#like i do have an idea for one ive been gnawing on but the thought of actually doing it and putting it out there is terrifying

[artingstarvist]

Idk why but whenever I read a coffin rescue fic it always makes me wanna write my own version. I don't even remember the last time I wrote something creatively I've probably forgotten how lol. Gotta be at least a decade, which is a shame bc I used to love writing.

[jeysbvck]

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

-

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

-

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

-

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this. 

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

*

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

-

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

[uzurakis]

as a fellow nagumo lover, how about i request nagumo saving reader (who’s also an assassin) while she’s badly injured and teasing her as she recovers 🙃

your eyes flutter awake, and you're greeted by the sight of yoichi nagumo lounging in a chair by your bed, his feet propped up on the edge. those dark eyes light up the moment he sees you stir.

"well, look who's decided to join the land of the living~!" he exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face. awhile ago, you slowly regain consciousness, the beeping of the hospital machines faintly registering in your ears. the body of yours feels heavy and sore, memories of the mission flooding back; remembering the ambush, the fight, and then the pain. but most of all, you remember nagumo’s face, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he saved you. and you don’t see that often, never, actually.

you try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a croak. nagumo jumps up, leaning over you with an exaggeratedly concerned expression.

"oh no! have you forgotten how to talk? i guess i'll just have to handle all the conversation from now on," he says, feigning a dramatic sigh.

you roll your eyes, managing to croak out, "water."

he grabs a cup of water from the table, but instead of handing it to you, he holds it just out of your reach. "first, you have to answer a riddle. what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?"

"nagumo, seriously?" you rasp, your annoyance mingled with a slight, very tiny hint of amusement. man, i just woke up, you say in your head.

he only chuckles and finally gives you the water. "fine, i'll let you off this time. but only because you look like you’ve been through a meat grinder."

the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you take a grateful sip. "thanks.. for the rescue," you manage to say.

nagumo waves his hand dismissively. "oh, don't mention it. just another day in the life of your favorite assassin."

don't mention it, he says with a casual wave of his hand, his trademark grin firmly in place. but beneath that easygoing facade, he's a whirlwind of emotions. the memory of finding you bleeding and unresponsive still haunts him, a gnawing fear that he might lose you forever. he can still feel the cold dread that settles in his stomach when you don't respond to his frantic calls, the way his heart pounds in his chest as he carries you to safety. every step is a desperate prayer that you'll hold on, that you'll survive. seeing you lying so still, so vulnerable, shakes him to his core. regardless of his lighthearted demeanour, he can't shake the residual anxiety of nearly losing you, the concern that one day his abilities may be worthless to keep you safe.

"favorite, huh?" you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain.

"absolutely," he says, winking. "and you know, you gave us quite a scare. i mean, i had to carry you all the way back here. do you have any idea how heavy you are?"

you glare at him playfully. "maybe if you weren't so scrawny, it wouldn't have been a problem."

the guy laughs, the sound infectious. "touché. but really, you had us all worried. even sakamoto looked like he might actually break a sweat."

"i'm sorry," you say softly, feeling a pang of guilt for the trouble you caused. “i really thought it could handle them by myself. sorry..”

nagumo's expression softens for a moment, his usual levity giving way to genuine concern. "hey, don't apologize. i've got your back, and you've got mine. besides, it’s not like i’d let anything happen to my favorite partner, riiight? why are you looking at me like that?”

before you can respond, he suddenly leans in close, a mischievous glint in black pupils. "oh, by the way, did i tell you? i told the nurses you’re afraid of needles. so they might have a surprise for you when they come to change your IV."

your eyes widen in horror, and he bursts out laughing at your reaction. "relax, i’m kidding. or am i? guess you’ll find out soon enough."

"you rascal," you mutter, shaking your head.

"you owe me a box of pocky sticks," he says with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

despite the pain and exhaustion, you can’t help but smile. "i guess i do."

he reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. "get some rest. i’ll be here when you wake up. and who knows, maybe i’ll have another riddle for you."

"great," you say sarcastically, if it’s not for your injuries, maybe you’ve already thrown a pillow at his face. though, you know you can always count on him to be there for you, pranks and all.

@uzurakis

[todorokis-girl]

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (VI)

Chapters: Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter

masterlist

taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02 , @alien-00715-blog

After the intense fighting earlier that day, she decided to take the rest of the day off. She had regained some sensation to her fingers and nose simply by warming herself up (and to be honest, Shouto had insisted on standing as close to her as possible until she felt better). Every time any of Touya’s family members treated her so kindly, she remembered what was going on with him, and how by extension, she was lying to them too. Would they forgive her? Would they think less of her?

The living room, usually a sanctuary of calm, felt oddly oppressive. She changed into her home clothes and settled into her couch the moment she was done preparing to spend the evening in. It had been a while since she had any semblance of normality. Her free time had consisted of correcting assignments, dangerous hero work, and late-night walks attempting to find a peaceful resolution to the situation with Touya, or more like Dabi. She was already starting to feel the toll of it all over her body. Something had to give, but she couldn’t figure out what to give.

Giving up on her responsibilities as a hero meant forsaking the very essence of who she was, the reason she fought so hard every day. Abandoning her hero students, the bright young minds she had vowed to protect and guide, was unthinkable. They looked up to her, depended on her. But giving up on Touya meant abandoning hope, surrendering to the idea that he was beyond saving. It meant accepting that she had failed him, and she wasn't sure she could live with that. The conflict gnawed at her, a constant battle within that left her weary and restless.

After a while of watching a movie, she heard a subtle knock on the sliding doors to her balcony. Turning off the TV, she was settled in the dark, deciding if it was actually what she heard. She was on the top floor of a very high building, and the fire escape was the opposite way. A knock on her balcony sliding doors was unrealistic; but, she heard it again. She stood up from her space on the couch and walked over to them, slowly making a silhouette on the other side of the curtain.

“Stop being so paranoid, it’s just me,” The familiar voice settled in her ears. Touya. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself now that she knew it was him. She took a step forward and opened the curtains, leaving the doors closed and locked.

“Are you going to open up?”

She glared at him and leaned her head a little to the side, making sure not to move a muscle. They had already had one encounter today. Yes, he had decided that he wasn’t going to kill her and tried to warm her up before she was rescued, but she still didn’t feel out of the edge quite yet. She felt his eyes roam her body, taking her in. “Appropriate home attire, makes me wanna come over more often,” he remarked with a smirk. She looked down at herself, remembering that she had worn an old crop top and a simple pair of underwear, obviously not expecting visits.

“I’ll go change.”

“No, please, I can’t have that,” he looked at her and tapped on the window one more time with his pointer finger. “I really just want to talk though. I want to hear our story from your side. Then I’ll tell you mine.”

She swallowed and looked over at a distance in consideration. “You seem very calm.”

“I thought I said I wouldn’t kill you. If I wanted you dead, there wouldn’t be a better chance than today.”

She looked him over once more, trying to gauge the sincerity in his eyes, the tension in his posture. Slowly, she walked to the door, taking a deep breath and sliding the door open, stepping to the side to allow him to pass.

As he stepped inside, the cold night air followed him, a stark contrast to the warmth she had been clinging to. He glanced around the room, taking in the modest, cozy décor. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

"Nice place," he commented, his tone neutral.

"Thanks," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why now, Touya? Why come here tonight?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I can't keep pretending that everything is black and white. I need to understand. I need you to understand."

She nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. Despite everything, despite the chaos and the pain, there was still a part of her that wanted to sweet, intense, determined boy she never got to meet. 

"Alright," she said softly, gesturing to the couch. "Let's talk."

They sat down, the space between them feeling like a chasm. She could feel the weight of his presence, the deepness of his gaze.

"Start from the beginning," he said quietly. "What’s your story"

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and began to speak, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "It all started when you ‘died’..."

She paused, her throat dry from the emotion welling up inside her. “Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee, or something stronger if you prefer.”

He looked at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Tea would be nice.”

She nodded, grateful for the brief reprieve. She moved to the kitchen, the familiar routine calming her nerves slightly. She put the kettle on, her mind racing with the story she was about to unfold. As the water boiled, she glanced back at Touya, who was watching her intently, his eyes softer than she remembered.

Returning with two steaming mugs of tea, she handed one to him and sat back down, cradling her own mug for warmth and comfort. The room was dimly lit, with a soft glow from the various electronics and the room, and the yellow light of lamp casting shadows on the walls. Shelves lined with books and trinkets hinted at a life filled with memories and secrets. The aroma of the tea mingled with the faint scent of burning wood, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and reflection.

She watched him take a sip, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. Accepting his look of satisfaction as her cue to continue, she began, her voice stronger this time. “It all started when you ‘died’,” she repeated. “Back then… Endeavor never stopped looking for your soulmate, and after a couple of days of your death, he found me. At the time, I was at an orphanage. From what I hear, my parents weren’t soulmates and decided to give me up when they finally found theirs. So he took me in.”

Touya sipped his tea again, his gaze never leaving hers, his blue eyes intense and searching.

“I was given all the ‘benefits’ that would’ve gone to you,” she continued, her tone tinged with a mix of bitterness and nostalgia. “I had the privilege to bond with Shouto during his training. Endeavor encouraged me to pursue hero work and figure skating. I always felt a little confused and disoriented because of the constant conflicting emotions. I was told over and over again that it was a normal sign of ‘soulmate loss,’ so I never really thought about it twice, always assuming it was just a thing I had to deal with.”

She paused to take a sip of her tea, savoring the warmth as it spread through her. 

“And then?” he asked, moving an inch closer to her, his interest piqued.

“And then,” she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “I found out about Dabi. Some random stroke of luck sent me on a mission where I had to save some people from a building being on fire with his flames. It was an odd sensation. I started looking into him after that, and everything confused me. The connection between you and him. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but the more I learned, the more it made sense. It broke my heart, Touya. It broke me. But I couldn’t give up on you. Not then, not now. The idea that you’ve been alive all this time…”

She placed her mug on the wooden table in her living room, her fingers lingering on the rim as she tried to relax herself. It was the first honest opportunity she had had to properly talk to him about everything. It had been a year of this back and forth, and the building realization that this might finally be getting resolved, even if partially, allowed her to release some tension.

“I…” Touya started and paused, his eyes searching hers as he thought over what he had to say. “We’ve met before.”

“What?” she looked at him, surprise etched on her face. The revelation hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with the promise of more secrets to unravel.

“We were fifteen, you were buying some snacks at a convenience store. I had heard about you previously and had been watching you, making sure you were okay knowing you were living there.” He chose his words carefully, aware that from her perspective, this might have been a fleeting moment, easily forgotten. “I followed you there, and as you were choosing some snacks, I decided to approach you and introduce myself.”

Her eyes widened, and her breathing quickened. Memories she had long buried started to surface, each one sharper and more vivid than before. “I remember that… I thought you had read my arm and just wanted to hit on me…”

He swallowed hard, the weight of the past pressing down on him. “Your face mostly read disgust, and I could see how much you wanted me to die.”

“I believe you,” she said, her voice trembling. “The very idea of anyone pretending to be you would drive me into a rage. I thought…”

“I know that now,” he interrupted gently, his tone filled with understanding. “I didn’t realize then how much pain and confusion you were carrying. I just wanted to see you, to know you were real.”

She looked down at her hands, the warmth of the tea seeping into her skin. “That day… I told Endeavor about it, and he himself flew into a rage, a bad one. I…felt something strange when I saw you then. I couldn't put it into words, but it was like a part of me recognized you, even though my mind didn’t. It was painful to think about then, so I moved on.”

Touya nodded, his expression softening. “I felt it too. It was a lot. I knew I had to keep my distance. From my perspective, you rejected me, but it was hard. Every instinct told me to stay close, to reveal everything, but I couldn’t. It just made me angrier to think about you. The more I thought about you, the more I wanted you dead along with him. And your name on my arm, your emotions consistently there, never allowed me to forget.”

A silence settled between them, filled with the unspoken emotions of years lost and a connection rediscovered. The light in the room played across their faces, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the complexities of their past, it added an almost surreal quality to the moment, as if the past and present were merging into one.

She finally met his gaze again, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I wish I had known. Maybe things could have been different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice low and contemplative. “But we’re here now, and we have to deal with the consequences.”

She nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yes, we do. And I want to know everything, Touya. No more secrets.”

He reached out, his hand covering hers, offering a silent promise of honesty and connection. “No more secrets,” he echoed, the weight of his words carrying the hope of a new beginning. Even though he knew, in the back of his mind, that as much as he craved being with her and living happily ever after, they would probably never get the chance.

He moved closer to her, his eyes flickering down to her lips. In one swift movement, their lips met, the kiss filled with a mixture of longing and desperation, a culmination of years of unspoken words and hidden feelings. His sadness seeped into it, the taste of the tea lingered between them, mingling with the raw emotion that surged to the surface.

As they pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “More than you can imagine.”

He didn’t know if she has processed what would happened next but even if just right now, qhile they were together, they could have a normal moment, he wouldn’t break the spell they were in. He never though they’d have this, and she probably gave up on it years ago, why would he break the hearts of both of them now? They had a life time to do that. 

They stayed like that for a moment, absorbing the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence, they had found a piece of solace in their shared truth. 

“Whatever happens,” she said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, “we face it together.”

He nodded, determination hardening his features. His current thought procesess tempting to leak out, but at the end“Together,” he agreed. “No matter what.” Even if it was a lie. 

[ghosttotheparty]

come crawling faster

read on AO3

Eddie’s rings are clean of blood when he wakes up.

It doesn’t occur to him until later, as he’s laying in bed trying to sleep, that someone must have cleaned the for him, and the thought twirls the air around him like a tornado. He inspects them in the moonlight, and there isn’t a speck of blood or dirt even in the deepest crevices of them. He smiles at the ceiling in the dark.

Everyone is happy that he’s okay. They all hug him gently, careful and mindful of the stitches holding him together, of the IV in his arm, of the way his head aches like he’s hungover. All their voices are low and their hands gentle, and Robin and Nancy bring clothes for him to wear that aren’t cold hospital gowns. Dustin cries, and Eddie thinks that for a few minutes while Eddie holds him, he’s turned back into the little boy he was before he was shoved into the whole mess of the Upside Down.

They all update him on everything that’s happened since he’s been out. Max is okay, with healing arms and glasses almost thicker than the bottoms of Coke bottles. Erica and Lucas are okay. Dustin’s leg is healing, but he’ll have to use a cane. Mike is back from Lenora, with a girl named Eleven and Will and Jonathan, and some guy named Argyle.

He sees all their smiles.

Except Steve.

Steve doesn’t smile. Not once.

He stands in the corner and watches everyone talking, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall like a broody movie villain, and a few times when Eddie looks in his direction, he’s already looking back. Frowning. Or he’s looking at the ground like he’s bored, like he doesn’t want to be here at all.

And every time it makes Eddie’s chest tighten, so he squares his shoulders and widens his smile and looks away, back to whoever is talking. He’s actually struggling to follow along as their voices overlap, and he thinks maybe he’s just tired, because when Robin speaks, he looks toward Eleven for a moment, and he accidentally calls Dustin Lucas’s name.

They all say goodbye when they leave. The kids all hug him gently again, along with Robin and Nancy. Argyle and Jonathan smile.

Steve doesn’t say goodbye.

Eddie tries not to let it get under his skin, but it gnaws away at him like teeth as he stares up at the ceiling. How easily Steve left, like he doesn’t even know Eddie. How he was almost glaring at Eddie the whole time. How he didn’t even seem slightly happy that Eddie was alive.

He only sees Steve a few times while he’s in the hospital, because Steve drives the kids to visit. If it were up to Steve, Eddie doesn’t think he’d even show up. It’s still under Eddie’s skin.

Days go by.

The government pulls some strings. Eddie’s murder charges are dropped. He’s released from the hospital but only with a security guard that’s armed with a gun just in case. Eddie goes home to Wayne.

Home is different now. An apartment in town, small and a little run-down, but it has two bedrooms and more hot water than the trailer. And there aren’t any bloodstains on the ceiling.

Eddie helps Wayne put up his mugs around the kitchen, and his hats in the living room. Wayne chides him gently. You’re gonna pull your stitches, Eds, I got it. But Eddie’s tired of doing nothing, of laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to think up new campaign ideas only to be distracted wondering what’s going on with Steve. So he keeps helping. And he cleans, and decorates his own room with posters and photos and banners that someone packed while he was in his coma.

He has to go back to the hospital several times, accompanied by Wayne. To remove the stitches on his cheek, then the stitches on his arms and legs, then the stitches on his sides and chest. Eddie hates getting stitches removed.

He’s covered in scars, all pink and disfigured, tender and sensitive. The scars on his sides are almost indented, his skin no longer smooth and soft. The one on his cheek is jagged. He avoids looking in mirrors. He wears long sleeve shirts, even though the weather is getting warmer.

He doesn’t go back to school even though he has the option to. He doesn’t want to be looked at. And he doesn’t really care anymore. There are bigger things to worry about than fucking Ms O’Donnell’s class. (Like what’s going on with Steve.)

Wayne goes back to work. The kids go back to school. The town seems to get used to Eddie. He still gets glares from people, and he looks back. He doesn’t hide the scar on his face or the one around his neck. They leave him alone.

The living room of the apartment becomes their new D&D place. Steve drives the kids over and picks them up. He doesn’t come upstairs. None of the kids say anything about. And this thing between Steve and Eddie becomes a quiet, unspoken thing that no one even glances at. It’s not the unspoken thing Eddie had hoped for when he opened his eyes in the hospital, blinded by the sun on the white walls and another chance at life. It’s the opposite of what he’d hoped for.

A month goes by.

Mike and Eleven break up, and that weird tension that was always present around them disappears. (Eddie always thought Mike talked about Will more than he talked about El at school anyway.) Nancy and Jonathan break up too. The day after, they both look happier than Eddie’s seen them before.

Eddie has some parts of his life back. He goes over to Gareth’s for band practice, and he decides he prefers how his guitar looks in this dimension, how it shines in the sun. He also decides that life is better when he’s not in high school. He’s going to try to get a job this summer, at a car shop or something. Wherever will hire him.

It’s been three weeks since he and Steve have seen each other. Or, he supposes, since he’s seen Steve. Steve didn’t look at him. It was like Eddie wasn’t there. It made him feel gross in a way he’s never felt, like his skin didn’t fit right, like it was bunched up and twisted, and he wanted to rip it off and set it on fire. And scream. Because he was mad.

Because even if Steve doesn’t feel the same way about him, Eddie thought they were friends. Or at least friendly. Eddie almost died, and Steve hasn’t said a single word to him.

So yeah. Eddie is mad.

But he’s pissed when he sees Steve at the grocery store, and their eyes meet across the stand of fruit they’re both at, and Steve just… looks down. Picks up an apple. Squeezes it.

And walks away.

Eddie is pissed.

More pissed than he’s ever been in his life. His blood feels like it’s boiling in his veins, like he’s being burned alive, and he can’t breathe, and he puts his basket down and leaves the store. (Usually he’d take the time to pay, or put the few items in the basket back. But he thinks that if he tries to do either, he’ll lose his mind.)

He goes to the parking lot. Sits in the driver seat of his van for a few minutes, staring at the gray sky as his hands shake and his knee bounces against the steering wheel, trying to figure out what exactly was in Steve’s eyes when he looked at him. They were awfully blank, but he looked… anxious. His eyes were a little too wide, his jaw a little too firm.

The sky darkens as Eddie stares at it.

He’s still pissed. He’s still shaking.

His keys rattle as he turns the van on, and his breath trembles as he drives, the windshield wipers on as it starts to rain. And then he’s at the Harrington mansion, and he wants to drive off a cliff, because what the fuck is he doing here?

He turns off the van and stares at the house. At all the windows. The downstairs lights are on. Eddie wonders if Steve is scared of the dark too.

It’s almost pouring when Eddie gets to the front doorstep and rings the doorbell before he knocks five times, hard. The door swings open a few moments later, and Steve is beautiful even Eddie’s angry at him.

His brows are furrowed in confusion, but his face relaxes back into that horrible blankness when he realises it’s Eddie.

Eddie stares at him. Steve stares back.

For a while. In silence, except the pouring rain. Eddie’s eyes look back and forth between Steve’s, who holds the door so tightly Eddie thinks he’s going to slam it shut.

And Eddie wants to hear him talk.

And Eddie is stubborn. He’s had great practice being stubborn. So he doesn’t speak, or move, or even breathe too hard even though his hands are still trembling, until Steve finally exhales and steps back.

“Get out of the rain.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Eddie exclaims, and he knows he’s being bitchy, but he doesn’t care. He kicks his shoes off, nudging them into a corner as Steve shuts the door heavily and steps into the kitchen that’s bigger than Eddie’s living room.

“What the fuck?” Eddie bursts as he follows him, watching him lean casually against a counter and cross his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a red sweater that looks criminally good on him, but Eddie doesn’t let it distract him.

“What the fuck,” Steve repeats dryly.

“You wanna fuckin’ tell me why you’ve barely fucking looked at me in the past goddamn month?”

Eddie has a swearing problem. It was the cause of a lot of his detention visits in high school, because he can’t help it. When he gets frustrated or annoyed or angry, his language gets colourful. Usually he regrets the words as he’s saying them, sometimes because he knows he’s gonna wind up in Peterson’s room after the bell rings with a pink slip in hand, and sometimes because the person he’s talking to doesn’t really deserve to be talked to like that. Because he’s not mad or frustrated with them, they just happen to be in the line of fire.

But not Steve.

Steve is the fucking target.

Eddie is already breathing hard as Steve looks away, his tongue sliding over his teeth in his closed mouth, seething.

“Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes snap up him, dark and gleaming like a predator’s. His voice is rough when he speaks.

“Because I’m pissed at you.”

“Well, Christ,” Eddie says loudly. “What a development.” His stomach aches, like he’s sick at the thought of Steve being mad at him. “You wanna tell me why?”

Steve is quiet for a moment before he stands up straight off the counter, uncrossing his arms, staring so hard at Eddie that his nose might start bleeding.

“I told you,” he says evenly, pointing at Eddie with two loose fingers, “not to be a hero.”

“Harrington—“

“And you nodded,” Steve interrupts, his pointing fingers stabbing the air between them. “You agreed, and I believed you.” His voice is loud, but shaking, Eddie wants to cry. He wants to burn his skin. “So I left you with my kid and I came back to find you fucking bleeding out in his arms.”

“What, so you’re mad that I almost died?”

“I’m mad that you went back!” And Eddie wants to die, because Steve is yelling now, but it’s still better than the silence he’s gotten. “I’m mad that you didn’t fucking run!”

Eddie’s eyes are burning, and his lips are pursed in a frown, and Steve’s hand falls.

“Why didn’t you run?” he asks brokenly, and Eddie realises the predatory gleam in his eyes is just tears.

“I ran from Chrissy,” Eddie says as strong to as he can. “I wasn’t gonna run again.”

“Anybody would have run from that, Eddie,” Steve yells. He leans forward in emphasis, and he looks like he’s going to cry. “You weren’t a coward, you were human. You didn’t have to fucking— make up for it.”

Eddie stares, blinking tears back, pursing his lips when his chin quivers.

“I’m pissed at you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter again. He’s breathing hard. His hands are shaking too. “Because you lied to me.”

He takes a deep, unsteady breath.

“And because—“ He chokes, swallowing. “Because you didn’t think that obviously Dustin was gonna follow you back. And I don’t— Jesus, Eddie, I don’t care if you don’t give a shit about your life, it’s not— not fucking fair.” His voice breaks on the last word, and Eddie’s chest feels like it’s been ripped open.

“The fuck’s that mean,” he says quietly. His whole body hurts. He thinks maybe Steve’s hands could make it feel better, but what are the chances Steve is going to touch him gently right now?

“I know you knew what was gonna happen, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice even, lethal.

Eddie’s stomach twists, and his breath catches in his throat, because he didn’t think he’d have to talk about this. He didn’t think anyone knew.

Steve stares at him, his eyes fucking piercing into Eddie, like he’s trying to see his bones.

“And I don’t care if you didn’t care,” Steve says firmly, his eyes shining brightly, his lip quivering. “It’s not— It’s not fair.”

The air feels tight, almost smoke-filled, like there’s a fire they’re both ignoring.

“Your life,” Steve says slowly, loudly, his eyes trained on Eddie like he’s worried he’s going to run, “is not yours to just throw away.”

“So, what, it’s yours?” Eddie snaps like he’s offended.

“Yes,” Steve yells roughly.

And the smoke clears.

Eddie’s eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking, and Steve’s eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking too. He’s breathing hard, his brows furrowed, and his lip quivers as he stammers silently.

“It’s mine,” he says finally, his voice breaking. “And Dustin’s. And Lucas’s, and Mike’s and Wayne’s, and everyone else on this goddamn planet that cares about you.”

And Eddie’s chest feels like it’s hallowing out. Like Steve is carving his flesh and bone away with a knife. His eyes watch a tear fall from Steve’s eye to the floor, landing on the tile.

“What about you?” Eddie asks, still angry.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Steve snaps, his face hard as he almost glares at Eddie, his eyes still glistening. Eddie glares back, his brows furrowed, and he inhales slowly. The room is silent except the rain pounding on the roof, on the glass windows, except his and Steve’s stuttered breathing.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, Steve,” Eddie says coldly.

Steve looks like Eddie’s slapped him.

“The kids told me about how you threw yourself at a raging psychopath,” Eddie says.

“That was—“

“And how in the same night you threw yourself in front of a pack of demodogs with nothing but a baseball bat.”

“That—“

“Nancy and Jonathan told me about how Nancy forced you leave at gunpoint,” Eddie says, his voice louder, moving closer without even noticing. His voice is shaking. “And you still went back.”

Steve stares. His eyes are wide, and he looks angrier than Eddie’s ever seen him, and even though there’s a pit of fear in Eddie’s stomach, he persists.

“And we all know about how you stayed behind to be interrogated, and tortured and damn near killed by those Russians.” Eddie’s almost yelling now, tears sparking his own eye as he gestures to Steve in anger, in outrage, in pain and love and everything else that’s swirling in his carved out chest like a hurricane.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie screams, finally breaking. His throat hurts. “You think those people don’t care about you?” he yells, gesturing aimlessly toward the door. “You think we don’t love you?”

He’s panting, almost numb with adrenaline and rage. His vision is blurry, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of the anger or if he’s crying. He ignores it.

“You have no right to lecture me on this when you and I both know you would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.”

And then Steve’s hand is grasping the front of Eddie’s shirt, and the breath is knocked from Eddie’s lungs as his back slams into the wall so hard he thinks it might be dented. He gasps for breath, and Steve’s face is too close to his, and this close he can see specks of green in his eyes, and he can see every tear that’s clinging to his eyelashes. And even when he’s radiating anger, he’s the most beautiful man Eddie’s ever seen.

“You gonna hit me, Stevie?” Eddie says even though he still can’t really breathe. Steve doesn’t say anything. His fist is gripping Eddie’s shirt so tightly it might rip, his knuckles pressing into Eddie’s chest so hard it hurts.

Eddie’s never been good at knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

“You don’t get to be angry at me,” he says quietly, almost breathing the words. “Not when we’re exactly the same.”

Steve’s knuckles press even harder.

His lip is trembling, and Eddie’s eyes flick across his face, at his glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks, and the moles spotting his skin like stars, and he kisses him.

He pulls away just as quickly as he leaned in, his body flooding with heat as he realises what he’s just done, but Steve’s face doesn’t change. Still angry, seething, and the world is on fire, crushed under tidal waves and hurricanes and God’s wrath, and it’s Eddie’s fault. His eyes sting like there are chemicals in them, and he breathes out a soft shit before he tries to shove past Steve to escape before he can die.

Of course he’d survive this long, survive being beaten by a drunk before his bones were done growing, survive being the target of a witch hunt by townspeople with guns, survive being eaten alive by demonic bats, only to die untouched. Because he kissed a boy without thinking.

But Steve’s hand tightens on Eddie’s shirt, and he pushes Eddie back against the wall roughly. Eddie whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, flinching, and a few seconds pass before something presses to his forehead. He opens his eyes hesitantly.

Steve’s eyes are closed, his forehead on Eddie’s, and his hand releases the fabric of his shirt, his palm pressing, fingers spreading over Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s eyes burn, and he inhales sharply, trying desperately not to cry. His hands are hanging by his sides, trembling.

Steve pulls away after a moment, and all the anger is gone from his face. His eyes are almost closed, still glassy, and he looks exhausted, like he’s going to fall apart. But his hand is still steady on Eddie, pressed firmly.

“Don’t think I’m not still mad at you,” Steve says so quietly the words almost get lost in the sound of the rain.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Softly, chastely, just barely catching his lower lip. Eddie can’t tell if his heart is even beating anymore, and his hands raise hesitantly as Steve does it again, slowly slowly slowly moving to touch Steve’s waist. His sweater is soft.

Steve’s other hand lifts and holds Eddie’s cheek so gently he can barely feel it on the mangled, sensitive skin of the ragged scar. And then their breaths are mixing as Steve presses his open mouth Eddie’s, and his tongue is slipping across Eddie’s lip and into his mouth. Eddie leans against the wall, his hands tightening on Steve’s waist, as his knees weaken.

The kiss doesn’t last long, because Steve is crying. Gasping for breath, holding Eddie tighter. Squeezing his eyes shut. Falling against Eddie.

Eddie slides his hands to Steve’s back, holding him close. His throat tightens, and he closes his eyes, suppressing a sob as he feels Steve’s shoulders shake.

“Don’t be mad,” Eddie says weakly, his voice wobbling, too high, too thin. Steve lifts his head, looking at him desperately.

“I can’t not be mad at you, Eddie,” he says. His voice is the same as Eddie’s. There are tears on his cheeks. Eddie wipes them away. “You lied to me,” he chokes. “You lied to me.” His hand curls into a fist that hits Eddie’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says softly, moving a hand to hold Steve’s fist against himself. Steve falls against him, his face in Eddie’s neck, and Eddie wraps his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist, pulling him away from the wall, so tight that Eddie gasps, and he sobs loudly, trembling.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, crying, and he slides down the wall, holding Steve to himself tightly, and Steve is wailing into Eddie’s neck, sobbing and shaking and gripping Eddie so hard he’ll probably bruise. Eddie’s back is to the wall, his arms around Steve’s neck, his face buried in his hair. He’s getting it wet with his tears, but it doesn’t really matter. His own hair is still wet from the rain.

Eddie is still apologising. He doesn’t even think Steve can understand him, because his own voice is so broken and tear soaked, and because Steve is sobbing like a child.

I lost you.

“No, you didn’t,” Eddie manages to say, shifting so his mouth is by Steve’s ear. “I’m right here, I’m okay.”

Steve cries into Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s skin is wet with his tears. The collar of his shirt is probably soaked. But he doesn’t care.

Steve’s sobbing turns into that awful hiccuping gasping sort of crying, and Eddie pulls away enough to kiss his forehead and hold his face.

“‘M right here,” he murmurs. There are tears in his own face that ignores.

Steve is leaning against him, his legs sprawled on the kitchen floor, and Eddie tugs him closer, wiping away his tears.

But Steve doesn’t ignore Eddie’s tears. He messily wipes them away before he clutches to Eddie’s face, his other hand grasping Eddie’s forearm tightly. His chest is rising and falling with every quick, gasping breath, and Eddie swallows his own tears as he looks at him, at his rosy, tear-streaked cheeks and running nose and chapped lips, and he wonders how long Steve’s been holding this all back.

“I’m here, Stevie.”

Steve looks at him. His eyes are glassy and exhausted again. Eddie wants him to go to sleep. Preferably in Eddie’s arms.

“Thirteen days, Eddie,” Steve says weakly. His voice rasps, dry and overused, and it sends a knife through Eddie’s heart.

“I know,” he breathes. “‘M sorry, Stevie.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his breathing finally slows, reaching to find Eddie’s wrist, and Eddie feels lightheaded when Steve’s fingers press into his pulse.

It’s not until Steve’s breathing is slow that Eddie finally detaches them, helps Steve up, and gets him a glass of water. After Steve gulps it all down, Eddie stretches the sleeve of his shirt over his fingers and steps closer to Steve, touching chin and using his sleeve to wipe his skin, under his nose and eyes and over his cheeks.

Steve’s eyes close, and he sways with the movements until Eddie’s hand pulls at his shoulder, and he falls against Eddie, exhaling heavily.

“‘M sorry,” Steve says softly after a few moments. His hands slide over Eddie’s waist.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Eddie murmurs, because the last thing he wants is Steve feeling like he can’t cry in front of Eddie.

“No, I was mean,” Steve says, almost whining, looking into Eddie’s eyes. He looks like he might start crying again. Eddie touches his cheek. “I was angry, I should have— I should have talked to you, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie breathes, his voice accompanied by the quiet rumble of thunder outside.

“No, it’s not,” Steve says weakly, his hands gripping Eddie’s shirt. “‘S not okay, Eddie.”

“Okay, fine,” Eddie says, sighing and brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek softly. “You were an asshole. I forgive you.”

Steve’s eyes close and he falls forward, his forehead pressing to the side of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie threads his fingers through Steve’s hair gently.

“God, I missed you,” he says softly. “How’d I miss you so much?”

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist tightly. Eddie brushes through his hair.

“Stay,” Steve says softly, his breath warm in Eddie’s neck. “Don’t want you to go.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. His body aches.

“I won’t go, Stevie.”

Carefully, hesitantly, he shifts and reaches down to Steve’s legs, tugging at his thighs until Steve exhales and nods, moving his arms to wrap around his neck. Eddie picks him up easily, smiling when Steve’s legs wrap around his hips, and Steve clings to him desperately as Eddie moves out of the kitchen, following the hallway until he finds the unreasonably large living room. He slowly lowers Steve to the sofa and then he lowers himself on top of Steve when Steve’s grip on him doesn’t relax.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes after a few moments. Eddie shifts to press a kiss to his neck.

“I know. Me too.” He pauses for a moment, then moves so his cheek rests on Steve’s chest. “I meant it, you know.”

“Meant what?”

Eddie hesitates, moving a hand to press to Steve’s chest in front of his face, feeling the soft knit of his sweater.

“We love you.”

Steve’s arms tighten, and Eddie feels his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

“You know we love you too, right?” Steve says softly. Lightning flashes outside, far away and soft. Eddie closed his eyes, pressing his hand to his chest.

“Kinda unbelievable,” he says quietly. Thunder rumbles.

“‘S true,” Steve says. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

Eddie presses his face into his chest, inhaling. He smells like laundry detergent and cologne, and like something that oddly familiar. Nostalgic. Eddie inhales again.

“Did you visit while I was under?” he asks quietly. Steve sighs.

“Could barely keep me away,” he say softly. “Worst thirteen days of my fucking life.” He takes a breath, sliding a hand to press over Eddie’s on his chest. He’s so warm. “Just held your hand ‘nd waited.”

Eddie laces their fingers, squeezing.

“Left to the bathroom in the hospital to clean your rings,” Steve says, his voice thin. Eddie opens his eyes. “The lights kept flickering, and I didn’t even care, I just… needed to clean them.”

Eddie lifts his head and looks down at him, his throat tight.

“That was you?”

Steve nods, his eyes shining as he looks up at him. His hair has fallen around his head like a halo. His cheeks are still rose, his eyelashes dark with tears like he’s wearing makeup.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of you… waking up with blood on your rings,” he says softly, one of his hands combing through Eddie’s curls that have fallen like curtains. “I don’t know. ‘S kinda dumb in the grand scheme of things.”

Eddie shakes his head, sniffling as his eyes burn.

“It’s not dumb, Stevie,” he says shakily. Steve’s fingers press to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Steve smiles softly, weakly, touching Eddie’s hair, and a tear falls from Eddie’s eye to Steve’s cheek, near his mouth. A soft laugh escapes Steve, and Eddie apologises, smiling, watching Steve blur. He starts to shift to wipe the tear away from Steve’s skin, but Steve beats him to it, wiping the tear with the tip of his middle finger before he brings the finger to his own lips, licking the tear off. Eddie scoffs.

“And they call me the freak.”

Steve smiles. His eyes are shining too.

“Kiss me,” he breathes.

Eddie leans down and kisses him. He can taste the salt of his own tear in his mouth, and he tilts his head to kiss him deeper, groaning softly. Steve’s hands spread over his back, holding him so their bodies press together completely, before they slide to hold his head, his fingers curling into his hair.

The sound of rain outside fades like it’s being muffled as Eddie kisses him, as he listens to the quiet, weak noises escaping Steve’s throat, to the slick slide of their tongues, to their heavy breathing. He presses his fingers into Steve’s neck, feeling his blood rushing, his heart beating beneath his skin. Steve whimpers, and Eddie pulls away to look at him, at his screwed-shut eyes, his furrowed brows.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers.

Steve sniffs, opening his glistening eyes, and he pulls Eddie into a hug desperately, his face in Eddie’s neck as Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, closing his eyes.

“I was so scared,” Steve chokes, holding him tightly. “I thought you were gone.”

“No, I’m right here,” Eddie whispers, tugging his hair, kissing his jaw. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

It slips out, but Eddie doesn’t try to take it back. He doesn’t regret it. Especially not when Steve takes a shuddering breath and turns his head enough to kiss Eddie’s temple.

Eddie falls asleep with his face in Steve’s neck, breathing on his skin as he lays in top of him, their legs tangled together. Steve’s hand is holding Eddie’s throat in a way that makes his knees feel weak, his fingertips pressed into his pulse, and Eddie is holding his sweater in loose fists.

“Oh, fucking finally.”

They startle awake simultaneously, gasping and trying to sit up, and Steve fingers tighten around Eddie’s throat before he quickly lets go. Eddie shifts, trying untangle from him, squinting in the bright morning sunlight, his body aching.

“Fucking Christ, Robin, why?” Steve exclaims, his voice rough with sleep, rubbing his face as Eddie leans back, groaning loudly.

“We all thought we’d have to live in your silent treatment for the rest of our lives,” she says dramatically, and Eddie watches her, still squinting, as she moves around the sofa to collapse onto his and Steve’s legs. “So you guys talked?”

“More like screamed and cried,” Steve says, shifting, pulling his legs away to lean against the armrest of the sofa. She sits cross-legged, looking at them. “But yeah.”

Eddie shifts to lean against him, closing his eyes against the light. He’s never been a morning person, and still isn’t today. Especially when he was sleeping so peacefully, on Steve’s warm body. Eddie probably has the knit of his sweater pressed into his cheek like a print.

“Sounds like quite a night.”

Steve’s hand presses into Eddie’s hair as he hums softly, and Eddie exhales, relaxing against him. He could fall asleep again.

“You had quite a night too, didn’t you?” Steve asks, his voice almost suspicious, and Eddie smiles against him, moving closer. He loves how Steve as Robin can read each other’s minds like this. How they can take one glance at each other and just know whatever there is to know. Steve pulls at Eddie’s legs so he’s sitting across his lap, and Eddie tucks his face back into his neck.

“Uh. I mean—”

“Oh, shit,” Steve says. Eddie can hear his smile in his voice. “V?”

“Uhm.”

Eddie lifts his head, brows furrowed in confusion, but Nancy appears in the doorway, carrying a tote bag like a baby. Her eyes find Eddie and Steve cuddled up on the sofa, and she exhales roughly.

“Oh, fucking finally.”

Steve looks sharply at Robin, eyes wide, and her face flushes with colour.

Oh.

“Finally what, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, ignoring Robin and Steve.

“You guys were becoming insufferable. You talked?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God.” She steps up behind the sofa to look at Robin, whose gaze softens when it lands on her. “You gonna help?”

“Help with what?” Steve questions.

“My mom’s using the kitchen, so we’re making cookies here.”

Steve makes a face.

“Why do you always use my kitchen?”

“Because it’s nice,” Nancy says. “Duh. Robbie, come in.”

“Robbie?” Steve whispers as Nancy leaves, and Robin shoots him a look, scrambling to follow Nancy to the kitchen.

“So,” Steve says when she’s gone. Eddie presses his face into his neck.

“‘S too fuckin’ early.”

Steve laughs softly, running a hand down Eddie’s leg, squeezing his thigh gently. Eddie kisses his neck softly. There’s a clatter in the kitchen, and Robin laughs.

“Hey,” Steve says after a moment, rubbing his leg.

“Mm.” He lifts his head when Steve doesn’t say anything, and he shifts to look at him. “What?” he asks softly.

Steve gazes at him for a moment, holding his leg with one hand as the other touches his cheek and then tucks his hair behind his ear. Eddie moves to straddle his hips, holding his shoulders and looking at him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday,” Steve says quietly.

“I yelled at you too.”

Steve scoffs, playing with the ends of Eddie’s hair.

“I yelled at you first.”

Eddie pauses.

“Not… really.”

Steve just laughs lightly, closing his eyes and falling forward so his forehead presses to Eddie’s chest, just under his collarbone.

“Can you let me apologise, please?”

“Ugh, fine.”

Steve lifts his head and presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s chin. No one’s ever kissed Eddie there.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday,” Steve says softly. “And I’m sorry for being mean.”

Eddie touches his cheek, almost petting it.

“I won’t yell at you again,” Steve says softly, firmly. “Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Mm.”

“What if I’m being an asshole?”

“Then I will very calmly tell you that you’re being an asshole.”

Eddie giggles softly, hiding his face in Steve’s neck, and Steve wraps his arms around him tightly. Eddie sighs, settling into his arms.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

“Will you— Steve.” Steve laughs softly, tightening his arms. “Come on, man.”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. Like… as soon as I walked into your house. That wasn’t fair.”

He lifts his head and touches their foreheads together, holding Steve’s face in his hands.

“I won’t yell at you ever again.”

“Not even when I’m being an asshole?”

“No,” Eddie says, laughing softly. “I’ll very calmly tell you you’re being an asshole.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers.

Steve tugs at Eddie’s waist, lifting his chin up wordlessly, and Eddie smiles at him before he presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve murmurs when they part, his lips brushing Eddie’s.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, holding his cheeks so they squish a little bit. “King Steve falling for the freak. What would your loyal subjects think?”

“Who gives a shit?” Steve breathes, and something shifts inside Eddie.

“Fuck, I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

Steve smiles brightly, his eyes squeezing shut, and Eddie is free-falling off a cliff. He leans in and kisses him.

“How do you take coffee?” Steve asks quietly when they part, breathless.

Eddie kisses him again, sucking on his lower lip, smiling.

“Milk and sugar,” he murmurs against his mouth before kissing him again, holding his cheeks. Steve smiles against his mouth, his hands spreading across his waist before he slides one to the small of his back.

“Let me make you coffee,” Steve says.

Eddie groans softly, pressing his face into Steve’s neck again. He likes it here.

“Wanna go to bed.”

“Come on,” Steve says, laughing quietly, squeezing Eddie’s waist. “The girls are making cookies, maybe we can steal some dough.”

“Isn’t that unhealthy?” Eddie asks dryly.

“Kids eat cookie dough.”

“You’re saying I’m a kid?”

“‘M saying neither of us got to be kids for very long,” Steve says softly, and oh. Eddie kisses his forehead because he can’t kiss his mind. “Let’s go steal some cookie dough.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, but he doesn’t move, instead leaning down to kiss him softly, tenderly.

There’s a dash of flour on the top of Robin’s nose when they finally go into the kitchen. She and Steve exchange a look as Steve heads over to find the coffee.

“Why are you making cookies?” Eddie asks, hopping up onto the kitchen island to watch as Robin cracks an egg into the bowl Nancy’s mixing. “Is there a special occasion?”

“The Party’s coming over tonight for a movie night,” Nancy says. Steve turns around.

“What? Why?”

“Because your living room’s huge.”

“You guys keep making plans in my house without even telling me,” Steve mumbles, but Nancy points the whisk at him.

“Our house.”

He makes a face at her.

“Steve, is it cool if I smoke weed in our kitchen?” Eddie asks, and Steve rolls his eyes, but he smiles softly.

“Only if you share.”

“Cool.”

He comes back with two joints and sticks one in Robin’s mouth as she’s cracking another egg, both of them holding still as he lights it for her.

“Thanks, Edster.”

“Ew.”

He sits on the island again, taking a slow drag as he watches Steve make the coffee, find the milk in the fridge and the sugar in a cabinet, watching the way he steps over the tile like he’s about to fall into a dance. He brings a mug over to Eddie when it’s finished and sets it down next to him.

“‘S hot.”

“You know what else is hot?” Eddie says without thinking, and Steve snorts, moving to stand between Eddie’s legs so the insides of his thighs press to his waist.

“What?” Steve asks, looking up at him, smiling easily, sliding his hands over Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie’s cheeks flush even though he’s the one technically flirting.

“…Nothing.”

“Mhmm.” Steve’s eyes are shining gleefully, like he knows exactly how he’s affecting Eddie. He jerks his chin up at the joint. “Gimme a hit.” But he doesn’t move his hands to take it.

So Eddie takes a long drag, taking Steve’s chin in his fingers, and then he leans down, brushing Steve’s lip with his thumb so Steve opens his mouth. His eyes flutter shut as Eddie blows the smoke into his mouth, and Eddie smiles.

He hears Robin giggle as he’s gazing at Steve, watching the smoke drift out of his mouth slowly, and he looks past Steve to find her and Nancy standing together, trying to muffle their laughter in each other’s shoulders.

“Are you guys watching us?” Eddie asks, and Steve blinks his eyes open. Eddie runs a hand through his hair mindlessly.

“We can’t not,” Nancy says as Robin giggles again, taking a drag. “You just… command the space.”

Eddie sticks his tongue out at her. She sticks her tongue out at him. Steve pulls Eddie into a kiss. Robin squeals. Steve flips her off without looking.

Nancy lets them have some cookie dough, but only after Robin rants to them about the dangers of salmonella poisoning. Steve leans against the counter between Eddie legs and holds up the spoon for him while Eddie holds the joint down for him.

Nancy procures a polaroid camera as if by magic. She probably just had it in the tote bag. Eddie is paying a ton of attention to her at the moment. He into notices the camera when there’s a flash of light, and she lowers it to reveal a grin. The photo goes on the fridge.

The weed smell is gone by the time the kids there in the evening, all piled into Argyle’s van, very unsafely but they’re all grinning and giggling when they stumble out. They all let out similar groans when they see Eddie‘s arm around Steve.

Thank God.

Jesus, finally.

Did you finally talk?

Are you guys friends now?

That’s Eleven. Eddie likes Eleven.

“Something like that,” he says to her, and her face lights up.

“Alright, everyone go inside,” Steve says, ignoring them all. His cheeks are pink. “It’s gonna rain again.”

As they’re headed inside, Eddie comes up behind Erica and scoops her up, holding her upside down over his back as she screams and laughs, hitting him.

When Eddie turn around, swinging her, Steve is watching with a smile that’s different than any smile he’s ever seen on him. Happy, but something more than that.

Content.

The kids all pile up on the sofa before the movie starts, bickering and arguing about who gets to sit where, who gets which blanket. Erica tells Dustin to move his legs because he’s touching her, and he throws his legs across her lap to be obnoxious. Lucas ends up between Max and Eleven, his arms around both of them. Will sets a leg over Mike’s leg. Nancy and Robin take residence on the smaller sofa, sitting close together despite the space on it, and Jonathan and Argyle sit on the floor against the sofa. Robin plays with Argyle’s hair.

Eddie waits until Steve is done attending to everyone, passing out soda cans and napkins and cookies and chips, rustling their hair and bopping their faces affectionately just to be annoying. And then he corners him in the kitchen, quiet as the movie starts in the other room.

He pushes Steve against a counter, and they’re kissing before he can even say anything, his hands on Steve’s waist, Steve’s hands on his face, over the scar on his cheek. Eddie tilts his head, letting his lips part, squeezing his waist, the softness above his waistband. Steve exhales sharply when they part, smiling.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods. There’s something lingering on his face, in his eyes. “What is it?”

Steve hesitates, tucking Eddie’s hair behind his ears.

“I don’t…” He stops, biting his lip as he gazes at Eddie. The room is dim, softly lit up by the light from the hallway. “It feels like… like something’s missing.”

“What’s missing?” Eddie asks, tilting his head, his thumbs running back and forth.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers, his eyes trained on Eddie’s mouth almost absently, like he’s zoning out. “But it’s… it’s good that it’s gone. Like it was never supposed to be there, and then it was, and now it’s gone, and I…” He takes a slow breath, his chest rising and falling. “Feel like I can finally breathe.”

“Are you happy?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah.” Steve says it like he’s just realising it, blinking and looking into Eddie’s eyes. “I’m really happy.”

Eddie smiles, reaching up to touch his face.

“Are you?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie blinks, his smile falling. And he thinks.

Feels Steve’s warm hands on his face, their legs twined. Listens to the muffled movie in the living room, the rain outside. Knows that almost everyone he loves is under the same roof. Safe.

“Yeah.” He looks at Steve. “I’m happy.”

Steve’s finger presses under his chin.

“We’re the same,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, smiling. “We are.”

Steve closes the distance between them to kiss him again, his teeth catching his lip carefully, his hands spreading over Eddie’s neck and cheek, covering his scars like he’s keeping them safe.

When they pull away, Eddie tugs him into a hug.

They squeeze onto the sofa next to Robin and Nancy afterwards, and Steve is smiling the whole time, squished between Eddie and Robin. Robin sets a leg over his, and Eddie sees him reach down to squeeze her tight gently before he elbows her against Nancy. After a minute, Steve pulls at Eddie’s hand, and Eddie looks away from the television to look at him, about to ask if he’s okay.

But Steve wordlessly pulls at Eddie’s arm so he’s lifting it over his head, and Eddie sets his arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. Steve leans against Eddie’s chest, a hand set on his leg. He squeezes when Eddie starts to play with his hair, and Eddie feels him fall asleep after a minute, heavy against him, his shoulders rising and falling steadily with every breath.

He sighs, dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair as gently as he can, tilting his head to look at him, but he can’t see his face. So he just sighs again and presses a lingering kiss to the top of his head.

He looks up across the room, scanning over all the kids. Eleven is asleep against Lucas, an arm over his stomach, and Max is holding Lucas’s hand that’s by her shoulder, squeezing his fingers. Erica’s brows are furrowed in concentration as she watches the movie.

Will is looking back at him.

Or rather, Eddie realises after a moment when the television screen changes, brightening, he’s looking at Steve. At Steve sleeping against Eddie’s chest, holding his thigh, at Eddie’s fingers in his hair. Will is smiling, looking almost curiously, and his smile grows when his eyes meet Eddie’s.

Eddie jerks his chin up at him, gesturing vaguely, silently at Mike next to him, and Will looks away, at Mike. He seems to hesitate, looking back at the television, biting his lip, and then he finally lets his head fall to Mike’s shoulder. Mike smiles at the tv, and after a moment his head falls to rest on Will’s. Will’s eyes close.

Eddie sighs, shifting to settle into the sofa. Steve nuzzles into his chest, a soft noise escaping him, and Eddie runs his hand through his hair again, closing his eyes and listening to the rain.

[ramblingoak]

Idk of you do x reader requests but if you get the chance maybe do a copia helping reader calm down from a overwhelming/over stimulated/anxiety attack, type of breakdown? Thanks. :)

Hello my friend, here's a little something for you. I hope this helps and I hope you are doing well 💙💙

I Love You, I Like You

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader ~ Copia is there to help you when you need him the most

Warnings: mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and the aftermath, gender neutral reader, sfw, 700 words, not proofread forgive me

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

Copia understands what you're going through.

He knows what it’s like. The odd sensation like something is crawling under your skin, like something is gnawing away inside of you. He hates it just as much as you do. Hates not feeling in control. Hates that sometimes there’s nothing he can do about it but wait for it to pass.

Mostly he hates that you experience it too.

Copia watches out for the signs. For the days you are quiet and slow to get out of bed. Days where you are withdrawn and keep to yourself. Even his best horrible jokes don’t work on those days. His “Papa Jokes” as you like to call them. They are typically very stupid and usually very dirty, but they always get a laugh out of you. After you groan and roll your eyes of course.

On bad days though Copia doesn’t bother with his jokes, sometimes he doesn’t even bother speaking much at all. He’s been with you long enough to know exactly what you need when the panic and the anxiety becomes too much. When all you can do is sit in either your room or his with the lights off and a blanket wrapped around you.

He makes sure you know he’s there, that he’s ready to give you anything you need. Copia would sweep you off to a cabin in the middle of the woods if you asked him to. But most of the time all you ask of him is just for him to be nearby. His presence, the sound of his breathing, the smell of his cologne…just him being there helps you get through your attacks.

Your love for each other is strong, strong enough to handle days like this. No matter how often they happen. No matter how hard they get. Copia shuts out everything else when you need him. His ghouls helping to run interference from the outside world if necessary.

When the moment comes that you need his touch or his voice he’s there. He waits for you to whisper his name, hating how shaky and unsure you can sound. Like you’re worried he will have left. His arms are gentle as they pull you in, his voice soft as he whispers how much he loves you. Softer still when he eventually starts singing whatever song comes to mind.

Your body will go limp in his arms, exhausted from being on edge for so long. Your mind finally drifting away from the thoughts that had been racing around in your head. Thoughts that weren’t true, that you knew weren’t true but that you still couldn’t get to stop.

Those thoughts were replaced with Copia’s words now. With tales of what the ghouls had been up to, complaints about his brothers and all the ideas he had for his next album. He sings you a few bars of what he came up with, then a few of his older ones he knows you love.

It isn’t until he starts singing “Rats” that you feel like yourself again. By the end of it both of you are smiling so wide your cheeks ache. It’s here where he’ll pull you closer, where he likes to kiss you and remind you how much he loves you. How he’ll always be here for you whenever you need him.

The final step to getting you back on your feet is easy. You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for it. Copia has to take a moment to think of the best dirty joke he can and the best way to deliver it. He knows you’ll groan and try to shove him away. He knows you’ll whine and roll your eyes at how immature he is. But he also knows what you really mean when you do these things.

He knows that when you growl and call him a dirty old man you’re really saying something else…

“Thank you for being here, thank you for loving me.”

Copia’s response is always the same, it’s always whispered into your ear and it never fails to make you feel whole again…

“I love you, I like you. I will be here for you. Always.”

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

my masterlist of fic

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[amhrosina]

I Wanna Love Me The Way That You Love Me

(Frank Castle x f!Reader) - Hurt/Comfort

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Summary: Frank uses a mirror to remind insecure!reader how beautiful she is. (In a fluffy and a smutty way!)

Warnings: reader is not very kind to herself, fluffy frank, like FLUFFY frank!!!!, super soft!boy frank, the softest of franks ive ever written, some body descriptions but I tried to keep it super vague, (later on) whew chile smuttttt, fingering, frank makes you watch yourself come in a mirror (lmfao), frank is sort of a dom but in the loosest sense, frank just loves reader so much!!!!!)

A/N - Thank you to @wheredidiputmyfish for being an absolute doll of a beta reader!!! I have a couple more Frank fics otw (i cant help it, i love that stupid man) and a poly!fratt x reader one hopefully soon after that!

You huffed as you pulled the green blouse over your head, annoyed that yet another online purchase didn’t fit right on your body. Just this week alone, you’d already made two trips to the post office, and Frank was bound to ask questions if you went for a third time so soon.  

You couldn’t even remember why you’d started buying nicer clothes to begin with, except that Karen always looked nice and Frank had been in love with her at one point, so why wouldn’t the same concept apply to you? The only problem was that you couldn’t seem to find anything that fit you correctly, and the idea that Frank might grow bored with your everyday attire kept you up at night. And of course, Frank had never actually said anything about your clothing choice – this was just the overthinking part of your brain going into overdrive. 

You flopped onto the mattress, shoving your face into your palms and groaning. You couldn’t figure out exactly what Frank saw in you, and it was hard not to compare yourself to his late wife or Karen. They were both beautiful women – definitely Frank’s type – and that was not exactly how you’d describe yourself. The thought of it brought tears to your eyes again. You quickly blinked them away when you heard the front door shut. 

You joined Frank in the living room, where he was removing his boots. You threw the package you needed to return on the table by the door, and though you tried to do this casually, Frank noticed it and your expression immediately. 

“You sendin’ care packages to some other boyfriend or somethin’?” He teased, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You giggled. “No. It’s just another return.” 

“Not that I’m not supporting this new wardrobe thing,” he started, eyeing the package by the door, “but why are you returnin’ everything you buy?” 

You shrugged. “It just doesn’t fit right.”  

“I bet you look great.” 

“I don’t think so.” You shrugged again, avoiding his eyes as you stepped into the kitchen. 

“Sweetheart.” He followed you into the kitchen, though it was clear he was struggling to figure out how to broach the topic. “Is everything okay? You’re talkin’ down about yourself again.” 

Your smile faltered slightly. “I’m fine.”  

“Baby,” Frank wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your chest into his, “You’re not fine. You wanna know how I know that?” 

You remained silent, avoiding eye contact, but nodded. 

“Because you won’t look at me.” You lifted your chin and stared into his warm gaze out of spite. “And because I know you and I love you, I know that you start avoiding me when you feel bad because you think I’m going to miraculously start to hate you and leave.” 

You didn’t respond, instead gnawing on your cheek and curling into yourself. Frank’s hold around your waist remained steady, and as you tried to look away from his meaningful gaze, his hand gripped your chin and held it steady, too.  

“You’re beautiful, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “I love you no matter what you do or wear or say. You’re beautiful.”  

You tried to push away from Frank, suddenly aware that you hadn’t fixed your makeup or hair that morning. He was lying. He had to be lying, right? No one thought that about you, least of all Fra- 

“Don’t.” Frank was gentle in his coaxing, running his knuckle over your cheekbone in a soothing pattern while pressing his fingers into the small of your back. “Don’t do that to yourself. I love you. I’m not goin’ anywhere. You have to trust me.” 

You fiddled with your fingers, wringing them together in an uneasy gesture, unsure of what to say. He gently grasped them and pulled them into his chest, cradling them as he held your gaze.  

“Come with me. I wanna show you somethin’.” He murmured, tilting his head toward the bedroom.  

You followed close behind him, curiosity outshining your desire to crawl into bed and never get out. He led you to a stop in front of the full-length mirror, resting his hands on your shoulders behind you. A clear and decisive frown formed on your face. The last thing you wanted to do was look at yourself. 

“What do you see?” he asked, holding your gaze through the mirror. 

“What?” You furrowed your brow. 

“What do you see, sweetheart? Be honest.” he asked again, patting your shoulders encouragingly. 

“Well, um,” you breathed, starting at the top of your head and making your way down with your observations, “I see dull hair, bags under my eyes, and a nose that’s too big. My shoulders are broad, my hips are too wide, my skin looks lifeless, and I’m wondering why you ever gave me the time of day and why you stay with me when there are so many people out there that would look better standing next to you.” 

Frank stayed quiet throughout your assessment, expression turning grave as you brought up your deepest insecurities about yourself. He let you finish your observations before pressing a long kiss to your head. 

“Now ask me what I see.” he prompted. Confusion overcame your features again, but he silenced your doubts with an encouraging nod.  

“What do you see, Frankie?” You quietly asked, unsure if you really wanted to hear what he had to say. 

He brought his finger to your face, tracing each element as he pointed them out in the mirror. 

“I see a pair of beautiful eyes and a perfect nose. I see the most sensual lips I’ve ever felt pressed against my mouth. I see a beautiful, strong body that can handle anything thrown its way. Remember when you had to carry me from the living room to the bedroom after I passed out? That shit was impressive, sweetheart.” A soft smile rested on his face as he continued. He folded his arms around your middle and pulled your body against his. “I see hands that hold my entire heart in them, and a body that has all my love. You’re beautiful, baby, and I love you so much. Every piece of you.” 

You tried to blink away the tears that clouded your vision, but Frank’s speech combined with his gentle touch and open expression sent a wave of tears down your face. You curled into his hold, turning so you could bury your face in his chest. He cradled you against him while you cried, pressing soft kisses to your hair every few minutes until you were calm enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. 

He swiped his thumbs through the tears that had gathered under your eyes. “Are you okay?”  

You nodded, blinking up at him. “Thank you. I love you,” you murmured. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, which had always been his way of showing love. “Anytime, sweetheart. You hear me? Anytime.” 

- 

Bonus Scene: In which Frank comforts you in the bedroom later. 

“Frank, what are you doing?”  

Your tone was a mixture of confusion and curiosity, combined with the lazy haze that had taken over your body for the time being. Frank had jumped up from his relaxed position between your legs, where he’d licked up every bit of your desire after making you see stars, and had begun fiddling with the floor length mirror across the bedroom. 

“Hang on.” He called over his shoulder, tugging the heavy glass across the carpet. 

“Why are you moving the mirror?”  

“Wanna try somethin’.” 

He stepped back, looking between your slick, bare skin and the mirror with a smug expression. You were now face to face with your reflection, and as soon as you realized Frank's plan, a string of fire worked its way directly to your core.  

“Wanna show you how perfect you are.” He crawled on the bed behind you, settling himself before tugging your body back against his. Both sets of eyes, yours and Franks, were focused on you, and boy were you a sight to behold.  

Your limbs, still shaky from your first orgasm were splayed out, giving both you and Frank the perfect view of your glistening cunt, which was busy clenching around air as Frank worked his needy fingers down your skin. 

“Shit, baby. You look fuckin’ perfect like this.” He breathed. The proximity of his warmth to your ear sent a wave of goosebumps down your body, and you had to fight the urge to clench your legs together. “Look at how beautiful you are, sweet thing.” He murmured, holding his gaze on the treasure between your legs. 

You looked, fully looked, and felt heat crawling up your neck as his sensuous fingers swiped through your arousal. A low groan emanated from his throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from circling your clit. You watched as a moan left your mouth, your back slightly arching against Frank’s chest.  

“You see how perfect you are, sweet girl?” He cooed, circling your clit again. “Your pretty pussy drives me crazy.” 

His other hand began to rub your nipple in light circles, and if that weren’t enough to have you gasping for air, the touch of his lips to the spot below your ear was. You squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back against Frank’s shoulder. His fingers halted – no, everything halted – and the whine that came from his sudden stoppage wasn’t entirely a conscious decision of yours. 

“You stop looking, I stop moving, sweetheart. You got that? Keep your eyes open.” he asked, locking eyes with you in the mirror. His gaze held no room for negotiation, so you shyly nodded before returning your gaze to your body. His focus remained on your flushed face, panting as he worked you closer to another orgasm.  

You could see what he was talking about. For the first time in a long time, the girl that looked back in the mirror wasn’t someone you shied away from. She was beautiful, and confident, and sensual, and she looked good next to Frank.  

“You look stunning, baby.” He murmured. 

“I know.” You responded, briefly lifting your eyes to his before returning them to his fingers. His winning smile was priceless – wide and open and beautiful, and you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. 

Light twinkled in your eyes as he inched you closer and closer to your release, and as soon as you locked eyes with Frank again, you were a goner. 

Frank worked his fingers around your clit, coaxing out one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever experienced. It washed over you in waves of fire, and it was a struggle to keep your eyes open for it, but you were glad he had asked you to, because you looked glorious coming around his fingers. 

You panted, body gleaming with sweat. Your heartbeat finally slowed as you leaned against Frank for support. He ran soothing hands over your limbs, massaging feeling back into them and kissing every inch of skin that he could reach in the process. The silence as you returned to your body was long, but comfortable, and when you finally had full use of your limbs again, you pulled Frank’s arms around you.  

He kissed your hair, resting his cheek on your head. 

“Do you see what I see now?” he asked, glancing at you through the mirror. You nodded, carefully lifting your chin so you could look at him – the real him – to respond.  

“I love you.”  

He grinned, leaning down and planting a sloppy kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, sweet girl.”

-

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @callsign-mama @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @megmastersgf

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 1

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some swearing, mentions of wounds & medical stuff, dottore warning (?) he doesn’t exactly do anything but y’know- it’s dottore, sort of proofread

note ; i am so scared, i’ve never posted anything like this on tumblr or at all LMFAO this is my first fic ever and very self indulgent. ive already posted 5 chapters of this on ao3 but i was curious as to how the tumblr ajax kissers would react to it. im sorry if this sort of info tab isn’t very descriptive, im just basing it off what i’ve seen from the viewer’s perspective.

ALSO, for context- tetya= aunt and dyadya= uncle in russian!

constructive criticism is appreciated!

next part | masterlist

“hey, watch your step! snow’s gotten harder and slippier these days…”

“yes, sir!”

“yes, father!”

just as the warning rings out, it’s followed by the dry crunch of heavy boots against snow. it’s not the same soft sound as it was a month or so ago, rather it sounds almost as if the ice gnashes aggressively at the leather boots.

it gnaws at your ears painfully, though you’ve been sensitive to such sounds for as long as you could remember, yet you still flinch.

ajax notices right away. he always does.

“here,” he goes, the cloud of his warm breath visible. turning your head toward the boy, you see that he’s handing you his earmuffs.

a sheepish grin invades your lips as you wordlessly take him up on his offer. mind rid of the god awful crush of the snow, you come up with a brilliant idea.

“last one there’s a rotten catch!” you charge onwards with a laugh.

“ah, n-not again!”

ajax’s father only watches from behind as his son hurries to catch up, a defeated sigh leaves him. “these kids…”

said kids were already reaching the lake clearing at that point. the frozen water already has its own layer of fresh-fallen snow, making it seem like an entire new tundra- that is, until you and ajax brashly create footmarks and snow angels on the surface while his father is still yet to catch up. if he’d been closer you would’ve heard the old man’s grumbles about having to carry all the fishing gear.

thankfully, there were no rotten catches that day.

your best friend’s laughter and your very own echo in your head like bells in an empty chapel, uninvitedly. the entire memory is instead invited by the sight of a father on the street with his own children, he carries a bucket and fishing rods as the youngins run ahead excitedly. you conclude that you should’ve left for zapolyarny palace earlier today.

this morning cannot start off on a bad note, not when the doctor had meticulously scheduled an operation for this very day with your presence prerequisited.

you’re acutely aware of this.

you’re still acutely aware of this when you slam your work bag onto the desk with such force that even the fatui guard monitoring the palace hallway jumps.

and you’re still acutely aware of this when you almost bump into one of your boss’s segments on your way to the operation room, a most certain death that would be if you did bump into him. even as you break your stress fueled stride, the segment blocks the path forward.

“if i didn’t know any better, i would assume this is your first day on your first job. ever.”

you furrow your eyebrows confusedly while the segment coldly scrutinizes you top to bottom.

“even the lowliest of fatui recruits know that the first thing one should do after clocking in is get into the proper uniform.” he indicates with a snark in his tone.

ah- your lab coat.

“yes sir. my apologies.” with a haste in your step previously thought impossible to achieve without actually sprinting, you beeline straight to your office, which is conveniently on the other side of a very long hallway from the operation room. so long, in fact, that it gives enough time for a certain someone to slink into the office room without you even seeing it.

you don’t notice him even as you’re already inside the room. well, how could you with such tunnel vision, powered by your early-morning frustration and innate fear of disappointing the doctor. you’re practically out the door with lab coat in hand when he finally quips.

“uhm, doc?” the voice is shaky but still impossible to not recognize.

god dammit.

the tsaritsa was truly not on your side today. with a deep inhale, you do your best to keep a neutral expression as you turn around to face the head of red hair that haunts your dreams. or rather nightmares.

“how may i help you, lord tartaglia?” you still hated that title.

“well heh… this is the head nurse’s office, i believe you can help me by exerting the very function of this room?” the harbinger puts on a friendly front, acting like he can’t feel your burning glare. within it, you start to gauge at what’s brought him here, few surface-level scratches and even fewer cuts that are ever so slightly deeper present on him.

“i’m afraid i’m running late for an important appointment with the doctor, you’ll have to ask one of my subordinates.” you state matter-of-factly and start turning to leave again.

“w-wait, please!” he reaches out to stop you and the hand lands on your bicep, rather than your wrist which would’ve been a quicker latch. huh. “let me talk to him afterwards, he’ll understand. plus, i’m your boss as much as he is.”

“you’re quite literally not.”

“yeah, i’m not. still your boss though.”

childe is not of as high authority over you as the doctor is, afterall you’re one of the doctor’s assigned assistants, but the way he talks so casually and… playfully makes him seem even less bossy. but you don’t allow yourself anymore time to dwell on it, instead you roll your eyes and give in. your boss almost giddily sits on the examination bed.

the sterilized silk gloves slide snugly onto your palms as you look your patient up and down.

“how did you even manage to get yourself roughed up so early in the morning?”

“it’s never too early in the morning for a spar! though- hah… even i didn’t expect to take this many free hits.”

“who were you sparring?”

“eh, some junior lieutenants at the northwest wing. there were some new recruits there too so i figured i’d set an example for ‘em.”

northwest wing..? you visibly pause at the revelation.“that’s… on the other side of zapolyarny palace.”

“so?”

“so there’s nurses there too.”

childe himself seems to pause then- you were catching onto him. he realizes he must think about his next actions as carefully as humanly possible.

“ahah… a-are there?”

good one, ajax.

you look down at the alcohol-soaked cotton ball sitting snugly between your tweezers and then up to a scratch right above childe’s eyebrow- seems like the perfect time to treat your patient. the sting comes before the harbinger can even react and much to his dismay, you keep the cotton ball on his forehead even as attempts to lean away from it.

“childe tartaglia,” you start, voice menacing and low. “did you orchestrate a sparring session with low-rank officers and get yourself injured on purpose to come see me?”

“a-ah ouch!” childe hisses. “surely you w-wouldn’t commit medical malpractice over something as trivial as this?” clearly he forgets who you work for, or pretends to at least.

“start talking.”

“okay, okay! yes, i did all that…” the red head sulks with a defeated sigh. pleased by the confession, you move away with your alcohol cotton ball of doom and give him space.

you watch the tsaritsa’s weapon of war crumple into himself, looking off into a meaningless corner of the room.

“i… i’m being stationed to liyue tomorrow.” his voice is entirely different from what it was when this entire ordeal began- quiet, hesitant.

“and?” is your response before you can even think about how douchey it sounds. it’s already too late when you see childe deflate even more and feel like you just kicked a puppy.

“and i wanted to come and give you the news.”

really? that’s all he wanted from this?

“then why go through all this effort of sparring newbies at practically the ass crack of dawn and lose? why not just come here and tell me at once?”

he scoffs bitterly. “like you’d talk to me under normal circumstances.”

the regret you were feeling from your cruel response from earlier quickly bleeds out into incredulousness.

“you haven’t talked to me under normal circumstances since we were fourteen.” you stab back and childe bites his tongue, he won’t retaliate this time. the rest of the appointment is spent in the deadliest of silences as you finish tending to his “injuries”. neither of you ever look up to face the other.

you pack up quickly as to haul ass from the office room as soon as possible. but not before you mutter stoically- “have fun in liyue.”

and childe is left to sit pathetically on the bed and contemplate his astronomical failure.

—

what a wretched week.

the days seem to take a thousand years each to end, the laboratory feels stuffier, the people less tolerable and you swear the pen in your hand feels heavier than a lead ingot.

“are you done sulking?”

oh yeah, there’s also the ruthless fatui harbinger you work under and the equally insulting bajillion copies of him. you know bajillion is a gross overestimation but you also gave up keeping track of how many segments the doctor has a long time ago, they’re bossy all the same.

“not sulking, sir, just… thinking.”

“thinking about the medical records you’re supposed to be overseeing surely?” he taunts and you can only scoff non-committedly.

said medical records were mere reports on several of the doctor’s past experiments and operations, arguably not worth such a commitment of your time or worth a hackling from your boss. either way the words and paragraphs had merged into blurred lines and incomprehensible messes in your eyes about ten minutes ago, you were only pretending to be doing something at this point.

the irresistible force of your boredom drives your gaze to anywhere but the papers in front of you, eventually settling onto a corkboard hung up on a farther wall of the doctor’s laboratory. tired retinas struggle to focus on the blueprints that are stuck onto the corkboard but they seem to have rough sketchings of… body parts? they’re definitely not human, no, instead the drawings indicate they’re robotical. on another blueprint is an unfinished rendering of the full robot body. the shape language is unconventionally stylized, to a point where they almost resemble traditional inazuman patterns or even… the patterns on scaramouches robes-

“l-lord dottore!! i have an u-urgent matter sent by lord pierro himself.”

huh?

“out with it. quick.” the segment doesn’t even bother to face the stammering officer that had bursted through the door right then.

“u-uhm… some of our liyue informants have reported t-that rex lapis suddenly p-perished during the rite of descension,”

huh?

“rex lapis, dying? well,” he drawls amusedly. “that would certainly be a sight. but how exactly does this development concern me? is the banker not available?”

“w-well y-yes… lord pierro specifically requested for your word on the matter a-and perhaps see if one of your s-subordinates could… be on-site?”

dottore’s segment lets out an exasperated sigh while a gloved hand goes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “unfortunately it doesn’t surprise me that the collective surplus amount of agents we have stationed in liyue harbor proves to be utterly incompetent to the point where the jester himself would come to me for help.”

a feeling of dread settles in your chest as you try to digest the insane information you’ve been given-

rex lapis, the oldest of the seven archons of teyvat, is dead.

pierro, the head of the fatui harbingers, is requesting dottore to send one of his subordinates to investigate the scene.

that’s you, you’re dottore’s subordinate.

which means you’ll be sent to investigate an archon’s death. in liyue.

that’s where he is.

your head feels like it’ll explode any second now. the segment, ever so brilliantly clever like his prime version, seems to have the same idea as you and beams a sharp-toothed sadistic grin.

“why my assistant here does seem to be available, wouldn’t you say?” he turns a serpentine stare over to you.

“err… i don’t think i could leave my post here, sir, i am the head nurse after all-“

“nonsense, i doubt the bumbling idiots of this palace will find themselves into anything more troublesome than a papercut while you’re gone.”

oh the irony of hearing that after your… situation the other day. you huff defeatedly, standing up to start packing for your impromptu trip. the mysterious blueprints in the laboratory long forgotten.

—

morepesok hasn’t changed a bit since you left.

which, as much as you love your hometown, isn’t saying much- morepesok is as uneventful as it gets. in such a small seaside snezhnayan village, the only points of interest are the painfully traditional values of fishing and family.

the visit to your parents’ house is brief but comforting, some teary goodbyes and heartfelt words about how pleased and proud they are of what you’ve accomplished for yourself- achieving such a high position in the fatui ranks by merely helping people. you don’t even consider telling them about the doctor.

but what makes you feel worse is the visit to ajax’s family home. it’s like the house has been frozen in time, the place where you spent years of your childhood is intact and unchanged- except for some newer family pictures, of course.

teucer, tonia and anthon are the ones to greet you first, then ajax’s parents come along. huh… ajax. you hadn’t even noticed the switch your brain does whenever you’re back home. here, he’s ajax but in zapolyarny palace, he’s childe or tartaglia. but there’s no time to dig yourself a deeper hole in that topic because you’re presently being pampered like a very own daughter of the house by his parents.

“my dear, look at you! you look so grown and mature… have you been eating well?” his mother walks up to cup your cheeks with the most genuine parental love. she, like the rest of the environment, looks exactly as you remember her, with a few newer white strands betwixt her bright orange curls. well, remember is a strong word.

“tetya, it’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other, i’m all the same.” you laugh and she reciprocates.

“yes yes, i know… and- oh! as a matter of fact, we saw ajax just this week, said he was being transferred to a northland bank all the way in liyue!”

and when you thought you could not feel shittier about this.

“it is a shame to have our ajax so far from home so suddenly but at least we still have you, dearest!” she grins, pinching your cheek with more vigor than you’ve seen apparent in fatui sergeants.

“hey!” the three younger siblings call out in unison.

“yeah, a-about that, tetya…” you start hesitantly. “i’m… also being transferred to liyue. there have been some unexpected developments and i’ll just be on field to check up on things.”

ajax’s mother huffs incredulously. “by the tsaritsa’s name! they must hate mothers over at that palace!” she shakes her head with disappointment. “speaking of which, have you gone to see your parents yet?” you only nod. “good good… well anyhow, are you in a hurry, dear? i could make you some hot chocolate and then you’re free to be on your way.”

how could you ever deny your tetya’s hot chocolate?

the rest of your stay in the household is spent chatting with the family and playing games with the younger kids, as well as drinking a cup of hot chocolate so delicious you almost cry. the afternoon is nearing its end when you’re walking out the door and teucer is bawling his eyes out at your departure, or maybe he’s just tuckered out.

“have a safe trip, kiddo.” ajax’s father pats you on the shoulder firmly.

“thanks, dyadya, i will.”

“oh! and take care of ajax, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head.” this time it’s tonia who pipes up and the rest of the family nods in agreement.

“bye bye, everyone!” you’re already at the house’s front fence, waving back as fiercely as you can.

the only thing you don’t notice is the knowing look that is shared between tonia and her mother when she mentions ajax.

[anxiously-going]

Consider with me for a moment an AU:

l. Leonard McCoy was one of several doctors pulled from bases outside San Fran to go on the Tarsus IV rescue mission.

l. (He kicks in Pike’s door demanding what the heck he thinks he’s doing recommending him for a mission like this, he’s fresh out of the Academy, he’s supposed to be a Earth based doctor, that was the agreement. Pike reminds him that he was top of his Psych class and he did exceptionally well working with trauma patients during his residency and that’s exactly the sort of doctors they need for this mission.)

l. So off he goes thinking he’s completely unprepared for any of this, and when they touch down he finds out that no one was prepared for any of this.

l. He’s just about ready to report to the CMO heading up the operation when he sees couple of red shirts wrestling with scrawny kid that couldn’t possibly be more than maybe fifteen and any thought of chain of command is gone.

l. He marches over and demands for the kid to be let go, there’s an argument and complaints of being bite, but as far as Leonard is concerned, he deserved to get bit, and finally they let the kid go.

l. Len catches him before he can bolt again, but he doesn’t try to restrain him, he just keeps him blocked off till he can get kid calmed down and talking.

l. His name is Tom.

l. “Can you tell me why you keep tryin’a take off, Tom?”

l. “JT’s still out there!”

l. That’s all Len needs to here before he’s running after this kid, hoping it’s not to late to get to Tom’s friend.

l. They get to a cave and Tom asks him to wait outside. Len doesn’t like it, but he agrees, the last thing he wants to do is make this kid more nervous. He’s trying to build up some trust with him and that goes both ways.

l. He can hear two quiet voices arguing and after a minute another kid comes out.

l. He’s maybe a year older than Tom and if Tom was scrawny then this kid was flat out emaciated.

l. “I’m JT,” he says with a faux confidence that might have been believable if he wasn’t trembling so badly. “Tom says your with Starfleet and that you’re hear to take us back to earth.”

l. “That’s right. I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy, I serve in a base in Atlanta, Georgia back on earth.” Len keeps a professional tone, trying to let JT lead the conversation in hopes of getting him to come back to base.

l. “Do you have any identification?”

l. And Len obliges him.

l. JT stares at is, gnawing anxiously on his lower lip, conflict clear on his face.

l. And Len takes a risk. “Kid,” he says gently, “I just wanna help you and your friend get home.”

l. “What about Kodos?”

l. “I heard they found a body. I don’t know if they’ve confirmed the identity, but there was a body where he was last known to be,” Len answers honestly, still not sure if the kid trusts him, but hoping he will.

l. “Wait here.” JT goes back in the cave and comes out with eight other children, Tom among them, none of them older than JT, and the youngest maybe four, he carries on his hip.

l. Len guides them back to camp, JT keeps a watchful eye the whole time.

l. Everyone is immediately on them when they get, a few of the kids go running to adults they recognize, and when someone rushes at JT and the kid pulls the younger boy closer to him with a warning snarl Len jumps in, standing between the officer and JT.

l. Len diffuses yet another confrontation and begins wondering when he became a negotiator. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s a doctor for crying out loud!

l. Fast forward a bit and literally no one can keep a handle on JT, except for Len who seems to be the only person who understands that this is a scared kid and not a feral cat.

[notquitedeadpod]

The more angsty backstory Neige gets the more im attached to him kcmdmdms

No but i was thinking what are your thoughts on Neige being given nicknames in different languages (like how Casper calls him Zima ect.)? Bc ive been thinking about possible Neige nicknames in my native language (latvian!) And its been quite fun!

I even have some ideas:

- Ziema (means winter and is already very close to Zima so not really that unique)

- Sniegs (means snow and sounds pretty nice, can be turned into a pet name "sniedziņš" lol)

- Ledus (means ice and sounds very cold and brutal, doesnt exactly fit the character but still good)

- Sals (it means like frost or frostbite im pretty sure, sounds nice tho)

So yeah from now on i will be reffering to Neige as sniedziņš sometimes and no one can stop me.

(Also i love love love how you bring other languages into the podcast i speak literally no french but its nice to see it used so casually and just aagghhh its amazing <3. I love the representation of languages XD)

I am glad you are having fun gnawing on this prehistoric boy. And yeah!! So, without getting too much into canon, anything wintery or cold themed is an appropriate thing to call Neige, based on the conventions used to name him elsewhere. It's all based on the 'cold' reputation of his blood.

I LOVE the idea of nicknaming him something to do with frostbite, bc he DOES bite, it's a very important thing about him. He's a lover and a biter. No bark, all bite, and so on and so forth.

Anyway YES you are absolutely right in the way you're nicknaming him!!

I really love playing with languages. English is my first language, Welsh is my second, and I also speak a handful of French and Russian. I also know a little grab-bag of words in Italian and Spanish, but not much, and a few words here and there of Czech, but like. VERY scant. Like I know stray bits of vocab, and that is all.

Languages are so fun, I love how they work and relate to each other, I love how when you start learning a new language it's like 'oh the whole way I think about using words is not the default, there are other structures, other systems, different ways to communicate about these objects and this world'. I love how languages are alive and fluid and they borrow and share and steal and give and change and exchange. I love how it's all about connecting with other people and even when the language barrier is a wall, eventually you will find a way to speak with each other, because that's what people do.

Language <3 It's amazing. In my Top 10 Things Humans Did of All Time.

--- Eira xxx

[domokunrainbowkinz]

probably my last manhwa post of the year eheheh.....

titles discussed:

don't mess with the pooch! (18+)

dear zero (18+)

the count's secret maid

night of muheun (18+)

when the third wheel strikes back

regas

don't mess with the pooch! (18+): I'm always biased towards asshole MC's who will not hesitate to throw hands...these hands are rated E for Everyone...the ML is also the exact flavour of unhinged that I like to read about. the tone is very lighthearted and I do feel there were certain scenes that felt too unserious in tone. I ended up binging the novel it's based on and I feel the manhwa doesn't do a great job in conveying the tone or character thoughts in certain scenes (like that scene where chiyoung turns into his true form for the first time, in the novel they make it very clear its a terrifying experience for heeseong but in the manhwa it has like a slightly comedic tone which idk it was weird dude). overall the novel was a pretty fun read, I classify this as "junk food bl" bc it is very "turn off your brain and just go with the Vibes" kinda read. I also do love bitches with separation anxiety heheheh...I will be reading the manhwa tho bc I like the art and they made chiyoung very pretty...I am not immune to prettily drawn men

dear zero (18+): I s2g ive said something about this one but I guess not...anyways it's by bwat so I already knew going in I would like it. it was also my intro to guideverse, which I had No Idea existed before this. the story seems like it's being told as a confession tape by the MC in the future, and I am so curious to see how the story progresses!!! the story starts with the main pairing's first meeting, and then immediately after it jumps to a point into the future where they make it very clear Something happened, bc the ML wiped his own memories and is in cryo sleep, while the MC had to retire early bc of a permanent leg injury. the ML also has the power to manipulate other ppl's memories, so we can't even fully trust what the MC remembers about the ML. they're just starting to remember bits and pieces of what actually happened in recent chapters and I'm so looking forward to see how this all unfolds. I love me some stories told in retrograde that deal with unreliable memories ohohohoho

the count's secret maid: this one is promising so far, only 17 chapters out for the manhwa and I'm already gnawing at the walls for the next update. It's based off a completed novel (which I am planning to read lol) and all the reviews say its a banger so I have a good feeling about this one. even just based on the manhwa chapters, I already love the way the character interactions are written. both the FL and ML are traumatized and have their own issues, and it seems like the story is about how they help each other heal and move on. the FL is a poor peasant who had been abused since birth and called ugly/hideous, she's extremely sensitive about her face to the point where she refuses to look anyone in the eye bc she's learned that everyone recoils in disgust when they look at her. the ML is a count who went blind after a poisoning, and refuses to leave his room after several assassination attempts bc he's become afraid and fearful of everything due to the attempts and also the fact he cannot see. their interactions are so fun to read and there are also some beautiful scenes that had me going "oh they're Cooking cooking". anyways I really really hope this one won't let me down like some other romance manhwa that have started out promising only to peter out once the main pairing gets established 💀

night of muheun (18+): I ended up dropping this one bc I didn't like the ML. he comes off as very wishy-washy and there wasn't really anything compelling enough in the story to draw me in. the MC has a childhood crush on the ML and like. idk man. I don't like the way the ML treats the MC...he's keeping a lot of secrets and treats him like a bit like a clueless kid, I just don't see a compelling romance between the 2. maybe I will pick this back up in the future since it is my favourite genre (modern-day supernatural / ghost hunting romance) but like. I got more and better things to read lol

when the third wheel strikes back: I read s1 of this manhwa like months ago and idk why I never talked about it...anyways I haven't read s2 bc I heard from novel readers that it skips over some events and isn't a super great adaptation, so I'm planning to read the novel instead lol. despite that though I really enjoyed s1, it had a lot of funny moments and also many moments that made me go 🤨🏳️‍🌈 like I could not believe this isn't a romance novel. my one gripe is that I thought there would be more emphasis on like the worldbuilding, the power system, and maybe we'd see Jesse train his skills as a priest but every single time they say they're training they just end up drinking tea and eating biscuits 😭 GURL I WANNA SEE YOU DO MAGIC....I know it's not the emphasis or main focus of the story (the emphasis is on The Polycule which I loooooove don't get me wrong) but I personally like a good balance between these elements. I might just end up picking up the manhwa again bc atp I got so many webnovels on my tbr that are at least 150+ chapters long, my brain capacity is gonna be at max. anyways for the orv-ers who liked the yoohankim scenes during the kaizenix arc. I would read this bc it's giving fantasy yhk LOL (except jesse/yeseo is the polar opposite of kdj he knows Nothing about the novel he got transmigrated into except that he's gonna die, and thru some wacky shenanigans he somehow ends up in a polycule with the 2 ppl he was supposed to avoid. c'est la vie 😌)

regas: I also read this a while back and even read a good chunk of the novel it's based on, but I just never continued it 🧍‍♀️ I think it presents a pretty interesting concept, basically a fantasy world where the rulers have dragon blood and bc it causes them to eventually go mad, they require a tamer, called a "regas", to help soothe them and retain their sanity. except that as time went on, the surrounding court becomes corrupted and eventually chips away at the king's power by feeding them poison and training up regas that are pretty to look at, but would not be functionally uself / able to handle an essentially humanoid dragon. I actually thought the politics were quite interesting, and the rship between the MC and ML is quite sweet but sad. the MC starts off as like a big burly guy who was properly trained as a regas who can handle wild beasts, and he was brought in to tame the young prince who was born with particularly strong blood, so he's been chained up and abused bc no one can handle him. some ppl are really iffy on the age difference (bc the way the first part is depicted, it almost seems like a parent / older guardian raising their ward) but I didn't mind it?? something about the devotion and affection of a powerful being directed at the 1 person who showed them love and kindness makes me go AWOOGA!!!! the most heartbreaking thing about this story is the MC ends up dying and reincarnating into the body of a frail and pretty twink 😭 THEY TWINKIFIED MY BEAR....I'm still so sad about that. I think I may pick this manhwa back up in the future, tbh I think I stopped bc I felt a bit burned out by reading too much manhwa in a short amount of time lol

[kaoharu]

ciel & also 2you for the character ask game please please pl clawing @ your pant leg

my pants 😧 answer utc cause it got long !!

^ also this gets funnier and funnier the more i look at it hana𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 and hato𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 what a whimsical world . . .

first impression

ciel - hes really cool and voiced by kenn :] how neat that i know him :]

yuu - natsuki hanae PEAK i really like his character design i think. yeag :] <- thought he'd be my favorite character

impression now

ciel - my illness. i think we know what i think abt this guy

yuu - natsuki hanae PEAK affirmed. hes litwrally so silly. ill gnaw on him for breakfast. just another guy who loves his kanojo

favorite moment

ciel - t.the. bursts into tears. sorry i just really like the scene at the end of his last drama where he like. makes his kano close her eyes and then puts the ring on her finger. what fucking ever . sorry again <- why do i remember this with perfect clarity am i sick.do you think im dying

yuu - RAH. its been a While since ive listened / read his dramas but i Swear they have a scene where theyre trying to build furniture togther. is this true

idea for a story

my empty brain. im sorry for disappointing everyone on this question specifically

unpopular opinion

ciel - i dont think i have one really ? i choose to believe everything i think abt him is accepted by the masses and true

yuu - hrmmmmm ???? i dont know whats unpopular but i do think his wired outfit is one of my favorite for him 👍 <- me tryijg to give an opinion but unsure of whats a Popular opinion

favorite relationship

answering this one together bc i like that ciel and yuu are buddies :] i wish there were more tls for the group dramas so id feel like i know more abt the vocalists relationships w each other but whatever as they say

favorite headcanon

ciel - specially handcrafted for yvelie in her sick and twisted mind but. i like to believe hes good at cooking . id elaborate but im beginning to feel ill /silly

yuu - not really sure if this counts as a headcanon cause its really just something i wonder abt but do you think that if his girlfriend asked he would sing a song from his brief idol days . like just for her . . . hmmm

[aceofwhump]

hey hope u r doing good! im continuing with yet another year of absolutely loving your content (fr one of the only reasons i ever go on tumblr anymore is when i go ’oh i want to see some new whump, i should check out if aceofwhump has posted anything’ cause you always rec soooo good stuff)!

anyways, ive recently started hyperfixating on the sandman - and i was wondering if you have any whumpy and/or angsty fic recs for dream of the endless? thank u !!!

Hi there! I'm doing well thanks for asking! I hope your new year is going well!

Oh my god I love the Sandman. Yes I totally have some fic recs for you. I went through my own hyperfixation on angsty Dream fics so I got you.

These are my favorites:

Can I Sleep in Your Brain Tonight, Stranger? by equus8 Summary: Dream of the Endless gets more than he bargained for in the Burgess' basement. Hob Gadling is just trying to live his comfortable domestic life. Neither of them are prepared for what comes after the glass shatters.

I will find you in your dreams by Salmaka Summary: A story where Dream, confused and weak from his time in isolation doesn't make it back to the Dreaming but ends up in Hob's house instead.

Bones Don't Rust by not_whelmed_yet Summary: But he wasn’t in the Dreaming here. He was pinned to the incremental march of seconds upon seconds upon seconds that made up minutes and days and years. He was stranded in a form severed from the Dreaming. Like soil run through a sieve, the damned circle had held back the greater part of himself. He ached for it, for a form where he could simply choose not to feel the cold sinking into his bones, or the swimming haziness of air used up, or the hunger sweetly gnawing on the core of him. -- The same capture & rescue fic everyone has written, but playing off two ideas: - I wanted to see Dream’s physical recovery take long enough that he could begin his mental/emotional recovery before heading back to the Dreaming - There’s a lot of ways to hurt an anthropomorphic entity without taking them out of their snowglobe

which is worse, life without death or sleep without dreams? by galaxy_of_pi Summary: It had been thirty three years since he was abandoned. It had been a hundred and thirty three years. It had been a lifetime, and it had been an instant. But Hob was waiting, and would always be waiting, because his Stranger was worth it. AKA the heist to break Dream out of his snowglobe prison

More often than not. by TrainWreakBeck Summary: “Is that why you missed our meeting then? Some fucker had you in a cage?” There’s a slight growl in Hobs voice as he has to speak his friend's fate aloud, he expects him to again be amused by Hobs anger but he simply looks away towards the window with no clear expression. “…perhaps.” There’s no real intonation in his tone and Hob feels a brief stab of anxiety over what that could mean. In which Dream and Hob have a conversation which quickly leads them to decide that meeting once every hundred years isn’t quite enough for them anymore.

Regis Sanguinem by AllOfTheChaos Summary: Alexander stands up on shaking feet. “I can’t do this anymore.” He takes a few steps back and his eyes shift towards Dream. “I’m sorry.” He whispers before turning around and heading up the stairs, one of the guards quickly follows after him, a hand on young man’s back to steady him. “Alex! Alex, get back here right now!” Roderick hollers back. He turns to the Endless and growls. “You’re never getting out of here.” Before following after his son. *** Roderick Burgess doesn't meet a fatal end and after his son leaves him, things take a dark turn. In his desperate attempt to take power from his prisoner, Roderick Burgess resorts to twisted ways to force the Endless to give him what he desired: Immortality. Dream never thought humans capable of such cruelty and yet here he was now scared and in pain, hoping for salvation.

Better to love whether you win or lose or die by WitchyBee Summary: The life and times of one Robert Gadling. -- Excerpt: Hob ought to take the hint; he knows he should. A crystal-clear rejection of his friendship. Message received. But Hob Gadling didn’t survive plague and war, weather years of hardships and heartbreak and Thatcher-era Britain, without a profound sense of stubbornness about him.

To Learn to Breathe Again by ironlin Summary: Upon returning back to the Dreaming, Dream finds himself struggling. Thankfully, Lucienne is there to help.

Step by Step by Hopeful_Foolx Summary: After all that happened, that the Lord of Dreams gets sick is a surprise ... to nobody but himself. Three chapter with three (or more) people that are there for him.

Stubborn, Prideful, Dear by two_hundred_percent_trashSummary: First, Lucienne was Dream’s raven. Then, she became his librarian. Through it all, she was always by his side. It was always the two of them, together. ~*~ A queerplatonic interpretation/relationship study of Morpheus and Lucienne’s relationship.

Baby Brother by Anonymous Summary: Death has known for years why Dream had fallen silent and where he was being held, but she's been unable to act upon her knowledge until he'd been locked up for over thirty years. When she finally has the time to save him, she is horrified to see what they've been doing to her baby brother all these years.

I just wanna sing until I die by creativefuckerzspring Summary: First, He turns up 130 or so years later. Then, he turns up 6 years later at his doorstep, shivering and drenched like a wet cat. Hob is utterly confused why the lonely Not Friend of his is breaking patterns so severely.

For Want of Caution by mayanpaw Summary: Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too… intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily similar to his friend.

Looking For A Dream by Picture_Yourself Summary: A prequel to my fic I'm Morpheus, Please Dance With Me It's 1989, and Hob Gadling is waiting for his friend to show up. But unfortunately, Dream is still trapped in the Burgess estate with no way to escape. Now Hob needs to find out what happened to his friend and help him the best he can. On his adventures he meets a… colorful collection of ordinary and fantastical characters. Discontinued until further notice :( Series Part 3 of More Than Friends

And I'll kneel down, wait for now by Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish Summary: As the night comes, Hob waits. The person that arrives is not his usual companion. But they certainly direct him to his wayward friend.

Darker, Still by CeruleanHeart Summary: When Dream doesn't show up for their appointment in 1989, Hob decides to devote a part of his immortality to looking for his mysterious friend. He is dedicated not to wait and hope for another century for the slim chance of seeing him again. Even if he has to bribe, lie and steal, use every trick in the book he's learned in the past 600 years, he will find him. After over a century, Dream has almost given up on the hope of ever escaping his prison when help finally shows up in the form of someone least expected, compelling him to re-evaluate the nature of his interest in an old acquaintance.

slow burn by arahir Summary: Hob learns where his friend has been, and even Dream of the Endless might, on rare occasion, need a hand.

A shift in the sand by purplegardenshark Summary: Alex Burgess makes better decisions, and a friend. The story shifts accordingly

Shall We Dream (of a Brighter Future)? by Merianon Summary: In which: Alexander Burgess is a little more curious and open-minded as a child; Jessamy the Raven takes a risk; Dream of the Endless just wants out of the snow globe; Paul McGuire thinks Alex should have done this years ago. Now featuring: Hob Gadling, who is very happy that his "not"-friend might be a little more than that; Jed Walker, who has made a new friend; and Rose Walker, who only really cares that she has her little brother back. Oh, and Calliope likes to gossip with Alex and the others.

Losing control by Random_writer (SB_95) Summary: When everything seemed too much for him to manage, Dream seeks refuge in the house of his only friend. The problem is that the situation is not so simple, and now his family decides that they want to help him solve his problems, even without him asking for help. However, Dream only wants help from one person, and is not a Endless.

Dream of Death by Gueniver Summary: What if Jessamy had managed to escape from Alex's gun and could inform the Endless of Dream's Capture? What if Death could save Dream only after a few years of capture? The tools are still lost, but he has his sibling's help.

[revoltinggirl-urethra]

basically the thing to understand about me is i wake up at 11 am every morning and i have to decide if im going to eat the slabs of raw meat in my fridge.

i havent done it yet!! obviously, lol. but i go to get some eggs for breakfast and i see them there. the weak fridge light coats them in a glistening glow that should be unflattering (i really should change the bulb) but instead i am entranced. theyre piled up on top of each other sort of haphazardly, a thin, wide pale plate the only thing standing between them and the defilement of the foodstuffs below. i think theyre steaks? im not really sure. im not an expert you know, though i do spend a LOT of time researching and reading about the topic. i guess im something of an appreciator; an enthused observer. my vision unfocuses a little as i get lost in this familiar sight. the proud red color of the thick muscle swirls with the white of the marbling and it reminds me of van gogh, although a bit messier. as if he'd been up to his usual business and then splashed his paints across the thin, wide pale canvas in a serendipitous and terrible mistake. i become acutely aware of my skull's presence in my head. the way my face hangs off it like a coat on a hook. then i notice the eggs in my peripherals and remember what i am here for. i crack three of them into a bowl, add a little milk, salt, pepper, onion powder and garlic powder, beat the eggs, and scramble them over medium heat. theyre ok, not the best I've done.

when i tell people about this usually theyre a little confused. they ask me why id even want to eat the slabs of raw meat in my fridge. "you dont need to do something as drastic as that, cant you just grill them?" is the response i get most. the thing is, i love cooked meat! i eat it alll the time, its so delicious. i love all the ways you can prepare it, too, and you better bet ive tried most of them. however theres a certain je ne sai quoi about the idea of meat untouched by flame. nobody seems to get it. it makes me feel really lonely sometimes and like im going crazy.

lately ive been turning to online communities for a lot of my socialization. it turns out there are actually quite a few people out there who also think about this sort of stuff! theyre all very kind and intelligent as well, just total delights to speak with. i stay up late talking to them and laughing and feeling connected with them in ways ive never felt before. they make me feel as if maybe im not a monster.

some of them have eaten the meat in their fridges. they post pictures of themselves with grins and blood plastered on their faces. the cloying envy that fills my throat and threatens to suffocate me is one of the strange new connections between us because i know they've felt it too.

honestly most of these feelings are new, period. i havent always been so fixated on this. i used to not give that plate a second thought. of course, ive always been a bit of a carnivore, like i said before i do love and have always loved cooked meats. but this is a new level. its scary. intense. i mean also think of the risks! you can get hurt from doing this shit. i am very aware of all the ways that it can hurt you in fact. ive spent hours upon hours poring over everything anyone has ever had to say about the meat in their fridges and embroidered a complete list of consequences onto my consciousness. its always best to be safe.

i barely remember what its like to be normal anymore. no matter what im doing or where i am the knowledge that there is a plate of luscious animal product just waiting for me gnaws at the base of my brain stem. i open the door to my fridge. the tree of knowledge of good and evil is rooted in my vegetable drawer. i grab three eggs, i crack them into a bowl. milk, garlic, onion, some seasoned salt this time, because i am a person who likes to keep things fresh and new and exciting.

i lay in my bed and thoughts clump up in my brain matter. everything in the grand cosmos and also within the most secretive corners of my heart comes together and holds council over whether i should let these thoughts eat into my synapses. there's a delicious temptation in the erosion of my nervous system. there's a phrase on the tip of my tongue and i won't let it go. the aforementioned clumped concepts that weigh on my frontal cortex start bleeding raw sensory data. red and white swirl like a painting and my teeth rip into tendon and bone and i tear and i rip and there is a carnal beauty in the way blood pours from my mouth and down the front of my body and coats my skin in a slick crimson. this is no van gogh, now it is francisco goya, and i am greedily gulping down mouthfuls of flesh as if i've never tasted anything before in my entire life. and i am laying in my bed. and i go to sleep. and at 11 am i wake up in the morning and face whether or not i'm going to eat the slabs of meat in my fridge

[chososcamgirl]

HEYYY SIGMA ALPHA IYAAA GMMM HRUUUU ‼️🔥🤗 DAILLYYY CHECK INNN TIMEEE YK ITT RISE AND GRINDDD 🐺🐺

IM SERIOUSLY LACKING IN MY ASKS RECENTLY SO IM SORRY ABOUT THAT POOPIE PLS DONT BITE ME 😖😰

IM SO GLAD WORK IS GOOD BUT TRY AND GET MORE REST ‼️🔥 U CAN DO IT I BELIEVE IN U ALPHA 🤞🐺

IM GONNA RETURN THE CHARGER TODAY (and hopefully buy some things 😈😈) BUT GIRLLL I DO NOTTT WANT TO PAY THAT FEE URNENRNR KINDA WISH I WENT BACK AND RETURNED IT BUT IT WAS RLLY LATE AND WOULD HAVE BEEN DANGEROUS AND A GIRL NEEDS TO GET HER PRIORITIES STRAIGHT YKYK⁉️

OKKK THOUGHTS ON LAST CHAPTER 😈🐺🔥

nadnndbMDNDNEISNSNDNE DNENENEKE FUCK DUXK FIXKKKK I KNEWWWW IT WAS GONNA BE MEGUMI THANK YOU QUEEN FOR NOT GIVING IN TO SUKUNA BECAUSE GODDDDD 😭😭🔥🔥 BUT OMFGG??? “‘YOU SURE YOU DONT WANT TO STAY?’” OH MY GODD I AM SATTT UGHH THE PET NAMES, PERSONALITY SWITCH, EVERYTHING OMFGGG I WOULD HAVE CLUNGGGG ONTO THAT FUCKING MAN OMG YHE CHOKEHOLD THAG THIS CHAPYER HAD ON MEEE UGHHHEHHEHEHESK

IM SUCHHHH A SLUT FOR CLINGY MEN PLEASEEE LIKE OMFG JUST FUCK ME ALR HWBEBEBSKENNEND TWEAKING RN CUS THATS LITERALLY SO 🤗😍🔥😚🤤 I NEED SOMEONE LIKE THAT SOO BAD KEND GNAWING AT MY ENCLOSURE AND DROOLING RN OMG THE WAY I WOULD FORGET ALL OF HIS RED FLAGS LIKE I GUESS YN IS STRONGER THAN ME AFTER ALLLLLL WNNENEN AND THE FACT MEGUMI WAS WAITING FOR THAT TEXT OMGG ITS A NEED NOT A WANT 😍😍 ME AND WHO??? LIKEE WHENS IT MY TURN

the ai anon… I AM OUTTTT TO GET U HOW DARE U HO.. 👿👿 but iya.. ur writing is so fire you got your first allegation.. THATS HOW U KNOWW U MADE IT WHEN PEOPLE START ACCUSING U OF SHIT ‼️ guessing ai anon said that out of jealousy bc they can’t cook like you can iya but still.. ai anon i am OUT to get u 😡😡 the new chapter was SO FULLING KMFG IM FILLEDDD (in more than one way)

THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US ONCE AGAINNN IGNORE AI ANON THEY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEYRE TALKING ABOUTT UR SO FYA 🔥🔥

toge running in on yn… omfg the way I RECOILED. Like I would just start digging my grave ON THE SPOT bc you KNOW I would never be caught sleeping with the ops (unless toge was the op but he would never be one 🥰😍🤗 [please let me hit im so desperate] “‘…but you owe me.’ There was a glint in his eyes, hinting at the mischief he always seemed to conjure.” OH OKAY 😍😍 WHAT WOULD THE FAVOR BE⁉️⁉️ 🤤🤤🔥

Maki going straight to yuta after the fight… OKAY GIRL GET UR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT 😭😭 how is this man still a side hoe/fwb I’m FUMING for him LMAO someone get them tg already ‼️

Sjap toge ily please marry me 🙏🙏 i can provide a good sense of humor, cunt, and lipgloss please give me a chance 🤤🤤🤗🤗🥰

CANT WAIT FOR NEXT CHAPTERRR DONT FEEL PRESSURED TO RUSH GIRL THE EDGING KEEPS US UP 🤗😍‼️

Sigh.. guess who’s ovulating.. on their own.. on a weekend.. ALONE… cramping… 💔 (hint: it’s me) UGHH I HATEREE BLEEDING MY PUSSY OUTT ESPPP WHEN I GET JT ON MY SHEETS. I WOKE UP TO A MURDER SCENE. ON MY WHITE SHEETS. WHITE. SHEETS. I’ll never recover from this 💔 BUTTTT I means I’ll be period free for the next month!! And that includes HALLOWEEN WEEKENDDDDD SENNENDNEN 🔥‼️ im doing matching costumes w my friends but we don’t know what yet 😭

I HAVE MY AMBASSADOR MEETING TMRWWW GANG WISH MY LUCK ‼️🤗

LYCHEE⁉️⁉️ OMG I LOVE LYCHEE.. THE OLIVE THEORY.. WERE SOULMATES 😍😍

MY HOT TAKE… I HATE DR.PEPPER.. IVE TRIED SOOO HARD TO LIKE IT BUT IT JUST TASTES LIKE CHERRY COUGH MEDICINE 😭🔥

OKOK QOTDDDDD… WHATS A LIFE HACK YOU SWEARRR BY ⁉️⁉️🤞

HOPE U HAVE AN AMAZING DAY/ HAD AN AMAZING DAY ‼️‼️ ILYSMM BYE SIGMA 😈😈

- 🐺

HI ALPHA!!!🐺🐺

NO UR SO OKAY!! i’m getting to ur ask now i promise ill be on top of them more as well😓😓 THANK YEWWW im feeling much better now so im happy <33

GIRL JUST KEEP IT ATP😭 do NAWT pay the fee🫵🫵 $40 is actually ridiculous and yes prioritise ur safety first over anything🙏🙂‍↕️

LMFAO IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT😈😈 sjap megumi is CLINGY. he was waiting for that exact text since they’ve met like and when he got it trust he was jumping up and down😏😏😏 sjap clingy megumi truther FOREVER 💯 also the ai anon I KNOW😭 eh i didn’t really bother w them i know they don’t mean any ill intent but it was just a weird ask to send like atleast don’t put urself on anon and face it but we ball🔥🔥🔥 thank you poo poo 🫂🫂 also i started calling my cat poo poo bc of you and i laugh everytime 😭😭😭

I KNEW YOUD LOVE THE TOGE BIT😭😭😭 fan service for you but omg the favour is going to be [REDACTED] so yeah🙂‍↕️ i NEED to write a sjap toge spinoff after i finish this one i just cannot i know it’ll eat so hard🗣️ YUTAMAKI TRUTHER FOREVER (i still love nobamaki too tho)

NAUR NOT THE WHITE SHEETS😭 omg when i hate when you can physically feel it come out of ur pussy like omg it’s like SUCH A GROSS FEELING EAUGH. BUT YESS HALLOWEEKENDDDD i’m supposed to go my co workers party but idk if i want to LOL i still have no friends in this city besides my co workers but idk i’m content rn i know uni is starting next year but that’s not until 6 more months😭 but we’ll see

YAYY I HOPE IT WENT WELL ALPHA‼️‼️ I KNOW U DID GREAT <3 OMG THE OLIVE THEORY😍😍😍 yes we r soulmates… ive never tried dr pepper mainly bc we don’t have it here so i wouldn’t know😭😭😭

AOTD‼️ IDK MANY BUT the post used one i do is putting a wooden spoon over boiling water so it doesn’t overflow (idk if that counts but yeah) HBY🫵

THANK YEW ALPHA!! I HOPE U HAVE A SUPER SIGMA DAY!! <33

[odetoagirl]

Dear Charlotte Perkins Gilman

is this good for me or bad for me, i cant tell. i feel productive, surely its better than rotting my brain away with concsuming short form media, this certainly requires active thought and prologonged attention, perhaps it is can e considered cretaive or medatative? at least i am creating rather than consuming for once. i can write for longer and longer periods of time, i have more inspiration and ideas, and more to say about those ideas, and perhaps i am improving my expression; although that i am certainly the least sure of. but i cant help feeling as though i might just be consuming my own tail, walking in circles, consuming myself, turning over and over, on the same things. it is neurotic and pathological.

im not intaking any new information, all i can see is all i already know, it is not learning in my usual way. maybe thats okay, could it be considered self reflection? perhaps philosophising or at the very least the development of my writing technique - i do search for the right word and look things up, which is better than nothing. i sort of think all this writing is akin to exercise, which i certainly do not do, but something whispers to me that i am becoming the mad woman in the attic who simply endlessly repeats herself, who cannot escape the fate she predicts of herself.

that is what this is, actually, it is running, it is exercise, round the same grand track endlessly, technique does improve, but slowly and little for lack of outsider critique, indeed you can go for longer and faster each time, but regardless round the track you go and waste away, does the track eat you or do you eat yourself as you continue you onwards, around again. never do you show anyone or compete or compare, you just run, alone, for it is the only thing that quiets your mind and stirs you. you might find when you stop to do something else, that you can do it a little better, but the thought that you must return to the track bleeds internally within you until you do. you used to go weeks without running, now it seems mere hours might drive you to gnawing madness.

so certainly what is it then one ought to do that i should do? ive trapped myself in a cycle of needing to relieve the mental pressure from writing, which certainly is not perfect, but rather a good coping mechanism when considering the alternatives. and too it seems writing is perhaps the only real thing that gives me purpose and joy and i feel motivated to do that cannot just be attributed to a cheap dopamine rush. i really actually enjoy purely for the sake of it, which im not sure i can say for any other single thing. it is not profitable, true, and i limit my own progression by keeping it private, but indeed it is better not to start here and hope to progress? to write in almost privacy here, where i can gain confidence and build the muscles so they might be lean and strong and gain stamina. if i write like this i can one day hope to have the confidence to do something with it, and i keep it all recorded, rather than thinking and being too fearful to write, which certainly might not ever produce any effects at all. i can certainly see that my attention span and concentration is starting to improve even if so very little, my inattentiveness has been snowballing for almost a decade, and this seems to be the only thing to have ever, if only slightly, offered some relief, some remedy. i am beginning to turn away from distraction as tempted by the thought to write, even as i type now my eyes are prickling with tears, i am realising right now with every word, is this what it is to feel, to want? i have to remind myself not to indulge in melodramatic fantasy, i long so badly to want something real that i must not mistake that for the want itself. still, i am putting the pieces together. 1. writing, especially in this way, anonymously, has no clear point or direct benefit in any tangible way. 2. i turn away from easier activities that do provide instant cheap pleasure and direct benefit to write. 3. i have done it for many years. 4. i continue to do it regardless of its fruitfulness, and in spite of the fact that it takes time and work and attention. 5. it makes me feel lighter, peaceful and free. 6. at the very least, even if it goes nowhere, i want to write. let me stop and check that i am not lying to myself right now, not simply caught up in a fictionalised wonder for the sake of it.

'is this what you want? do you want to write?'

'i dont know, surely if i did i would know by now, like know instinctively or at least feel inclined to say yes when you ask me'

'well why the fuck else would you do it?'

'i dont know'

'you have to stop reinforcing this rhetoric that everything you want or think or feel will come naturally to you, it wont, its okay, youre not that person - maybe you could be - but right now you exist under piles and piles of repression, self hatred and restraint, you will have to start to learn how to recognise things about yourself beyond intuition. you must have wants and desires and loves, but for you in this lifetime it will rarely be as simple as a following of your heart, it cannot guide you as it does most, it is far too armoured for that. instead, we look for other options, we learn to explore, and can do other things, like observe your behaviours so that you may come to realise how you feel. you have fought every instinct within your body so fiercely your mind really has won out over it; a difficult thing to do. your soul has forgotten how to tell you what it likes and wants, and so now we have to be hyper vigilant and watch where it still learns to slip through the cracks. your thirst for external knowledge is so insatiable because you know nothing of your subconscious. you turn over and over the same things here, swimming and searching through your own ego and conscious, finding only the same logic and patterns again and again, because your subconscious remains totally inaccessible to you. you have buried your soul in shame so deeply that you totally lack a part of yourself that you will not find by sifting through what you already know and arent afraid of. up to this point, the only other desire you had discovered was for women, which took so many years of discovery, despite your body screaming the signs - which you chose to rather actively ignore. regardless well done with that, even though its still hard, its the only desire you knew for a very very long time. and now, maybe we might add writing to the list. it doesnt have to last, or be in any sort of serious academic pursuit, you dont have to show anyone or profit from it. but learn to say that you like it, that it drives you, that you care about it, that you want it, that being better matters to you. you can be wrong, it doesnt need to mean forever, even if it makes you sick, just say it right now like you mean it. why dont you just try'

'i want to be a writer'

'okay now actually say it'

i want to be a writer.