out of that smarmy no good rotten bigoted racist asshole that doesn't even deserve to be the slime under his brother's boots.

Okay. No. NO!! YOU BITCH! YOU DO NOT GET TO LIMIT MICHAEL'S TELEKINESIS AND BLACKMAIL HIM INTO BUILDING YOU A FUCKING BOMB! YOU BITCH!! YOU HELPED TO KIDNAP ALEX! LIZ! ROSA! KILL YOUR MOTHER! SHE'S BAD AND WICKED!!

Maxwell. You are becoming a junkie on Liz's antidote...this is not good. Not good at all...

Kyle Valenti. How did you go from high school jackass to such an adorable, sweet dork?

And omg I am legit terrified for my precious Michael. Like, he's being forced to help build a bomb that will ultimately kill him, Liz, and Max. And probably Rosa. And potentially even Mimi Deluca and Maria Deluca. Depending on how much alien DNA is still present in them? Remains to be seen on their front...

I love the love-hate relationship between Isobel and Maria. It's fantastic.

"If disaster doesn't strike, justice can't be served" there's something wrong with that sentence...Michael, figure it out for me. And then beat the snot out of Helena Ortecho. And Flint and Jesse Manes just for good measure.

Nope. I change my mind about Diego. I don't trust him.

And that had better not be my Alex chained to a fucking radiator!

It is! It's my baby! And Michael found him! And they're hugging!! And Michael was worried about him!

"Your leg..." "Yeah, they took my prosthetic. I tried to bludgeon my brother with it" omg Alex Manes how are you so fucking perfect??

MY BABIES!

"She's avenging her murdered lover," "Oh my God, I love a good Tela Novela" Isobel, seriously? Alex is still in trouble, dammit! That thing will target Manes blood! ...my only hope is that it takes Flint along with it....

"He wants the parades, he wants the medals..." all I hear in my head is Tony Stark, "He's a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades. He wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered...son-of-a-bitch..." which oddly seemed to fit with Liz's line of thought there...

Have I mentioned that I love Sanders, lately? May nothing bad ever happen to the man who tried so hard to adopt Michael but was refused every time...

Also, definitely definitely no longer trust Diego. He is NOT good peoples. Screw him! I hope he gets his!

Noooo! No good can come from this!

Max Evans, how many times are you going to die? Is this going to become a running season ending? You dying somehow? Did you at least take out Flint, first?

"You know what he is, son." "I know what he means to Alex." Bless you Gregory Manes! Bless you! May the sun forever shine on your beautiful soul.

Omg Maria got a dose of the alien destroying bomb...not good. Not good at all...I may not like her being with Michael, but I do like her and want her to be okay!

GREGORY MANES! YOU BEAUTIFUL PRECIOUS THING!!! YOU SAVED ALEX AND MICHAEL!!! ...I just hope you don't get sent away for killing your father. Self-defense plea?

...people are calling Jesse Manes a...savior? WHAT. THE. FUCK???

Diego, you need to leave. Go away. Leave now. Be gone.

Michael and Alex destroying the shed is *chef kiss*

Weirdly enough, I ship Liz/Max more in the reboot than I did in the original series. That's weird, right? Like, original series I was totally Michael/Maria and was eh over Liz and Max. Reboot I am all for Liz and Max and much of the no for Maria and Michael. It's weird. I know it's weird. Shuddup.

Yes. Good. Break up. Because Michael belongs with Alex. How many times must I scream this? THEY’RE COSMIC!!!

"It's as if we were built from the same star. Brought together by something cosmic..." uhhhh sooooo...Alex's great uncle Tripp had a cosmic connection to Michael's mom? I have so many questions but none of them matter because THEY'RE COSMIC!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

I love the awkward look between Michael and Alex after Alex read that line and Isobel is just sitting there all dreamy thinking how romantic it is. While those two are like, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....."

Jenna Cameron you are perfection. That is all.

"I am vaguely uncomfortable with this description of my mom tasting ice cream for the first time..." lmao! That or are you vaguely uncomfortable with the fact your mom and Alex's great(great?) Uncle were uh...rather close?

Yuuup. They were definitely close! O.o so weird seeing og Max Evans as a human falling for an alien! My brain is getting so screwed lol!

Max...I'm not sure if Liz is going to forgive you for blowing up her lab, even if it was for her (and yours, Michael, and Izzy's) best interest because Diego is scuuuuuuuum!

Waaaait...waaaaait...no. Is Max....Tripp and Nora's son?? To the Google I go! Tell me your secrets Google....

The Google tells me no, Max is not Nora and Tripp's son. I guess that's kind of a relief...

Awwwww! Charlie and Jenna!!!

"I apologized. I STOPPED." Did you tho, Liz? Did you? Because I don't think you did.

Max, you did kinda have that coming...

Omg...omg...omg...Alex singing. Alex. Is. Singing. I...think I'm totally in love!!!

My baby! MY BABY!! SINGING A SONG FOR MICHAEL! I CAN'T! OH GADS!!

*shrill screaming that breaks the windows of every house on the block*

TYLER BLACKBURN WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO HAVE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL VOICE AND MAKE ME FEEL THINGS?!?!?

OH GODS! THE LOOK BETWEEN ALEX AND MICHAEL!

🎶🎵You never looked away, now I can't look away...🎵🎶

Oh my God...I am legit crying over Alex's song. Someone please tell me Tyler has the full thing released somewhere? I'm running to Youtube to check...

OMG IT'S ON YOUTUBE!! I AM SCREAMING AND SOBBING!!!

IT'S ON PANDORA,TOO??? AHHHHHHHH!!!! *screams in sobbing mess*

I know how this episode ends...I don't think I can bring myself to watch Michael leave the bar and see the heartbreak on Alex's face...I just...y'know what...gonna skip the rest of this scene. Can't see my baby's heart shattering knowing Michael left before the end of the song. I'm just gonna download this song and listen to it on repeat for the rest of my life. Goodnight all...

[mxvladdy]

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate! 

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing. 

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file. 

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack. 

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet. 

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.   

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves. 

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens. 

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.” 

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master  that we will be taking the rest of the day off.” 

“We?” 

“Of course.”  He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep. 

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves. 

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely.  It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist. 

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler. 

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.” He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply.  He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.” 

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.” 

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.  

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face.  “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.” 

“By what?” 

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders.  Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others. 

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage,  just his regular old human. 

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too. 

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?” 

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild.  Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless.  You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot. 

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.”  Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!”  He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!” 

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly. 

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted. 

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!” 

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck. 

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods. 

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the  taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore.  The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

[paterson-blue]

Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

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