#watch me run away and not elaborate and CRY

[dannybobany]

the moment you’ve all been waiting for

Ziemia

Or as I’ve been calling her up until now- Rat Mari! Now to tell you the truth Rat Mari/Ziemia took me AGES to properly figure out and when I was first getting started with Marzenie I had no idea what to do about Mari- then I had the rot metaphor idea and decided “rats in the shape of a person is pretty horrible I could do that!”… thus, Mari shaped rat pile and some wooden limbs in there too for vague symbolism reasons? Which. What I mean by that is that I’m drawing a similarity between her and Sol

The whole thing with Sol is the idea of perfection, a person is not capable of perfection and so he must be a doll, must be wood and light and no more- Mari was once perfect too, but her idea is tainted and gone and all that remains is rot. Do you see what I’m saying here? I’m not sure honestly I’ve been brainfogged as hell lately and started this drawing two days ago only to finish it NOW, and to be totally honest the design isn’t everything I wanted from it… but it dawned on me sometime lately that what I do want would be very tedious to draw

I cannot physically draw enough rats for me to be happy with so I compromised with not that many rats- and they aren’t very good rats either I’m not that great with animals … anyhow! Why Ziemia? Well. I think I’ve brought it up before but the in-world explanation for this character is that she was once a nature goddess, like how Sol is a god of the sun- but she was tainted by something terrible and consumed by pests, so Ziemia (in my rudimentary understanding of the polish language thanks to imperfect software because I don’t actually know polish and am doing my best to choose correct translations) is a word that means Earth. There were alternate translations and other words I could’ve used, but I picked Ziemia because it’s 1: a relatively simple word that matches the other ones I’ve used and 2: sounds enough like a name that I find it easy to call a character that and 3: is relatively easy to pronounce for … what I imagine to be my mostly English speaking audience? What five of you there are- other then @/birdzman ! Who I think might actually be polish? Not sure but shout out to you if you’re reading this!! Not fully sure if I’m right but if so then uhhh I apologize for being a dumb little American because I doubt I’m doing these translations right, anyhow!

Rat Mari/Ziemia isn’t just accociated with rats, I also want her to have themes of decay and other scavenger animals such as maggots or worms, the focus on rats is to do with Marzenie’s setting, I guess the idea is that Rats invade homes in winter to survive, whereas bugs mostly die off in winter regardless of available human homes to inhabit, so rats are one of the only pest animals which persist through the snow, which is why they might appear in some places outside Ziemia’s tree area, whilst other associated creatures would be unique to that area

Last but not least of my statements on this character, Ziemia does not represent the grief of Mari’s death, but rather the tangible brutality of it, how death feels in the eyes of a child, the inherent horror of a corpse, of knowing a person was once alive is no longer so, the horror of feeling their body stiff and cold in your arms, arms that once held you … this is what the rot theme comes from, one of Basil’s frequent hallucinations is of her body, decaying on the rope, decaying where he left her.

Cough. YAY!!!!!

[chloecherrysip]

breaking news: local woman goes to the movie theater and somehow DOESN'T see the mario movie again for the millionth time? who IS she??????

[petriwriting]

Promise. - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Theodore gives Y/N a special gift, reminding them that they are his safety in an unsafe world.

A/N: I would imagine this takes place in 6th year, 'cause you know.. Voldemort. But beware I've been really into writing fluff for my comfort characters lately. This is very angsty. Extra heartbreak points if one of them dies at the battle of Hogwarts, use your imagination.

Late-night walks were common for the pair. Especially when they needed to get away for the night, with everyone going on in their world it was no wonder they both needed a break.

Theodore Nott was under the threat of his father, expected to side with Lord Voldemort, it was his reputation as a pure-blooded Slytherin. Perhaps in some sickening way, he felt the need to clear the family name of his father's wrongdoing. But deep down, he knew it wasn't right. They both did.

Y/n was by his side, as loyal as a Hufflepuff. through everything. On the nights his father became aggressive and violent, Theo came to them seeking refuge. Y/n always welcomed the boy with open arms.

They had been a pair since childhood, they attended dinner parties together, and y/n attended every one of Theo's quidditch games. In turn, Theo was there for y/n when classes were stressful, and life felt overwhelming.

It wasn't until that particular evening that things would change, possibly forever.

The two walked along the empty, quiet streets braving the cold air together. they had both been quiet, observing their surroundings and enjoying each other's company in silence.

"Y/n," Theo finally said, shattering the long silence that had been following them.

"hmm?" y/n's voice was soft, quiet. they were now entering a park square. someplace slightly more private than the streets.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About us."

y/n's heart began to race. surely this wasn't a breakup, how could Theo possibly be abandoning all they had, after all, they had been through? this couldn't be. y/n was so accustomed to hearing bad news these days that it was the only solution their brain could come up with.

"Y/n," Theo turned to them, holding their face in cold pale hands. "I love you, but I don't want to be with you in this war," he said.

"Teddy, I don't understand-"

"Please just listen." Theo insisted quietly. "This is not me parting ways with you, I- could never," he explained gently. "I propose that we run away. change our names, we can flee and start a new life together. without all the dangers of being here."

Y/n was unconvinced and looked down for a moment before locking eyes with him.

"I love you more than anything. But if we stay here our lives will be in danger, possibly forever."

Y/n couldn't deny that fact. The war had already taken people they both loved. It wasn't right to be talking about wanting to get married one day, have kids, and grow old together if it meant they would be living in danger, living in fear.

"It isn't right. We can't just flee. we need to fight this," y.n shook their head gently, partially in disbelief. "no matter what happens." the pair locked eyes and the snow began to gently fall around them, coating the park in a grey glow.

"Then promise me."

Theodore shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a tiny deep red velvet box. It was battered, aged, and torn. but it was still soft. "Promise me, that you'll stick around, no matter what." as soon as Theo mimicked y/n's words, soft tears began falling from their eyes, watching him toy with the box.

Out from the box emerged a shiny, silver ring with an elaborate stone placed in it. something very expensive no doubt. something that was purchased with his father's money. Theodore offered the ring to y/n.

"This was my mother's ring," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaking. "I took it from her things when she,-" Theo gasped quietly, the shaky breath taking the air out of his lungs when he tried to continue his sentence.

Y/n grabbed the sides of his face, the boy wasn't crying, Theodore rarely ever cried. but there was hurt in his eyes that pained y/n to see.

"I promise." barely a whisper. "no matter what Theo, I'll always be right here."

Y/n's soft touch brushed against Theo's cheeks before he pulled forward pressing their lips together in desperation. It was a sweet and heartfelt kiss, like two lovers that couldn't live without each other.

After the kiss, they embraced one another very tightly as the snow collected around them.

"I just want everything to be okay," Y/n whispered. "we'll be okay."

they pulled away from one another, each shivering in the cold. Y/n took the ring and gently twirled it around their thumb and forefinger. "Theo I can not take your mother's ring." it was dazzling. quite beautiful for that sort of thing. "I know how much this means to you." y/n said. Theo was insistent. "I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life, y/n. But I was never wrong about you. I want you to have it, keep it, my end of our promise." he insisted.

"Theo-"

y/n was promptly cut off. "Please take this. you know how much it means to me, you mean more than that." his heartfelt confession made y/n's stomach flutter, it was that same feeling they had when they were younger and Theo would hold their hand or say just the right thing. Theo grabbed the ring and slipped it onto y/n's middle finger.

"I'll guard it with my life." y/n said with another shiver, the later the night grew the colder the chill in the air became.

"Here, love," Theo said, taking off his coat and offering it to Y/n by draping it around their shoulders. "but Theo, you'll be cold." y/n retorted, but Theo was incredibly insistent that evening. "I can manage until we are safe at home," he chuckled softly. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

As the two continued on their path, Theo wrapped their arm around y/n, in an effort to keep them warm and as an act of deep affection. Y/n leaned their head over onto Theo's arm.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 7 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Just when Anna starts to feel settled, a simple cookout at her friend's house turns everything upside down. Her jealousy shines through, and there's nothing she can do to try to take it back.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Things with Bob felt like they shifted back to normal again, and Anna was thankful for that. Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

She was running a little late to meet him at the usual coffee shop, worried he would already be there. He seemed to end up paying for her drink every single time, which was honestly really sweet of him, but she felt like such a nuisance. When she walked inside, he was there, at a table with two steaming mugs in front of him and his nose buried in a book. In one of Anna's books. In her copy of Wuthering Heights.

Her whole body felt too warm as she thought about how much she would love to have Bob read every single one of the hundreds of books she owned. Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

But she couldn't do that. They were just friends. So instead, she dropped down into the empty seat across from him and said, "Hi, Bob," with a smile she hoped wasn't as sad as she felt.

"Anna." Her name sounded like golden perfection when he said it, and she shivered. "This book... I can't stop reading it. I read it twice already," he said with a little laugh. "How in the world do you always know exactly what I'm going to like?"

Because she felt undeniably drawn to him and his preferences and everything about him.

"Because I'm a professional."

He laughed a little more as his pretty lake-blue eyes followed her cup as she brought it up to her lips. When the ceramic touched her, he looked away as his cheeks grew pink. He pushed the book across the table, and when she reached for it, he said, "Uh, just read that note later, okay?"

When she saw the edge of white paper sticking out from the worn pages, she said, "Sure, Bob."

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Did you hear about the change of venue for tomorrow?"

Anna ducked her head. "Yeah, the girls told me about it at lunch yesterday. A cookout? Bradley wants to show off his new grill?"

Bob nodded and said, "Could be a nice change from the Hard Deck for once."

While he wasn't wrong, Anna hated that she still barely had enough money to make ends meet. San Diego was expensive, and when she asked Advanced Calculus what she could bring with her to their house to contribute to the meal, her friend said to bring hot dog and hamburger buns. Anna was already trying to figure out how to scrape together the ten dollars that would be required when Jessica said she already bought some along with chips and pretzels. When she didn't quite meet Anna's eyes, she knew for a fact that Jessica had figured her out.

"Yeah. I suppose," Anna told Bob. But at least at the Hard Deck, Penny didn't usually even charge her for the three dollar ginger ales. And if she did, one of the guys just put it on their tab like it was nothing. When she showed up empty handed to the cookout, she was going to feel awful that Jessica had covered for her. 

"You want another coffee?" Bob asked, standing with his own mug, but Anna shook her head. She couldn't let him pay for another thing. Perhaps deleting multi millionaire Dev Borah's phone number wasn't her best move. Not that she would ever take advantage of someone for their money. Not after what Kevin did to her.

"No. But thank you. I actually can't stay very long today."

Bob nodded before saying, "No worries. I have dinner plans with Suzanne before Mickey picks me up for D&D anyway."

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

------------------------

It was late on Saturday night, and he should have been in bed, but Bob had his computer out. He reasoned that he could sleep in as late as he wanted tomorrow before heading to pick up the burgers Bradley asked him to bring for the cookout. He could stay up as long as it took for him to finish this poem and finally post it on PoetsAmongUs after looking at it for weeks.

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

"What are you doing?" he asked himself softly. Somehow he believed that writing about her specifically would cleanse him of these thoughts, but now he knew he was wrong. He proofread and posted his poem anyway while his skin prickled with need. He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

She made him want to keep leaving her notes in the books he borrowed from her, but she also made him feel like an idiot for wanting to do that. It was maddening. He needed to sleep, but he was too warm, imagining Anna once again in place of his faceless lover while he touched himself. He almost couldn't wait until the day when someone else would take her place in his mind, even if it meant settling.

The next day, he drove his old pickup toward the coast with the burgers and a six pack of ginger ale in tow. The Spanish revival style house that Bradley purchased before he and his wife made things official again was cute with desert landscaping, but she was the one who really made it a home. There was art hanging on the walls in every room, including a panoramic watercolor of the scenery of Virginia. The front bedroom had been turned into her home office, and for some reason, she had Bradley's fraternity paddle hanging in there. The house seemed more lived in now, and Bob knew Bradley was much happier for it.

"Hey, thanks man," Bradley told him, taking the bag of burgers when he got there. He was wearing his hideous Grateful Dead shirt and holding two cans of beer on one hand, but he still managed to give Bob a quick hug. "Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

Bob held up the ginger ales in response and said, "Thanks, but I'll just have one of these for now." The last thing he wanted was a hangover like he had after their New Year's Eve party.

"Hi!" Jessica said as she and Jake walked inside, and she made a beeline right for Bob. "Have you given any more thought to how I should paint my barbarian?"

He just smiled as she started to push him through the kitchen toward the back door. "We just played yesterday. I didn't know you'd still be in the mood to talk about your ridiculous D&D character."

"Please," she practically whined. "You know how sensitive my barbarian is."

Bob snorted; truly he never would have expected he and she would have had so much in common, but even Jessica couldn't keep his attention once he saw who Bradley's wife was talking to. Anna had some freckles on her thighs. Her cutoff denim shorts went high enough up her legs that he was treated to the sight of freckles everywhere. And that wasn't all. Not even close. The deep "V" of her shirt revealed that there was a pretty good chance the freckles even trailed down inside her bra.

He wasn't going to survive the cookout if he had to look at her all afternoon. Her red hair was clipped up on top of her head with some sort of claw-shaped thing, and her skin was just everywhere. Her neck and her legs and the swell of her breasts. Her fingernails were burgundy again, just like the first day he saw her. She hadn't even noticed him yet, which was terrible, because if she had, he would have looked away by now. Instead he was given ample opportunity to memorize the way her legs looked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, shuffling her beat up sneakers a bit along the patio.

"Oh," Jessica whispered, squeezing his bicep gently when he stopped responding to her. "Yeah, that'll do it." Her tone sounded slightly sympathetic, and it made Bob so self conscious. "Let's go say hi."

He shook his head jerkily and muttered, "In a second." Anna was currently laughing, head thrown back in delight, and Bob got the briefest peek at the strip of skin above her shorts and her bellybutton, and his brain actually stopped functioning. When she tipped her head forward again, an overjoyed smile still on her lips, she met his gaze. His brain jump started again as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he took a step in her direction before he could reconsider.

"Hey, Bob." She sounded a little breathless as she said his name while Bradley's wife smirked at the two of them. But he and Anna were just friends, and he needed to remember that.

"Anna," he replied softly, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. His palms were sweaty, and he knew he was blushing. He'd never make it out of here alive. Not when she was looking at him like that. 

She smiled and said, "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him, then he heard someone screeching his name.

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

"I didn't know you were coming home today," he said in surprise.

"I didn't tell anyone except Bradley. Did I surprise you?" she asked.

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

-----------------------------

Anna couldn't believe how incredible her friend's house was. It was huge and beautiful, and she had a yard. A yard! In California! There was colorful art on the walls, which appeared to be a collection of things that she and Bradley enjoyed. Her office was something Anna could only dream about, and the kitchen was bigger than her whole apartment.

After a tour of the interior, she stood on the patio in the autumn sunlight in a pair of shorts, something she would have never been able to do in New Jersey. Every day seemed to get better than the last, assuming she could keep the intrusive thoughts about Kevin away. And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

"You have to hear what happened in my Differential Equations lecture on Friday afternoon," her friend was saying as they stood near the new grill that would soon be the centerpiece of the afternoon. "You won't even believe it."

Anna listened for a minute to the wild story, bursting into laughter when she learned how her friend thought she was going to have to call the fire department while she was teaching. Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

She had to bite her lip in an attempt to calm herself down. "Hey, Bob," she managed to say as his cheeks flushed pink.

"Anna."

Oh, she was a mess. She thought about him way too frequently, even taking the time to compile the titles of some books she had read and loved, convincing herself he might like some of them too. "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

But she stopped mid sentence when she heard some excited chatter behind Bob, and then a woman came running out through the back door. A beautiful woman. Calling his name. Jumping into his arms. Anna was treated to the sight of the woman's lips brushing against Bob's cheek while he held onto her like he was just reunited with the only person he ever cared about. She had to watch as this other woman ran her fingers gently along his skin in exactly the way Anna fantasized about. And when she looked around, nobody seemed concerned by this turn of events, rather they all acted like it was perfectly normal that Bob and this woman were whispering intimately to each other.

Then Anna heard her say, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

Oh. Well. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she took a step backwards as the rest of the group greeted this mystery woman. Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Anna felt like her chest was growing tighter by the second, and then Jessica started to pull the pretty brunette toward her. "You have to come meet the newest faculty member from the English department! Dr. Anna Webber."

The woman looked her up and down with dark, appraising eyes and a little smirk set firmly on her lips. Then she stuck out her right hand and said, "I'm Natasha Trace."

The last thing Anna wanted to do right now was shake hands, but Jessica was looking at her with concern, probably wondering why she was just standing there. "It's a pleasure," Anna said with as much conviction as she could muster, shaking hands as briefly as she could.

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Jessica was beaming now as she said, "Anna gives book recommendations to Bob all the time."

"Really? Is that so?" Natasha asked, still eyeing Anna like a predator would their prey, when Bob appeared with two cans of ginger ale. He gave one to Natasha and then tried to hand the other one to Anna as Natasha said, "I actually read a phenomenal book last month, Bob. I'll write down the title for you."

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

The uncomfortable feeling was overtaking Anna's whole body now when Natasha leaned a little closer to Bob and softly muttered, "Let me guess... you have a little crush? This happened in my absence?"

Anna turned and went inside, searching for the bathroom she'd seen on the house tour. That woman was mocking her. Anna didn't want to hear any more of that conversation, because it was making her skin crawl. And worse still, she was finally able to identify this feeling as she closed and locked the door and leaned on the sink vanity.

Jealousy. 

She was more jealous of this petite brunette who seemed to think Bob's personal space was hers for the taking than she ever was about Kevin and Alyssa. She was beside herself at the idea of another woman giving Bob book recommendations and making fun of his stupid little crush on her.

This was exactly why she should have never let herself have feelings. When she looked in the mirror, she saw tears in her eyes. "Shit," she whispered. She didn't have a car, so she couldn't just discreetly leave. Plus she'd been looking forward to eating something other than one of her sad sandwiches for days.

The jealousy gave way to anger as she wiped her eyes with a tissue and dropped it in the trash can. Her new friends invited her here, and she was going to stay. She wasn't going to let her feelings for Bob Floyd dictate her mood or what she felt she was allowed to do. She wasn't going to let another man run her life like that ever again.

With her head held high, she walked back outside, making it a point to avoid Bob and Natasha at all costs. She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance. Then she and Bradley discussed the extensive musical catalogue of the Grateful Dead while she slowly sipped a beer to try to take the edge off. Then he turned on the grill, and the smell of food cooking had her excited enough that it was becoming easier and easier to ignore Bob.

When she accidentally looked his way, he was already eyeing her with a confused expression. She could pretend all day long that she didn't care what he thought and that she wasn't jealous at all. She could be so stubborn about this. At least all they had between them was that one awkward, fumbled kiss in his truck. It wasn't like she'd slept with him before he ditched her for the much better looking Natasha.

She was still doing a fine job of ignoring both of them when Bradley announced that dinner was ready. Anna took a plate of food and scooted all the way to the end of the rectangular patio table, snagging the spot across from Jessica. She was willing to talk about anything right now, even her friend's physics curriculum that she could barely comprehend, but then Bob was right next to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked cautiously, setting his plate next to hers. Anna just shrugged, and then she was enveloped in his clean scent as he eased himself down in the seat with his knee hitting her thigh. She quickly crossed her legs before scooting her chair a few inches to the side away from his. "Are you okay?"

Anna almost laughed as Natasha found a spot on the other side of the table. "I'm just fine," she said before taking a huge bite of her burger and avoiding looking at either of them.

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

Anna shook her head, and when she was done chewing the delicious food, she said, "Not at all. You're free to make the decisions you want to make. And I'm free to keep my books to myself since you've got other ones now."

Bob looked at her and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

But Anna was well on her way to starting a conversation with Jessica that could probably last for hours. She ignored him as she asked, "Hey, Jess, what's up with that physics professor who just started wearing a toupee?"

"Dr. Leeland!" she screeched before launching into an animated conversation on the topic of her colleague's hair piece just as expected.

------------------------

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair? Bob sat there and listened to the conversation while he ate, trying to interject, but Anna just wasn't having it. She had even rejected his ginger ale.

What the hell did he do wrong? All he wanted to do was talk to her about books and look at her freckles. She was sitting right next to him, but he may as well have been on Jupiter with the way she seemed convinced that he wasn't even there at all.

As everyone started to finish eating, Bob washed his food down with the rest of his ginger ale. Maybe he should just head home early. He'd be spending all week at work with Nat, so it wasn't like he was going to miss out on much there. And being around Anna when she wasn't even looking at him made him feel like an idiot for secretly writing poems about her. He sat at the table alone for an extra minute with his head cradled in his hands, then he took his trash inside the house.

Of course Anna was the only other person in the kitchen, helpfully washing the grilling utensils and other things Bradley left in the sink. She glanced his way briefly before continuing with her task, and Bob headed for the trash can. He had the perfect view of the freckles on the backs of her thighs, but he didn't feel like he should be looking now. He stood quietly for a few seconds before deciding that he'd give this one last try before heading out.

"Anna," he said just loud enough that he knew she could hear him over the running water. "Can we talk? I just feel like I did something to upset you? When you started to invite me to the bookstore, I was going to say yes. Obviously I'd love to go with-"

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he went silent at her glare. "Why don't you just go with Natasha instead?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's not the kind of thing she and I usually do together."

"Oh?" she asked, her voice dripping with something that made Bob's skin tingle with goosebumps. "Does she usually recommend books while you're out to dinner? Or do you take her to see her favorite movies?" 

She turned off the water and faced him without bothering to dry her hands. His lips parted as he watched the furious looking blush that crept along her chest, up her neck, and to her cheeks. 

"I don't really do those things with her either," he said slowly, trying to puzzle his way through this. She sounded almost jealous of Nat, but that couldn't be. That didn't make any sense at all. Anna made it clear she didn't want to be with him.

"Well, you're free to do whatever you want, Bob," she said with a shrug, chin held high. "This is why we're just friends. You've already got plenty of women to choose from, like Suzanne and Natasha, and I'm not about to get caught up in another attractive man who seems too good to be true."

She started to duck past him, but Bob blocked her path. "Whoa, whoa! No, you've got it all wrong." She doubled back the other way, but he stepped to the side until she bumped into him. "Suzanne is my elderly neighbor. And Natasha and I are friends," he said quickly, and he was rewarded with Anna's brown eyes snapping up to meet his. "I've known her for years. She's the pilot I usually fly with."

Anna took one stumbling step backwards toward the sink. Her teeth sank into her lip like earlier before she whispered, "Oh." She swallowed hard, drawing Bob's gaze back to the freckles on her neck as her blush grew deeper. "So you're not... into her?"

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

The kitchen went so silent that Bob could hear laughter filtering from the patio through the open door, and Anna's expression softened as she took a tiny step forward. Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Anna coaxed him impossibly closer with her fingers in his hair and on the back of his neck, and soon he had her pinned against the edge of the counter. He could feel denim rubbing against denim as she parted her lips and wiggled slowly against him. When Bob swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, Anna let him taste her before her lips drifted along to his neck.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing her hips in his hands as his index finger met the soft skin of her lower back. She was sucking gently on the spot just to the left of his Adam's apple, and there was no way she couldn't feel how hard he was getting for her right now.

Those burgundy fingernails were scraping gently along his scalp as he rolled his hips one time against her body. When Anna licked his neck, he forced himself to ask the question that was fluttering around the peripheral of his aroused brain. "Are you going to tell me this is another mistake? Like that night in my truck?"

Anna pulled her lips away from his pulse point long enough to whisper, "It wasn't even a mistake last time. I just couldn't help myself."

Then Bob kissed her lips until she was clinging to him with her back arched against the counter and her hips held tightly in his hands. When he could tell someone was coming inside, he pulled himself away, panting as she tried to chase him for more. He could see the questioning look on her face as he stepped aside just before Mickey and Jake walked inside, arguing about who ate the last hot dog.

Anna turned back toward the sink as she blushed, and Bob was aching to kiss her again. Dying to confirm that she wasn't going to write him off again. He cleared his throat and asked, "Will you let me drive you home later?"

Bob heard her soft laugh and whispered, "Yes." Then with a smile, he took the last can of ginger ale from the refrigerator and set it on the counter next to her. She looked up at him, eyes filled with need as he excused himself back out to the patio where he started to count down the minutes until he could suggest it was late enough to leave.

---------------------------

Anna, you are living the dream, baby! Let him love you the way he wants to! And once again, in Natasha we trust. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

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@hobireasns

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@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[sp0o0kylights]

I started writing an enemies to lovers Steddie fic that starts off as Tommy/Steve/Carol with this prompt except Im tired and I lost the plot lmao so instead let me float the images of:

Modern college town AU featuring frat president Steve, who's been convinced no one will ever really love him by his parents, his past relationships, and Tommy & Carol. The latter not only "date" him but regularly use him and his money by utilizing his self worth issues against him.

Hes barely scrapping by in class, kind of wants to pick up a side job to get out from under his parents financial thumb, and enjoys talking shit with his sort of new friend Robin at a retro vinyl store, but with Tommy and Carol reporting back to his parents/the frat he's not able to take up Robin's offer to work there with her.

The frat keeps him busy the rest of the time--he's a legacy, and several members are deeply entrenched into a competition against the other fraternities that frequently cause problems on campus due to their pranks, parties and general bullshit. Steve has to run shoulders with the college Dean and such a LOT to peace keep.

Eddie works at the major game shop across the road from the vinyl place, which helps pay for the automotive program he's in part time at the college. He runs all the D&D campaigns, including several for adults and kids. A lot of the events he tries to get going on campus get shut down as the school and police target him and the "scary kids" in a show of misdirected anger at the frats they can't touch without risk of losing out on their parents money.

Eddies particularly pissed at Steve after an infamous incident involving Eddie spearheading a pokemon go event that came into contact with some kind of frat beer run, which led to Eddie being wrongfully arrested.

Their enemies piece began with Eddie storming into Steve's frat, demanding he do something as he's one of the more influential presidents and Steve, goaded on by Tommy and Carol, refusing.

This is further cemented when Eddie finds out one of his favorite high school players, Dustin, is close with Steve and defends him constantly, refusing to elaborate much when pressed other than to tell Eddie that Steve used to watch Dustin a lot as a babysitting gig and he's a "really good guy under all the frat shit Eddie, seriously."

(Dustin does not elaborate that his mother was on the PTA with Steve's mother and that she clocked his parents abuse, and used the babysitting angle to get Steve out of that house as a kid, and Steve sees Ma Henderson more as a proper parental figure than his own parents.)

Throw in some light sub/dom dynamics, Eddie breaking into Steve's room as revenge only to overhear Tommy and Carol being downright vicious to him, and a "who did this to you" crying in the rain scene before the prompt line finally kicks in.

I wanted Tommy and Carol to be fucking gagging crying throwing up furious when Steve finally blows it all up, and for the fallout to be so insane for Steve that he ends up either starting his own frat with Eddie or throwing away his title entirely and having several of the not shit frat boys follow him out.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

your desi reader fics make me feel so seen 🥹 can I request an oscar x desi reader fic? maybe of them like watching a bollywood movie together bc I just know he’d ask a gazillion questions bc it doesn’t make sense but they’re not meant to follow logic bro just enjoy 😭

Just Pure Feeling -`♡´-

☾ op x desi!reader ༊*·˚

☾ fluff ༊*·˚

masterlist ☾☼

It was a cozy evening in your apartment. The low thrum of the ceiling fan and the smell of dinner you'd just had clung to the air. You sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by cushions in every colour imaginable, with the warm dimming of fairy lights softening the room.

Oscar was staring at the TV screen, seemingly befuddled; he had somehow found himself snuggled next to you. His usual biting wit and calm demeanor seem to have deserted him utterly.

The film? Ah, Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham—one of your favorites, the great family epic of love, drama, and much else more.

You glanced over at him, trying not to laugh. He was taking this whole Bollywood thing very seriously.

"Okay, so… let me get this straight," Oscar said, pausing the movie just as a dramatic scene of Shah Rukh Khan running across the airport flashed on the screen. “Why does he look like he’s running through a storm of rose petals?”

You laughed, taking the remote control from his hand and played the movie. "It's a Bollywood film, Oscar. It's not about the logic. It's about the emotions".

He blinked twice, eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension. "He's just… running? Like, why is he running in slow motion? And what's with the over-the-top background music? No one does this shit in real life".

"Oh, trust me. It's all part of the charm," you said with a grin, squeezing his arm. "It's the drama, the flair, the passion. It's what makes it special."

Oscar shook his head, still processing what he'd just witnessed. "But why is everyone crying so much? Like, for a movie that literally means 'sometimes happiness, sometimes sadness', I've only seen sadness till now. And why is everyone wearing these elaborate outfits for literally every occasion?"

"Because they're expressing their feelings, Oscar! Emotions are bigger than life here. And don't even get me started on the fashion—it's a cultural thing. The more bling, the better." You laughed at his confused expression. "You'll get used to it. It's about the spectacle."

He furrowed his brow, not satisfied. "Spectacle? The movie's just one melodrama after another! A huge family reunion, and now everyone's hugging… Did he just turn away from his family for years over a misunderstanding?"

You bit your lip to hold in a chuckle. "Yep. That's what makes it Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham — sometimes you have happiness, sometimes sadness. It's all about the grand emotional journey."

Oscar gazed at the screen a few more seconds, his eyes wide. "Okay, but how do they have the energy to sing and dance in the middle of a serious conversation? Like, how does that happen?"

"Bollywood logic," you shrugged, as if that explained everything. "People break into song in the middle of a heartfelt discussion. They could be talking about how to solve world peace, and suddenly it's a dance number. It's magic, Oscar."

He rubbed his temples, clearly trying to keep up with the plot, but at least, he was trying. "But… they just lost their son in a family feud. Why is there a dance number in the middle of a tragedy? This makes no sense!"

You laughed so hard that you had to pause the movie for a moment, clutching your stomach. "Because, Oscar," you said, voice still bubbling with laughter, "it's a Bollywood film. It's a rollercoaster of emotions. You go from crying your eyes out to dancing in the rain in the blink of an eye."

Oscar blinked again, his eyes flicking between the screen and you, as if trying to make sense of it all. "So, what you're saying is… it's not supposed to make sense?"

"Exactly. You're supposed to feel it."

"Well, I'm definitely feeling something," Oscar muttered under his breath. "I just don't know what it is."

"Good!" You smirk at him, flicking him lightly on the shoulder. "Now stop overthinking it and enjoy the ride."

Oscar sank back into the couch with a heavy sigh, surrendering himself to not knowing anything. And yet, you could see the curiosity in his eyes amidst the confusion. "Fine, fine. No reasoning. Just.. pure feeling. Got it."

As the movie played, you snuggled closer to him, feeling his arm instinctively wrap around your shoulders. You felt him press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

"He's so pretty," You murmured at one point.

"Who? The actor?" Oscar asked immediately, sitting up a little straighter.

You hadn't realised that you had said it out loud, but you supposed that he was going to find out eventually.

"Shah Rukh Khan. He's so pretty," Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched the actor go through his motions.

"You sound like you're in love with him," Oscar laughed, "Thank God, you're not, huh?"

You didn't respond, not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

"You're not, right?" Oscar emphasised.

"Uh huh, sure. Of course I'm not, that'd be," you paused, sighing sadly, "stupid,"

Oscar shook his head. He didn't know what to say. His girlfriend had a crush on an actor that he was pretty sure had a wife and kids.

You had to admit, this was one of your favorite ways to share your world with him—watching him slowly come around to something so deeply ingrained in your culture, even if he couldn't fully grasp it yet.

A few moments later, when the screen changed to a song-and-dance number, Oscar let out a short laugh. "Alright, so, now they're all dancing on top of a moving car. Got it. Makes perfect sense."

You snorted. "Exactly! That's the spirit!"

You sat there side by side, watching the drama on the screen, but in the midst of it, something much more important was going on: the two of you were creating a beautiful little moment of your own. Not one that had to make sense, but one that simply existed, full of laughter, love, and the warmth of a shared experience.

And, hey, if Oscar cried at some point during the film, you were not supposed to know that. The usually emotionless man had lost the war with a simple Bollywood movie, and may have finally shed a tear or two.

And as the credits rolled, Oscar turned to you with a mock-serious expression. "Alright, I think I'm ready for the next one."

You grinned, already planning your next Bollywood movie marathon. It was clear that Oscar had a lot more questions to ask, but you had no doubt he'd be enjoying the journey every bit as much as you did.

"Get ready for Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge next," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye. "It's even more dramatic."

Oscar sighed dramatically, sinking into the couch. "This is going to be a long night."

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

okay, im ngl, i like this op x desi!reader way more than the previous one. i think i'm getting the hang of writing oscar a little bit. let me know if y'all like this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[ghost-proofbaby]

who could stay? (you could stay.) (eddie munson x reader)

summary: you're convinced that being loved comes with a cost. he finds a way to prove you wrong. (wc: 9.7k+)

order up! i've got one ash's special for anonymous. ♡

Keep going, keep going, keep going. 

Agree to run that errand for someone. Offer a shoulder to cry on for that person. Fix that problem for this friend. Keep going, keep offering, keep becoming indispensable. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact age you’d figured out the formula. You can never know for sure if the day was sunny or if it were rainy, if it were a calm December morning or a buzzing July night, but those details aren’t very important. The only important detail is that you had finally cracked the code at some point – you had finally figured out the solution to feeling unlovable. And that was that, truthfully, there wasn’t a solution. Once you were destined to feel this way, to feel so sour at your core, there is no easy way to rid yourself of that rotten pit. It would always be there – always churning, always burning, always yearning. Yearning to be loved, yearning to feel those waves of warmth cascading over your brain and down your spine, the ones others had always described to you but you’d just never… experienced. Never became familiar with.

It felt like everyone was playing an over-elaborate prank on you. They’d all conspired against you, invented a false feeling in which someone claims to feel loved, only to sit back and watch as you fumbled to find it. They’d laughed as you dug through a graveyard of relationships, caked your fingernails with dirt as you sobbed and would continue to claw deeper, trying to find just one set of bones that might hold that warmth for you. 

The only solution to that detrimental feeling of being unlovable, was to feel needed. 

You needed to feel so necessary, so essential, to everyone around you at all times. It never mattered how much of you it took. You’d give away every piece of yourself a million times over just to feel wanted at some capacity, even if that capacity were one you’d forced upon the other person. You didn’t care if you’d built the glass cages of theirs – you just cared that they kept you around to wipe away any smudges that appeared. 

Being wanted wasn’t quite the same as being loved. And if you thought about that for too long or too often, you might just break irrevocably. 

“I just don’t understand him,” Nancy sighs from the head of your bed, reclining against a wall of pillows you’d lined your headboard with. Two of which were body pillows. Long tubes of fluff to try and fill lonely spaces, you suppose, “Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to go to the same college? Why… Why do I feel like I am forcing him to be with me?” 

Because you are. Just like I force you all to need me. 

“I don’t know, Nance.” 

That bland, bitter, half-thought out answer lingers on your tongue, almost burns your throat with the whisper of say more, say something useful, say something comforting. It’s the whisper of those four words not being enough. It’s the whisper of that threat that those four words could be the beginning of the end, the thing that makes Nancy realize she doesn’t need you. 

After all, what use is a friend that can’t give good advice, or be supportive during relationship rants? 

You open your mouth to add on something sweeter, something to coat the conversation like honey and smooth out the lines forming on Nancy’s forehead, but she beats you to it, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

Yes. “It’s fine,” at least that wasn’t a lie – you’d dug this specific grave, had rooted down tooth and nail only to find another empty coffin of a friendship curtained with want instead of love. You’d all but asked for this, “What he did really was shitty. It’s not fair to you.” 

The words are almost robotic, telling Nancy Wheeler what she wants to hear rather than what she needs to hear.  You don’t always do that, you do make a point of investing in the truth from time to time to truly secure your position as someone who is genuinely needed in her life, but the headache nagging at your temples tells you it’s not worth the fight tonight. You’re tired, you’re agitated, and you really just want to get Nancy to the point of contentment in her rambling so that you can send her on her way. 

God, you’re an awful friend. 

It turns you quiet, a ricocheting thought that bruises your inner skull the rest of the time Nancy sits on your bed. The guilt eats you alive for that moment of irritation the rest of the night. Even after Nancy goes home, even after you’ve brushed your teeth and you’ve tucked yourself into bed. The guilt gnaws on the edges of that emptiness inside of you, that ever-present black hole that already existed, and says this is why you cannot be loved. 

Maybe the pity party for feeling like a bad friend is what makes you a bad friend. 

And maybe if you were a better friend, you would be loved instead of wanted for once. 

It’s all part of a cycle, never-ending and treacherous. It’s always been this way. You make promises to your friends and rip yourself to shreds before remolding yourself into whatever they need; giving rides to the younger kids within your circle to the pool all summer which evolved into taking turns with Steve as to who would pick them all up after their D&D club ran late every Friday night, always lending a listening ear to Nancy once Johnathan moved away and she’d had to witness her relationship and her love vanishing in real time, always being the one person who will listen to Robin ramble for hours about her sudden interests. None of it was born of ill-intent, but when you’d go home lonesome at the end of the night, you could see it all for what it was. 

You were trying to fill a void. A hollow rot, a black hole. And it was only working half the time. 

Half the time, until he came along. 

And make no mistake, his arrival was as bloody as anyone who had previously entered your life. For a while there, you believed his headstone was at the end of the line already, sanctioned away in this graveyard of the ability to be loved. He came crashing into your life on a random Friday night, and you had sworn you could already see the end as it began, but you had been wrong. 

“So, you’re the infamous babysitter.” 

His voice caught you off guard. You’d been sitting in your car with your windows down, enjoying the reprieve of a cooling autumn evening as you waited for the boys to finish up with their D&D club. With your head buried in the latest sci-fi novel that Dustin had recommended and would no doubt be grilling you on once he got in the car, you hadn’t even heard the club exit the school. 

“Nope,” you fought a smile as you glanced up from the pages to see an older guy standing there, closer to yours and Steve’s age than the kids. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the famous Eddie all the boys would ramble on about for hours on end, “Harrington’s the babysitter. I’m just the taxi driver.” 

There was something particularly pretty in the way he threw his head back with laughter at your words. Curls that messily fell just beyond his shoulders, full lips disappearing as his teeth peeked through and shined beneath the parking lot’s lamp posts. His denim vest looked purposefully distressed with a mirage of patches and pins, and he was wearing a leather jacket beneath it, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough for it yet outside. He was cute – and watching him laugh because of you sparked something irreversible inside of you. 

“C’mon now,” he sighed as his cackles quieted, “Give yourself more credit than that. At least call yourself something fancy, like ‘chauffeur’.” 

“Ah, but ‘taxi driver’ insinuates that I charge them,” you don’t miss a beat, and your quick wit has him chuckling again. 

You caught sight of his eyes, corners creased with joy – brown. They were deep, russet, tantalizing brown. Almost indiscernible from his pupil in the dark. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You took his hand that he shoved through your open window with ease, and felt an immediate shiver run down your spine. Not quite from the cold, but not quite warm. You saw the first flash of his grave, and you knew you’d be digging your greedy hands into it soon enough. 

As you gave him your name in return, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone. 

You had been half right that night. You wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone, you would be seeking out the impossible from Eddie – but so would he. 

It quickly became apparent that Eddie was a pest. Someone who weaseled his way into the lives of others, who made his presence felt and never forgotten. 

You’d started with the same slow dance as you did with every new person, a hesitant dipping of your toes into their waters, unsure if your presence in their life would only cause more trouble than you’re worth, when you quickly discovered that nothing could ever be hesitant or slow with Eddie Munson. He’s the one constantly reaching out to you. Driving the kids home now takes double the time it used to, long conversations being had with him that has the kids dragging you away, practically begging to just be taken home. The day he’d asked for your number, you couldn’t tell which one of you burned brighter red. And the moment he had your number in his clutches? Forget about it. You never heard the end of Eddie Munson, and you never really wanted to. 

Unlike your friends you already had and loved deeply, Eddie was observant. 

It’s within the first month of knowing you that he had picked up on your insecurities. Maybe he hadn’t directly seen that gaping hole in your chest yet, but he noticed your habit of running yourself dry to see others thrive. 

The need to be needed. He picked up on it quickly. 

“What about Sunday?” Eddie’s voice traveled over the line as you laid on your stomach, stretched out across your bed for a few moments of rest before you had to get up and take the cookies you’d baked for Steve and Robin into Family Video, just like you had promised, “I’m free then if I finish all my fuckin’ homework on Saturday night.”

Surprisingly, that phone call with Eddie hadn’t been something expected or planned. It had been impulsive; in a rare moment of peace, you found yourself craving to hear his voice. Somehow, the two of you had ended up trying to figure out a free day to properly hang out. Eddie wanted to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, and you wouldn’t turn down the free fries he also promised.

“I can’t,” you paused just to hear his predictably dramatic sigh, grinning as you continued to explain, “I’m taking Max to the skatepark that day.”

“And it’s going to take all day?” 

“It could!”

“There’s absolutely no way.”

“You clearly haven’t seen that girl skate.” 

The conversation continued, light-hearted enough with plentiful jokes made. Something about talking with Eddie made your heart lighter, the usual unbearable and contradictory weight of emptiness no longer on your mind as you listened to him ramble about something that had happened in one of his classes – a teacher tried to embarrass him when he caught Eddie doodling for a D&D campaign by asking him a question, not expecting him to know the answer. Eddie had, of course, leaving the teacher baffled with a smirk.

 It’s all about my charm, sweetheart, he responded when you asked how he hadn’t earned a detention from that. 

Only towards the end of the call, when the conversation finally lulled and the two of you found yourselves settled into a comfortable silence, did Eddie finally circle back to the beginning of your conversation. 

“You know,” he started, “When I first met you, I never took you to be someone so…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Funny?” you jokingly attempted to finish his sentence.

“Busy.” 

Oh. You hadn’t expected that one. 

“Busy?” you repeated back to him, “I’m not that busy.” 

Your mind immediately started racing with thoughts of what he had meant. Was he feeling neglected? Maybe you should have canceled on Max on Sunday, agreed to Benny’s with him instead. No, you couldn’t bear Max’s disappointment. Maybe you could tell Max you had a time constraint, even though you knew she hated those when it came to her skating days. Was there any other plans you could abandon? Anyone else you could bear to let down for the sake of not leaving Eddie high and dry? No, no – all your other weekend plans involved going to the movies with Robin, helping Steve look into colleges finally, taking the boys to the Starcourt mall to shop for supplies to make figurines for their newest campaign. The room was suddenly getting smaller, your chest constricting, your head spinning. You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing any of those people, no, but what about Eddie? Maybe he was right in feeling neglected, maybe you deserved whatever guilt was to come from whatever his next words would be. He was your friend, you were supposed to make time for h-

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed over the line, and you swore you heart stopped right then and there, “You’re the highest thing in demand since Cabbage Patch Kids last Christmas – and trust me, I should know how in demand those fuckers were. I worked seasonally at the mall, remember?” 

Your breath caught. He was feeling neglected. You weakly began your apology as tears were already filling your eyes, that panic turning over itself in your gut, “I’m-”

“And it’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong,” It’s clear your voice had been too soft, too weak, for him to hear you, “Just means I’ve gotta fight harder to be worth your time, am I right?” 

You had to clear your throat, but it did nothing to subsidize that anxiety that rattled your bones. It’s blatantly evident as your voice shook with a second attempt at an apology, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean- I can… I’ll… Just tell me when for Benny’s. I can make it work, I swear-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” 

He had to have heard the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. The shake of your breath as you’d stuttered over your words, grasping for a solution. 

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” his voice was soothing and soft, the most gentle it had been the entire night. You pinched your eyes shut and just tried to imagine those stupid, big doe eyes, those ungodly messy curls (you’d started to tease him about if he ever even brushed or combed them). The panic remained, but Eddie’s voice started to give it a run for its money, “I was just playing around. You know that, right?” he paused to give you room to answer, but your throat was still tightly squeezed by overwhelming emotion, overwhelming fear of having scorned Eddie, “You could only have enough time in your schedule to see me once a year, and I’d still be your friend. We could only have these random phone calls, even if they were never longer than a minute, and you’d still be worth it. You know that, right?” Another pause, another wave of silence from your end, “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.” 

Each word made the panic settle. You weren’t sure how he did it. You weren’t sure how mortified you should be that he had only been in your life for a month at most, and had just overheard you at your most vulnerable. 

All you were sure of was that you believed him. 

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling that ring of fear loosen, vocal chords finally functioning once more. 

“Okay,” Eddie repeated back in that same gentle, soothing, soft tone. 

You weren’t disappointing him. You weren’t making him feel neglected. He still found use for you, he still wanted you around – he still needed your friendship. That had to be enough.  

It was quiet over the line for a few moments. 

It has to be enough, you reminded yourself. 

“Say,” you finally said, voice back to normal strength and the tears having dried themselves up for the most part. Your heart had almost returned to normal rhythm, “How does Benny’s sound tonight?”

“Tonight?” he chimed back, sounding as excited as a little kid the morning of a cherished holiday, something like Christmas. 

A shiver ran down your spine. It’s not from the cold, and you tell yourself it’s not quite warmth – it can’t be warmth. 

“Tonight,” you confirmed, “With a detour by Family Video, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a special delivery of cookies to fulfill.” 

“What kind?”

“Excuse me?” 

You were grinning - God, you were a pathetic fool, grinning and clutching onto that phone like a lifeline. Like if you let go of it, you’d lose his voice, and if you lost his voice, that would be the end of the world. 

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He hummed, not answering right away as if he were deliberating this information. When he finally spoke again, another shiver wrapped around your spine, spinning down, down down. Waves of what you almost believed were warmth. “Okay. I suppose I can be your taxi driver, for a price.”

“What’s your price?” 

“One cookie.”

“Deal.”

It had to be enough, because you were still clutching that telephone tightly to your cheek, long after the phone call ended with Eddie’s promise of being at your house soon enough. It had to be enough, because after that night, it became clear; the world would not end with the loss of just Eddie’s voice from your life, but the loss of Eddie, period. It was the first night of many in which you played a very, very dangerous game. 

Even with Nancy gone, you felt restless. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer in all that self-pity, still replaying the night and all you could have done differently. 

Had she caught on with how out of it you had been? Had she seen through your act and immediately assumed the worst – assumed you weren’t worth keeping around? 

The thoughts might be an overreaction. 

You were definitely overreacting. 

You didn’t really care that you were overreacting, though, because you really couldn’t control it. It was just another dark path you couldn’t stop your mind from traveling down. It was endless, and it was lonesome, and… and it was just normal. What should be devolving into a panic attack can only settle like an emptiness deep within your chest; you’ve been staring at the blank wall of your living room for so long without blinking, your eyes have gone dry. 

A pattern. That’s what the therapist said. You had a pattern for overthinking these interactions, for projecting feelings onto others that didn’t exist. You think all your friends hate you, you think that a stranger found your smile to be more of a grimace, you think your mom hasn’t called in months because she recognizes you as a failure finally. But none of it is actually what those people think. It’s like a mirror – you look into the eyes of others, and you see all your own insecurities reflected back. 

She’d asked you to work on it. To take a step back and just breathe, just remind yourself of that, whenever this happens. You’d decide whether you’d mention this minor slip up later. For now, you were going to wallow. You were going to spiral with just you, this damn blank wall, and maybe even the bottle of wine in the fridge. 

Yes, your mind was made up, and you force yourself to stand from the couch and wander into the kitchen, eyes still dry and chest still caving in on itself as you open the fridge. 

That’s as far as you get. Your fridge is wide open, the bright luminescent light flooding your kitchen floor in time with the trickling chill that sneaks up on your warm cheeks and already numb toes, when you spot it. 

A box of takeout. It’s old enough now you could throw it out, you had known the moment he’d taken the last of his meal to-go that he wouldn’t finish it. Teased him about it, even. But he was stubborn and you weren’t capable of turning down the opportunity to let another piece of him, another flash of evidence of his place in your life, occupy this apartment. So there it sat, a half-eaten burger he hadn’t revisited. 

But he had revisited the apartment – revisited you. He’d been here every night this week, and you’d practically had to shove him out on the street to get him to leave this morning to get to work on time. 

The edges of that emptiness that weighs down your insides blur, already lightening microscopically as you slam shut the fridge and forgo the wine completely to grab the phone instead.

“You don’t have to always take care of everyone, you know,” he murmured as he joined you in the kitchen to retrieve popcorn for the gang, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie night. 

“Pardon?” you asked, hardly glancing over your shoulder as you punched in the designated time for the microwave to turn the kernels into an easy, mouth-watering snack of butter and crunch. 

“You always take care of everyone. You don’t have to.”

His words rang clearer that time, loud enough to have stopped you in your tracks. You paused mid-reach, the cabinet for the Harrington’s bowls wide open and shelves nearly too tall for you. 

“I-” you weren’t sure exactly what to say, “What do you mean?” 

His brows scrunched, eyes having narrowed in the slightest in your direction, “Please don’t play dumb right now.” 

“I’m not playing dumb. I’m trying to get popcorn for our movie night,” you waved your hand towards the shelves lined with bowls for emphasis on your point, “That’s not really taking care of everyone – it was just being polite. Steve’s hosting, it’s the least I can do.” 

“The least you can do? The least you can do is actually just sit with friends, enjoy the movie,” the crease between his brow deepened, eyeing you with an unfamiliar concern. You shifted beneath the weight of his gaze. 

You don’t know what to say. Except, “It’s not that serious.” 

He scoffed, and you nearly flinched from it. Fear threatened to bubble up – he’s upset, he’s getting irritated at you. He’s getting tired of you. 

You waited for him to say something more as the buzz of the microwave filled the tense space, but he remained silent. Brooding. 

“What?” your voice shook, your entire being torn between succumbing to all that fear and anxiety in upsetting him further and that voice in the back of your mind that urged you to push him, to hear what he really thought. “I know you have something more to say.” 

“In the six months I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single break for yourself.” 

He met your push, stood his ground and didn’t let it put any distance between you two. It felt like a goddamn revelation, right there in the Harrington kitchen. 

“I take plenty of breaks, Eddie,” you tried to laugh off, “I do spend time away from you all, hard as that may be to belie-”

“Hardly,” he cut you off as sharply as the first resonating pop that echoed from the microwave. 

“What’s your point? I just like being around you guys. Like I said, it’s not that serious.”

This was the part where the distance would happen. You kept pushing, took the inch he’d given you to bite back and ran with it. Normally, you avoided conflict with any of your friends vehemently. Always afraid, always assuming the relationships to be so fragile and so delicate. You would take such care in never giving them a reason to hate you that you’d never taken to a battleground before.

But there had been a look in Eddie’s eyes that night. A shine that, breaking through all the worry for you, whispered, fight with me. Stand your ground with me. I’ll still call you tomorrow, no matter what words we exchange tonight. 

A safety net had formed that you’d never even noticed. That delicacy wasn’t needed here. You could pick up the sword, there in that kitchen, and it wouldn’t turn Eddie to smoke and shadows. 

“My point is…” he paused, he swallowed hard, he exhibited the delicacy that was usually expected from you, “You can like being around us. But you should put yourself first. At least once. At least on movie night.” 

“How is me making popcorn not putting myself first?” you got the question out, you took a deep breath, ready to go on some sort of defensive tirade for your habit you were well aware of.

He beat you to it, “Every day last week, you only got three hours of sleep, at most, before your shifts. You gave up sleep to hang out with us all way too late, refused to throw in the towel and go home before anyone else.”

“I could have napped-” 

“You didn’t nap,” he stressed, taking a step closer to you. The popping of the snack turning in the microwave was erratic, mere seconds left on the timer. Static noise to the conversation at hand, “I know you didn’t fucking nap after your shifts because you were immediately running errands for everyone else, or hanging out again. You offered to give Robin a ride to work every single day, and her shifts start… what, an hour after yours ended? And then you had to give her rides home, right? But in those hours she was at work, you were helping Dustin with an essay for school – that little fucker told me all about it. You were awake when Johnathan called you and we were all stoned off our asses, went and got us food we didn’t need but still wanted. We didn’t even expect you to pick up, you know? I told them, I swore to them, you wouldn’t pick up. You had a morning shift. You were scheduled literal hours from when we called you. But you picked up. You fucking picked up, and you went and got the fucking food for us fucking idiots.”

Your brain completely malfunctioned. You couldn’t comprehend how he was saying all of these things that should be good things, things that proved you were needed and you were reliable, but with such venom in his tone. 

Anger had sparked within you as you pictured how giddy Dustin had been over the B he’d earned on his essay, that sincere appreciation on Robin’s face every time she left your car last week, the dopey grin that Argyle had worn when you’d arrived with their food order in your pajamas. All previously things to fuel you, filling that aching hole inside of you, now being tarnished because he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you seethed at him, “Would you prefer I hadn’t been awake? Would you prefer I let Dustin just… get a fucking F on that essay? Or Robin walks to work?” 

“Yes!” 

You were both shocked at the sudden volume in your voices. The quickness in his reply. The quiver in your lip. 

“Yes,” he breathed out, quieter this time, “I would prefer those things if it meant you were taking care of yourself. The word ‘no’ should be in your vocabulary, sweetheart. I… The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.”

But you all needing me might.

“Just… just…” your breaths came out in huffs, eyes downcast and unwilling to meet Eddie’s stare. A final push, and it came out more fragile than you’d ever intended, “Just mind your business, Eddie.” 

He opened his mouth to say more, but the microwave started to go off, signaling what you saw as the end of the conversation – the fight. You’d raised your voice at him, you’d swung that sword in his direction, and he hadn’t vanished. His friendship – he – wasn’t as breakable as you’d thought. 

You spun on your heel, you took the popcorn out and divided it into bowls for the group, busying your hands in any way possible. All the while, he never left the kitchen. He stood just feet away from you and let you do what needed to be done, and only stopped you as you turned to exit the kitchen with the snacks acquired. 

His hand caught onto your elbow, “You have bags.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You have bags under your eyes,” he elaborated. He no longer looked frustrated, but defeated, a morose distress pinching the edges of his feature.

“Jesus,” you were now scoffing, adjusting your grip on those bowls, “You really know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

“They’ve been there for months,” his grip refused to loosen, thumb trailing over the crease in your arm, “Please don’t run yourself into the ground.” 

You gave him a cold shoulder as you left him behind to rejoin your friends, unable to shake his consternation. It was so genuine, it terrified you. It made your insides churn, it turned your anxious attachment to dust. 

It made a shiver of warmth travel down your spine. 

The empty space beside you on the couch only remained for seconds after you’d passed around the bowls, keeping one for yourself. He was back there, back at your side, as if the two of you hadn’t just exited a battle ground. As if a stand-off hadn’t just occurred, as if it all hadn’t ended in a draw. 

He looked at you with those eyes.

Fight with me. Stand your ground with me. Don’t walk away from me. I will still call tomorrow.

He did more than call that night. As the movie started, he didn’t so much as flinch when your head fell to his shoulder in exhaustion. He only tucked an arm around your shoulders, only shifted you to be more comfortable as you used him as a personal pillow. He glared at everyone in warning not to grill you on the plot of the movie when you’d awoke mildly disappointed, he’d let you sleep on the drive home. He never once brought the fight back up. 

And he still called the next day. 

After your shift, he was the first voice you heard after dragging your feet into your apartment. A brief apology was exchanged before it was back to business as usual between you two. And somewhere between his rambles, you fell asleep with your phone balanced half-haphazardly between your cheek and shoulder. You could only dream of the grin he wore when he’d hear your soft snores over the line, quieting down immediately to let you rest. He never hung up – he was content to sit on a hushed line if only for the assuredness that you were finally resting. 

The warmth no longer traveled down your spine, instead curling up timidly near that hole inside of you. You let it. 

“Munson residence!”

That warmth that had found home in your chest still remains to this day, rousing at Eddie’s voice over the line. It’s nearly enough to make you cry – the relief that floods you just by the sound of him and his endless chipper. His optimism that always seems to exist, even in contrast with those harsh edges he tries to portray. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, as if you’re not the only one in your apartment, “Can you… Are you free?” 

Even after a year, you still sometimes felt guilt, asking so much of him. Asking so much, and giving so little in return. 

But you weren’t the one who set that standard. Eddie had. Ferociously, fiercely, stubbornly. The insistence that you simply being was enough for him. 

“For you, sweetness?” he chuckles lowly. He recognizes your voice immediately; you never have to say it’s you calling. You could have shrugged it off as Caller ID, but you knew the Munson’s phone didn’t have that. No, he recognized you by voice only. He’d once joked that only you would one day be able to rouse him from the dead, based on the ‘sweet melody alone’. Recognition in death – you had managed to burrow your way so deeply into his life, you’d earned recognition in death. “Always. What’s up?” 

You could have just kept him on the phone. Had one of your infamous conversations about everything and nothing. Sat on the cold tiles of your kitchen and smiled like a child as you listened to him rant. But the cold chill of your lonesome apartment was becoming suffocating, and you remembered that take out in the fridge and the way one of his socks had ended up in your laundry last week. You remembered how you started keeping his favorite brand of beer in your fridge and how one of your pillows started to permanently smell like his aftershave.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He had a key to your apartment. He had a space, here, in this lonesome apartment. And all you had to do was beckon to him, and he would come to fill it. Always. 

“Can you come over?” 

You don’t even have to explain yourself. He complies readily, whispers out a soft yes in the voice you’d also recognize even in death, and promises to be there within ten minutes. 

He makes it within eight. 

And you’re still leaning on your kitchen counter, your head still swimming dangerously with all the different ways you’d let down Nancy. Once upon a time, you might have worried about inviting him over, worried that your anxieties and your short-comings might bleed into your relationship with him. In the beginning, it had been simple enough. You kept him at an arm’s length away the moment you realized you couldn’t make yourself needed to him, not out of selfishness but out of fear. Fear, because if he didn’t need you, why would he stick around? 

Because without need, if you did the wrong thing, there was no necessary thread tying them to you. Because without need, there was no chance for the day that you might find love in your grave robbings, and you couldn’t handle the thought of someone like Eddie Munson deciding you weren’t worth his time. 

It hadn’t occurred to you for a very long time that maybe, possibly, you’d been going around the concept of love with a very wrong mindset. 

Your safe place. That’s what the back of the van had become over these sticky summer nights – your safest refuge. 

It was always the same scene; Eddie on his back beside you, lazily nursing a joint, while you sat up reading passages of the latest book you two had embarked on together. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was fantasy, and sometimes, it was just a reread. That night, it was a reread. The Hobbit. 

“‘I don’t see that this will help us much,’ said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. ‘I remember the mountain well-’” you recited off of the page, when Eddie suddenly sat up abruptly and snatched the book from you. 

“No, no, no!” he wagged his finger at you after he discarded his joint into the ashtray you’d made him start keeping in the fan, “Sweetheart, you’re doing the voices all wrong.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching to take the book back, “Not all of us have a Dungeon Master voice to whip out, Munson. Give it back.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Do I need to say please? I’ll say please.” 

It was best like this. Just the two of you, away from everyone else. Some nights, the two of you hadn’t even needed a book to bond over. You’d just gaze at stars, or indulge in whatever weed he’d brought along with him. He never pressured you, though – if you shook your head at his offer of the joint, that was that. He seemed to apply that to most aspects of your friendship this last year. 

You never had to prove anything to him. He saw your worth as if it were glaringly obvious, as if it were as simple of a concept as breathing. No extra effort needed from your end. 

Just by being, you had managed to become something important to him. He needed you, if only because you were you. 

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me,” he snorted, shifting so that his shoulder pressed against your own. A warmth spreads from the point of contact. “Let the master show you how it’s done.” 

You tried to not let it show, but your grin was radiant. He was the master at those ridiculous voices, at theatrics and at bringing the story to life. You were transported from the shore of Lover’s Lake, in the back of that stuffy yet comforting van, to meadows of soft grass and hobbit holes of comfort. To a place where all the threats were mythical and all the expectations of you were released. 

You’d spent the week helping Steve finish up his college plans. His parents had tried to pressure him into picking his top three universities, but the moment he had confided in you that he might prefer a community college to begin, you’d held his hand as you guided him through the process. A rewarding process, have no doubt, but it had left you numb and reeling. Sharing someone else’s stress, shouldering their burdens – it had been a bit much.

You needed this. You needed Eddie’s ridiculous voices and the sharp press of his shoulder against your temple. 

“Falling asleep on me already?” he teased when he’d noticed how quiet you had gone. 

“Never,” you lied through a yawn that quickly exposed you. 

“Liar,” he huffed. You didn’t even need to glance up to confirm the smile you knew he wore. “We can head back home, if you need. I know it’s getting late-”

“No,” you quickly sat up, effectively making yourself dizzy, “No, I- It’s fine. I’m awake. I swear.”

“It’s okay that you were falling asleep,” he was quick to reach out, to tug you back down to his side, wrapping his arm around you to press you even closer than before, “I just don’t want to keep Cinderella out past Midnight.” 

“It’s barely ten.” 

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he scowled as you pressed your grin against his t-shirt clad shoulder, “I’m serious, though. Do I need to take you home?”

“No, Eddie. I’m good.”

“Swear it? Swear you don’t have an early shift, or some… some obligation?” 

“No shifts, no obligations.” 

“And if I just kidnap you for the weekend? Am I going to have an angry mob at my doorstep, demanding your service?” 

You smiled wider at the thought. The idea of him hiding you away, letting you live in this reprieve for the entire weekend. It was a nice thought, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.” 

And so the two of you sat there like that for an hour more. Eddie coming up with ridiculous tones for the various characters, you slipping in and out of consciousness as his warmth stayed wrapped around him. You don’t even notice when the warmth he’d planted in you finally covers up that hole inside of you, not even missing the absence of that emptiness until Eddie went quiet.

In the silence, you noticed it. 

The gash you’d grown accustomed to, the hole that had become an extra limb for you. Vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

It was a sudden and terrifying realization. Everything in you urged you to jump up, to scramble around you to find the darkness again, like a comfort blanket you couldn’t stand to lose. You went against the instinct, though, and rose slowly from Eddie’s hold. 

In lieu of scrambling, you peered at Eddie curiously. “Hey, Eds. Can I ask you something?” 

He nodded sleepily, almost as drowsy as you. You’re shocked when he shifts and instead of pulling you back to him, he opted to lay his head in your lap. 

That hole was still gone. The weight of his head on your thighs, the feeling of his breath on your bare thigh. For a moment, you can’t breathe. 

You’re warm. Not uncomfortably so, but encapsulated with an internal warmth. Like a fever spreading, the ice in your spine that you had lived with for years had begun to thaw. 

“Why do you keep me around?” you whispered, still sitting stiffly, staring in awe down at the way he just nuzzled his face into your lap.

With his eyes still closed, face smooth from any worry from the question, he mumbled, “What do you mean?” 

You only hesitated due to the thought crossing your mind; what if you bringing this up reminds him? 

You thought back to the night in Harrington’s kitchen. The push and the pull, the bloody battle and the way he still called.

He was not as delicate as you took him for. 

“I- What do you get out of this?” you couldn’t figure out how to phrase it correctly. You knew what you got out of this, but what does he get? 

“Get out of what?” 

“Get out of keeping me around.”

His eyes finally opened, twisting in your lap so that he could stare up at you. “You say that as if you’re forcing me to be your friend.” 

I could be, that nagging voice in your mind whispered. You could very well be forcing him, and just be blinded because you were enjoying the summer of warmth that he carried with him too much to let him go. 

“You never let me do anything for you,” you sighed, fingers finding themselves tangled in his roots against better judgment. But you needed to touch him, to ground yourself, as you admitted this hard truth, “You do shit for me all the time. You drive all the way out to this lake just because I complain about everything being too much. You’ve started playing chauffeur for the kids to give me a break. Harrington said you even offered to look at college brochures with him. And…. And I’m not stupid, Eds,” your voice shook as you looked down at him, a sudden feeling of undeserving striking you in your chest, “You do so much for me lately. And you don’t ask for anything in return – you don’t let me do anything in return. Why?”

His smile twisted with a hint of sadness, and brown eyes met your gaze without so much as flinching, “Sweetheart, why do you think you have to repay me for that stuff?”

“I-”

“No, hear me out,” he reached up, taking your hand out of his hair and lacing his fingers with yours, slowly dragging it down to rest on his sternum, “I chose to do that stuff. And, yeah, maybe I was trying to take some of that shit off your plate. But you didn’t ask me to. I chose to. I wanted to do those things, do nice things for you, because you won’t let anyone else.” 

You bit back a scoff, “I let people do nice things for me-”

“You really don’t,” his hold on your hand tightened, “You really, really don’t. You constantly…. You just, you take care of everyone else, but you act afraid to let someone take care of you. People are allowed to take care of you, too, y’know? You should let them. They love you – they want to take care of you, just like you take care of them.” 

They love you. 

The air drained from your lungs in a slow, silent sigh. You waited a few minutes, but the oxygen never replenished as you tried to grasp his words. 

They love you. 

Why would they love me? 

“Why wouldn’t they love you, sweetheart?” Eddie looked more concerned now, suddenly prepared to sit up and remove his head for your lap. But his hand still held yours tightly, still clung to you, “You know they love you, right? God, you gotta know that. We all love you.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken the bitter thought out loud until he looked at you, utterly heartbroken, in complete disbelief. “I…”

No. I don’t know that. What have I done to deserve their love? 

“They need me, sure,” you started, narrowing your eyes at the breaks in the waves of Lover’s Lake, “I mean, I just try to make myself useful to them. It’s the least I can do when I… when they…” you struggled to get the words out. You saw that hole again, like a light at the end of the tunnel, but so far from the relief most mean by that metaphor. Something peeking around the corner, ready to devour you all over again. So you plunged, you prepared yourself for it to spring to life and take you whole as you nearly whimpered, “When they put up with me. It’s the least I can do when they put up with me.” 

“No one puts up with you,” Eddie’s voice cracked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Least of all me.” 

The deadliest of blows. He cracked your hardened surface with that, shook the foundations of every belief you’d held for eternity. 

“Most of all you,” you corrected without thinking, “God, I- Eddie, seriously. What reason do you have for keeping me around? I don’t know how the fuck you put up with m-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you’d never heard him beg so painfully before then, “Please. Don’t… You want to know my reason?” you nodded numbly, finally looking to find him with wet eyes and lips pressed into a fine line, “Because you’re you. I… Fuck, I love you. I keep you around because you’re you. You’re good for me. Whether you believe it or not. You’re good for me just by being you, and there’s nothing you have to do to accomplish that,” you started to look away before he grabbed your cheeks, turning you to face him as he emphasized each word, “You don’t have to earn love. That’s not what love is. Got it?” 

You looked into his eyes, and saw all the soft declarations of love echoed back to you, even from the very start. 

‘Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.’

‘The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.’

The entire time you’d been so worried about taking care of everyone else, he’d been worried about taking care of you. Endless late night phone calls, careful check-ins when he saw the exhaustion take the frontlines, sparse fights about putting yourself first. The only thing he ever wanted from you was for you to take care of yourself. 

While you were busy being there for everyone else, he was busy being there for you. 

He never once made you dig to the bottom of his grave to find the warmth. He’d handed it over on a silver platter. 

So how could you look him in his at that moment, and tell him that you didn’t ‘get it’? That you’d never been sure if what you were seeking from your friends was really love? That, really, you’d given up on being loved a long time ago, assuming it was asking too much? 

How do you look him in his eyes in that moment and tell him you had long since declared yourself unlovable? 

He didn’t make you say it. Only kept your cheeks pressed between his palms, as he leaned forward, forehead meeting yours and whispering words for only you, “I love you, no strings attached. You’re my… friend. I love you. Okay?”  

No one had ever fought so valiantly to get the point across. Not just that night at the lake, but in the entirety of his friendship with you. 

The hole slinked back behind the corner. The darkness decided it could wait another day. And in its place, warm brown eyes filled the void. Whether he even realized it or not. 

You nearly believed him. Nearly. But you bit down hard on that belief, throwing it out of sight, and instead of echoing back the ‘okay’ you assumed he was seeking out, all you did was sob out another, “Why?” 

When you collapsed into him, he held you. Your sobs remained dry, your confusion palpable as you clung to him and tried to let that belief envelope you like his arms had. 

I love you. 

How could someone love you? 

He didn’t press it the way you thought he would. He didn’t scold you for continuing to question him and he didn’t lash out at your disbelief. 

He just held you. Letting your face press into his neck as his fingers ran up and down your spine, giving it a moment before he started talking again. 

“Your humor,” he hummed after a couple moments of silence, heavy breathing eventually evening out. 

“What?”

“The way you take care of others,” he continued on like he hadn’t heard you, “That spark you get in your eyes when you tell someone about something good. A favorite book, movie, story from your day – whatever it is. The way you give the best hugs – and you don’t give me them nearly often enough. The way you snore, and the way you definitely deny snoring.” 

You opened your mouth, about to lift your head and argue with him, but he just placed an encouraging palm on the back of your head to keep you close to him. 

“The way your favorite color changes with the seasons. The way you only like artificial cherry flavoring, not the real stuff. The way you look at night when we’re driving and you’re just screaming your favorite lyrics. The way you look at me to see if a joke lands. The way you fuss about my wrinkled clothes, even when you also don’t care about the wrinkles in your own shirts. The way you take your coffee. The way you always offer to paint one of my nails to match yours. The way you treat your recipe for chocolate chip cookies like some top secret, government trade. But we both know it’s just some recipe from a cookbook you thrifted when you were ten. The way you get excited over the small things, like the cows we pass by on the way out here. They're always there, and you always point them out. The way you just… are.” 

He didn’t have to say it. He was answering your question. 

He was listing his whys. 

“You don’t have to earn it,” he didn’t say the word, not this time. You felt it, “It just… it’s there. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.” 

Loved. For the first time ever, it felt like a possibility; to be loved. 

Eddie always knocks on your front door a certain way – a pattern he rarely strays from. But you can always tell. He’s the only fool who would find humor in knocking out such an annoying compilation of hits on the wooden panels until you finally unlatch the lock and open it to find him standing in your threshold. 

His hair is frizzy and in a low ponytail, wearing a baggy band shirt and plaid pajama pants. He greets you with such a wide smile, your chest aches. 

“Hey there, sweetness.” 

You don’t say a word, just drag him inside before you wrap your arms around his waist. Ever since that night, and his admittance of enjoying your hugs, you made a conscious effort to hug him more often. 

“Miss me?” he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek as you softly pinch his side. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him only laugh harder once you pull away. 

“Not at all,” you snark back as you make sure the door is securely shut and properly locked.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.” 

He smacks a fist to his chest as if you had stabbed him with your words, “Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.” 

“Get over it,” you tease. Your head has finally stopped swimming, your chest no longer tight with the fear of not being enough. Nancy is long forgotten as you say, “Have you eaten dinner?” 

“Depends,” he hums as he toes off his boots, “If you’re offering to buy me some, then no, I definitely did not eat spaghetti with Wayne right before you called.” 

You throw your head back laughing as he’s already making a beeline for your kitchen, digging out that damned takeout menu and reaching for the phone, already so sure of your order.

Knowing your order at restaurants. Without having to ask. Apparently, that was part of the whole ‘being loved’ gig. 

Adjusting has taken months. Since that night in Eddie’s van, he’d kept his word. Not a day went by without him finding a way to remind you, whether it be by direct words or small actions, that he loved you. You both kept it under that friendly guise. He loved you in that familiar way, the way the others supposedly loved you. A way you could manage to recognize some days. 

Other days were still rough. Days like today were still rough. 

The takeout is ordered and Eddie sets up camp on your couch, rambling about something that had happened during one of the DnD nights he still hosted with the kids. Something about a dumb decision Mike did that cost most of the group their character’s lives. You have a hard time following along, and he’s quick to pick up on it. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you lean into the back couch cushion, smooshing your cheek as you watched him animatedly speak.

“Hm?”

“Bad day?” 

He never judged you for the rough days. He never judged you for the days you still couldn’t find the love, even after he worked so virtuously to show it to you. He may never understand it, that hollow ache that resided in your darkest corners and whispered that none of it was real, but it never deterred him.

He loved you on good days, and he especially loved you on bad days. 

You consider lying to him, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you so earnestly, “Yeah. It… yeah.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks you, shuffling to be more comfortable where he sits as he motions for you to lay down. You do so immediately, head finding a home against his thigh and his fingers stroking over your cheek before they toy with the ends of your hair. 

All you can do is shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about that fear of failing Nancy as a friend, especially when you know that wasn’t her take away from it. It felt silly now; all that overthinking, when you know now if you questioned her on it, all she would have seen from the day was a friend lending a caring ear. You know because you had asked her about it once, if she found your listening habits too callous, upon Eddie’s insistence. 

She hadn’t. In fact, all she could do was thank you, had insisted that she was just grateful someone would listen to her ramblings. And you understood that, left it at that. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, voice so quiet you nearly miss it. His fingers continue to play across your shoulders now, barely weighted against bare skin, “That’s fine.” 

He didn’t mind if you didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t mind if you never spoke another word, if all you needed was him here. You just needed him close by and to sit with you, to make it all a little less much. 

Nothing. He needed absolutely nothing from you, asked nothing of you. Because you didn’t have to earn this. All you had to do was simply be, and he would provide this. 

Love. What an odd concept, to have found warmth in a grave you never even got the chance to dig your shovel into. 

“Hey, Eddie?” his fingers pause at your croaking voice. You smile at his stillness, at the way he hums carefully in response, still trying to offer the silence you quietly begged for, “I love you.” 

There’s more to unpack there. More than just familial love, more than just two friends that love each other without conditions. But tonight is not the night, and you both see that it is enough. There will be other nights to dig your claws in and to dissect what those three little words mean between you two. There will be other nights to consider how your other friends don’t have a permanent spare toothbrush on your bathroom counter or a space for their takeout in your fridge. But not tonight.

For tonight, this was enough. The quiet, and the warmth, the being was enough. 

“I love you,” he emphasizes the last word, leaning down and his lips grazing your temple. 

You notice the way he leaves off the too. He’d love you, even if you didn’t love him. You’d love him, even if he didn’t love you. Unconditional, no strings attached. A warmth you do not have to fight to earn. A rarity you never encountered before, and may never encounter again, but you have for tonight and for as long as he chooses to stick around. 

Your shovel sits abandoned in a shed in the distance. Your fingernails are clean of the dirt. The graveyard, it seems, would go another night without its robber. 

[dilfsfordinner]

Levi never had a problem with being alone with his baby, he actually enjoyed it. Sure, some sticky situations made him frustrated, but he really did love watching over the toddler, even if that meant multi-tasking.

You’d gone to the nearest market to pick up some much needed supplies (diaper cloth, soap, any baby item you could think of, etc. etc.), leaving your husband to a very rowdy child. “Don’t run in the house,” he voiced over his shoulder, the sound of your daughter’s feet stamping the ground behind him filling his ears, his hands too occupied chopping up vegetables for dinner to grab the little demon.

Although she was only a month over two, she was the most energetic being in the household. Learning to walk was one thing, but once she learned that her little legs were capable of going even faster, she found it her duty to do it everywhere. The nursery before bedtime; the dining room during lunch; the bathroom before a bath; and now, in the kitchen, before dinner.

A blow was dealt to the back of his leg, right to his calf, a slew of giggles flowing from her mouth as he turned to look down, a very joyous monster flushed from the face down smiling up at him. “You’re it, daddy!” she squealed, feet scurrying off to run in circles around the kitchen island, toes elaborately avoiding every forgotten toy strewn across the floor.

“Y/d/n-,” Levi warned, voice stern and eyebrows raising, “You’re going to get hurt.” As if she was just plain ignoring him, the words didn’t affect her, little feet continuing their journey around the kitchen, Levi sighing as he returned to his chopping, the water on the stove soon coming to a boil.

Just as he was about to pour the veggies into the rolling broth, a thump resounded throughout the room, silence following. Whipping around, Levi found his daughter face-first on the hard ground, face lifting up to look at him, mouth parting in a cry that rivaled that of a banshee.

Striding toward her sobbing form, his fingers hitched under her armpits, scooping her into his arms as her legs straddled his torso. Setting her down on the counter, Levi bent to take in her injuries, his fingers delicately tracing her now very red nose, a drop of blood trickling from her nostril. Tutting, he quickly wet a towel, dabbing the soft cloth at her face, little sniffles muffled by his movements.

“What did I say?” Levi questioned, his voice stern as she looked away out of guilt, silent tears now collecting at the base of her jaw. She didn’t want to admit to being wrong apparently, her face turned defiantly away from his own, lip quivering and cheeks red. “Hey-” his hand gently grasped her chin, pulling her attention back, “-you need to listen to me, okay.? If you had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Do you understand me?”

Nodding her head gently, more tears slipped down her face, her mouth opening back up to release more cries, little arms reaching out to your husband. Tsking, Levi pulled her into his chest, her hands wrapped around his neck as tears stained his shirt. “I- I’m s-sorry,” she hiccuped, Levi’s mouth turning up into a soft smile at her words, hands gently rubbing soothing circles into her back.

“My girl..” he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head, “..always so stubborn.” Holding her in one arm, Levi made his way to the freezer box, grabbing an ice pack and gently holding it to her nose, her little fingers grasping onto it to hold it for herself.

You were to be home any minute now, your daughter’s duty being to watch the door for you, hold the ice pack, and no running, and then dinner. Sure, Levi loved watching her alone, but as soon as your voice filled the entryway, he felt instantly relieved, your ability to tame your daughter much better than his own, especially when it came to her zoomies.

[thehypnone]

I think I need you to elaborate on this point. Because … I know some things the body is capable of. Give me the rain self-fucking. I’m sorry I’ll see myself out.

Rain has a pretty cock.

Decent girth, proportionate head, slight curve upwards when hard. Most importantly, it’s long.

Long enough for Dewdrop’s most recent fantasy to be doable.

The water ghoul’s thighs burn under Dewdrop’s touch as he’s holding his legs up. Rain is on his back with the other kneeling at the foot of the bed to watch his…struggle.

It’s doable but not that easy.

It would be, if only Dewdrop would allow him to unglamor and play like this with his tentacle, not the human-looking cock he’s currently sporting.

“C’mon, push on it a little more,” the fire ghoul encourages. Rain grunts and tries, Lucifer knows he does, but the head of his dick is so wet from all the pre he’s leaking it keeps slipping away from his equally drippy hole.

“I can’t–can’t, droplet, fuck,” he pants; sensitive and desperate. Dewdrop fingered him open half an hour ago and since then he’s been helplessly pawing at himself, trying to get his own cock into his own ass.

It’s insane.

Dewdrop won’t let it go, though, so Rain doesn’t plan on it either.

“Help me, baby, please,” the water ghoul begs. Dewdrop sighs, shaking his head as he pretends to be annoyed, but he does swat the other’s hands away. Rain’s cock springs back up and he lets out a soft moan as it hits his stomach.

“Hold ‘em up,” Dewdrop instructs as he lets go of Rain’s legs. The water ghoul obeys and spreads himself even wider than Dewdrop had him. He hums in approval and slides down to lay on his stomach with his face right in Rain’s crotch.

The fire ghoul leans even closer to nuzzle his face against Rain’s sack and deliver a few kitten licks to the seam of it, making his mate cry out. “Oh, fuck…”

“So pretty everywhere, angelfish,” he sighs before trailing his tongue further down. He teases the appendage around Rain’s rim, licking up all the slick he’s been drooling out. 

Dewdrop grabs the water ghoul’s cock in a hot hand and bends it down to take the head into his mouth. Rain’s entire body tenses up and his jaw aches from how hard he’s clenching his teeth.

“Can’t be–” Dewdrop says between gentle sucks on the tip, “too slippery.”

“Uh-huh,” Rain replies intelligently. The fire ghoul smirks against his cock and pulls away. “Please, baby, gotta–gotta cum…”

“I’m on it, Rainy,” he giggles and shuffles back a little to have more space to work. Rain dares to look down between his legs and all he sees is determination in Dewdrop’s eyes. He's not sure if it excites or scares him more.

The fire ghoul is surprisingly gentle when he pulls Rain’s balls to the side and angles his cock even further down. All the technical touching not focused on pleasuring him in the slightest drives Rain crazy and he knows he’s going to blow the second Dewdrop makes the head of his dick pop inside.

He bites his bottom lip as Dewdrop pets down the length of his shaft and guides it to his hole. Rain is holding his legs spread so wide his muscles burn but it’s all going to be worth it, he supposes. His fire ghoul will soothe all his aches after this.

“Nearly there,” Dewdrop reports. “Gotta help your little hole a little bit.”

Rain chokes on a moan at the words but can’t hold it back when Dewdrop hooks two fingers on his rim and pulls to open him up for his own cock. He presses down with his other hand and the water ghoul’s mind goes blank as the head of his dick slots inside.

He can feel his own hole squeezing his own dick.

Rain begins to babble incoherently and Dewdrop only grins with pride.

“Come on now, fish boy, gimme my treat,” he mutters, running his callused fingers down the stretched skin of Rain’s arched cock. The water ghoul grunts and groans and just a few more touches on his sensitive flesh send him flying over the edge.

Dewdrop holds his cock down, lest it slip out as it shoots. He flops back down onto his front and brings his face to where Rain is cumming into himself; a few drops leak out and the fire ghoul wastes no time, licking it right up.

He thinks he’d like to really lick Rain clean.

[hwanchaesong]

Folklore: A Trilogy (August) Teaser

Childhood friend!Jake X F!Reader

Synopsis: Ever since you left home to pursue the city life, you really did think that everything was over. Then you returned, and you still see him there. Will something rekindle and burn inside you once more?

word count: tba

genre & warnings: fluff, smut, angst, other warnings tba when the full fic is out

a/n: this is a part of Folklore: A Trilogy, where the first part is about Jake. i made a playlist for this and i'll probably post that along with the full fic. for now, please enjoy the teaser. lemme know if y'all wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

"Y/N! Wait up, please, let me explain!"

You were well aware of Jake's pleads which made you walk faster, unfortunately, races like this meant that the one who has the longer limbs wins, and that wasn't you.

Jake caught up to you in no time, forcefully pulling you into his arms and enveloping you into a tight embrace, not letting you go even if you fight and hit him, accepting all of the profanities that you throw at him, he deserves that much.

It feels like you're in some k-drama. Getting back hugged by your childhood friend in a place where people are nowhere to be found, the skies turning into shades of gray and black, and frankly, you're getting tired of struggling knowing that you already lost the fight since he's so much stronger than you.

When he felt you go limp in his hold, he slowly turned you around so that he could examine you properly, a miscalculation on his part because seeing you in such a defeated state made him want to bury himself six feet under the ground until he's sure that he's paid the damages he had caused you.

"Y/N, please just one chance," he cupped your face, peering at you with such beseech, "please hear me out."

When you didn't speak, he took that as a chance to elaborate his case.

"I know it's wrong of me to interact with her, but she suddenly sat down in front of me. She caught me off guard and I was about to tell her off."

You let out a scornful laugh, pushing him away from you, "Oh so you're saying that she's about to leave?"

He nodded, hope skirting his features but you wiped it all off with your next sentence, "Then how do you explain that wide smile you have while talking to her, huh?!"

"Come on, Y/N, it was fake. I had to d-"

You raised a hand to stop him from saying more, having heard enough of his bullshit for the day, "Cut the crap, Jake, just- give me some time to think about.. t-this." your voice cracked in the middle and the sound reverberated through Jake's heart.

Watching you turn your back away was the hardest shit that Jake has to endure, especially since you're only a hair's breadth from his grasp.

Jake runs his hands over his face, attempting to rub the moisture away.

He has to fix this- No, he will fucking fix this even if it means that he has to go from heaven to hell.

You went home with a heavy feeling in your chest, ignoring the questions from your family and skipping dinner, (which is a big deal because your mother cooked your favorite food) since you don't have the appetite to join them for a delicious meal. You're tired, and all you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep in the comforts of your mattress.

You dropped your body in the cotton sheets after washing up, dressing yourself in a simple tee and shorts.

A stuck gum in your precious, long hair that had caused you to cut it short, which made your classmates call you a tomboy.

It was eerily quiet, then the horrid memories that you buried in the back of your head started to swim back into the surface, your hands automatically went to your hair, gripping it hard as you choked back a sob.

Your artwork that was destroyed because this jealous girl just had to spray some black paint on it, causing you to lose a painting competition.

That one time when you had a crush on this guy named Soobin, but then he rejected you when you confessed because a certain someone made rumors about you wanting to have sex with him wherein reality, you only wanted to have a date with him.

You remembered being called to the principal's office because you were accused of cheating during finals, which you never did but for some reason, 'evidence' of your wrongdoings appeared, and you lost the chance to become the class valedictorian.

The root of all these shitty things that you experienced: Kim fucking Chaewon.

All the pent up humiliation and anger were released, the thought of Jake, the person who was supposed to be your shield from the chaos being involved with the person that you disliked, no, hate the most is killing you inside and out.

You sniffed, shutting your eyes and letting the tears flow freely as you clutched your pillow close to your chest. How you wished for your boyfriend to save you from this dark hole that swallowed you once more.

"Sunghoon, I need you here please."

---------------------------------------------------

You were rudely awakened by the repeated taps on the glass, a suspicious silhouette moving around the see-through curtain. You sit up, quietly grabbing a lamp on the bedside table and tiptoeing towards the window, you slightly jumped when the shadow knocked again.

You took a deep breath, raising the lamp on your left hand and slowly pulling the curtains to the side. You yelped when you were met with Jake's face pressed onto the glass of the window, clad in an all black outfit and you had to physically stop yourself from laughing with how hysterical he looks.

"Jake?! What the fuck?!" you whisper-yelled, putting the lamp down on your dresser and quickly unlocking the window, ushering him to get in before someone sees him and calls the police.

"What are you doing here?! And in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea that people might t-"

Yes, because life is not that easy and clichéd that a tree would be conveniently placed right in front of your window on the second floor of your home. Jake has to work for it.

"I have ice cream. You didn't get to eat yours today." he shoves a plastic bag in your face, effectively cutting you off as he huffs and puffs, probably out of breath since he had to climb the tree behind your house and go over the roof so he could sneak into your bedroom.

"I don't want it." you uttered, trudging towards your door and opening it, nudging your head downstairs, "Please leave, I'll be nice enough to escort you out."

You weren't looking at him, you don't have it in you to take him in because you're weak. You're not strong enough to stay mad at him, you know that one gaze into his starry eyes and you're gone, and you couldn't afford to do that.

Still, you should've checked at least once because hearing the plastic being dropped on some furniture and his incoming footsteps made you assume that he's done, that he's leaving, which was not the case.

A surprised gasp left you when Jake's hand grasped yours that was holding the knob, closing the door with a slight thud and he easily towers over you. An uncharacteristic intensity in his usually warm orbs made your knees buckle, your heart rate speeding up when you realized that his masculine body has you trapped. Most importantly, his musky perfume makes you dizzy, clouding your ability to make sound judgement.

"I came here to see you, so no, I'll politely decline the offer of me leaving so soon." he murmurs, his hot breath cascading down your cheeks, and you got even more flustered when his free hand gripped your chin, leniently guiding your vision towards him.

"Please, Y/N, baby. Will you let me explain what happened earlier?" he rasps, earnestly peeking into your own eyes as he searches for an answer that he desperately needed.

You'll blame his perfume, his minty breath, his insanely attractive voice, and the sudden romantic ambience of the room. You'll inculpate anything at this point except your fragile self, because is it supposed to be your fault if Jake has the ability to render you defenseless against his overwhelming power over you?

A shaky sigh escapes you, nodding your head absentmindedly. The petname surely haa an effect on you, to which you could only describe as a whole circus playing around your whole nervous system.

"Jake.."

"There is nothing going on between me and that bitch, okay? I only care about you," he pulls your interconnected hands from the knob, bringing it to his lips and gently pecks your knuckles, "I'll drop anything just to be by your side, you know that right?"

"Please baby, I'm so sorry. I will never get in touch with her ever again. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't- I hate it when you cry, I hate it when you're sad. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me show you how much you mean to me."

You're not an impulsive person, as you'd like to believe, you tend to think first before doing something that you might regret in the future, but as of now, none of that matters.

For the first time in your life, you took the initiative, connecting your lips with Jake's, pouring all of your emotions in one emotional kiss. He wasted no time in returning it, turning his face sideways to deepen the liplock.

Jake was brought back to reality when he felt you suck on his lower lip, opening his eyes in a haste and pulling away from you.

So this is what it felt like to kiss your plush, glossy lips. This is what it felt like to hold you in a way that is more than just some fucking friends.

This is what feels like to have you. Intoxicating, addicting, and astronomically out of his wildest dreams.

"I don't think we should d-" he starts, but you hushed him by placing your index finger above his lips.

This is.. wrong. You are in a relationship, right? You two shouldn't be doing this.

"Jake," you whisper his name with such mirth, "show me how much I mean to you.. please."

That was the last thing Jake needed, throwing out whatever rationality remaining in his brain in exchange for the yearning that he desired for so many years.

He groaned when you willingly opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in, licking every corner of your cavern. You let his wet appendage graze your teeth before moving your own to clash with his. Both are battling for dominance in this wild exchange of saliva which he easily won, and you couldn't keep your moans at bay when he sucked on your tongue.

Pressing his lips into yours once more, a heated make-out ensues with him leading the way, wrapping his arms around your waist and compressing you between his body and the door, wanting to lessen the distance. He wanted more, he needed more, and he sure as hell will make the most out of this.

He'll act as a clueless villain if it means that he'll be able to steal the most precious gemstone that's already owned by someone.

But who fucking cares?

How could one say that it's wrong when everything feels so right? No one is qualified to dictate shit when the pieces of the shattered past are starting to recollect themselves, turning into a masterpiece called a forbidden tryst.

"Keep it down baby, don't want your parents to barge in here don't we?" he muttered against your lips, head moving to your clavicle and you instinctively craned your neck to the side, giving him the permission to paint you with the most colorful hues of blue and purple.

Jake breathes through his nose, inhaling your rousing vanilla and strawberry fragrance. This is what he's ever dreamed of. You, in his arms, being able to mark you as his and only his.

One rainy day, he woke up only to realize that he wanted to be the man to make you happy. He wanted to cook meals with you, travel around the world, take candid photos of you and set it as his wallpaper. He wanted to be the person that you'll meet at the end of the church isle.

He couldn't exactly recall when it all started.

Was it when you cried over that dimpled man back during 8th grade? Or was it when he saw you in your ball gown for prom? He has no idea, but he does know that he's prepared to give and let go of everything just for you.

Jake clutches on your waist even tighter, nuzzling his nose in the nook of your neck and leaving feathery kisses up to your mastoid. He smiled when he heard you giggle, biting your ear lobe teasingly, "Still ticklish I see."

You poked his side in retaliation, making him jump and shriek a bit, "So are you."

"Why you little-!" Jake carried you like a sack of potatoes, dropping you on the cushions haphazardly yet you felt his palm on the back of your head, acting as an insulation so the impact won't hurt you.

"You'll be sorry for that." he says with a smirk, wedging himself in between your legs, and before you could reply, he kissed you deeply, proceeding to attack your neck with pecks and bites, sucking in the spot that had you gripping his hair.

His hand started to explore your body, tracing your shape and going inside your shirt, stopping right under your boobs. Jake lifted himself off, his eyes speaking for himself, silently asking you if it's alright to remove your clothes.

You nodded and started peeling off the shirt, the fabric getting comically stuck on your forehead (that's what you get for wearing clothes from your junior high days). You both laughed at the witless situation, and despite all that, you felt him help you out of the predicament but not without leaving a kiss on the exposed lower half of your face.

When the shirt is finally out of the way, you hastily remove your shorts as well, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties because yes, you did not put on a bra, finding it ridiculous to wear one inside your own house.

You suddenly felt conscious when you noticed that Jake was unmoving and you found yourself covering your upper body, a movement that made the boy snap out of his daze.

"No, baby don't cover up," he grins sweetly at you, gulping down his nerves, "sorry, you're gorgeous, I can't help but admire."

You bit your lower lip, glancing at him and tugging at his own clothes, "Then be fair, give me something to admire too." you shyly said, avoiding eye contact when you saw him grin.

Jake instantly shrugged every piece of his attire, baring his all to you, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets because what the hell?

Of course you knew he was well built, his fitted outfits leave nothing to the imagination at times, but fuck you to the moon and back, you did not expect him to be this muscular. He has abs! For goodness sake, you weren't prepared, and it shows since Jake has to boop you in the nose to get you out of your daydream.

"I know the view is amazing," he gently laid you down, positioning himself on top of you, "but tonight is all about you, darling."

He pulled you in for another solid minute of make-out session, this time though, he touches you with more fervor. Snaking his hand on your chest, gripping your left boob and lowering his head down to give the other the rightful attention it deserves.

You moaned his name when he suckled on your nipple, tongue circling around the areola and occasionally biting to add more to the sensation. He used his fingers to twitch and pull on the other nipple, his other hand trailing over your stomach, down to the navel until it reaches your heat. He experimentally dipped a finger, gathering your juices and groaning at how wet you are for him.

"Baby, you're dripping and I've only done the bare minimum." he mutters, releasing your nipple with a pop and staring down at you with desire written all over his features, "You really want me that bad?"

"Yes Jake," you answered without any hint of doubt, "I want you god, please, do something." you begged, and who was he to say no to his beautiful baby.

"Your wish is my command, princess." he grinned, going into full action as he slid down, coming face to face with your core.

Princess.

You weren't able to delve deeper into your thoughts when you felt a finger inside your pussy, a warm mouth lapping at your wetness and sucking on your clit harshly. Your back arches when another digit goes inside you, going at a moderate yet wonderful pace every time it curls and hits a spot that had you curling your toes.

There was only one person who called you that. It should hit you by now that this is taboo... but it's just one night.

After this, you'll move on and act like nothing happened. Isn't it?

"Right there!" you moaned, getting closer to your orgasm, Jake sensing this made adjustments to his ministrations, basically going into feral mode. His deft fingers pumped in and out of you vigorously, his sucking, add to that the small nips in your bundle of nerves are getting too much for you to handle.

"Cum for me." he uttered, and the mini encouragement and vibration from his voice had you undone within a few seconds. Gushing into his face which he happily guzzled on, not stopping until you told him to stop, sensitive from the overstimulation.

He went up to your face and you could see the shiny slick on his lips, "That felt good?"

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue, "Very much, but what about you?"

"Baby, didn't I tell you that tonight's all about you?" he shakes his head, using his own limbs to spread your thighs open, allowing him to slot himself in the middle, goosebumps raising on your skin when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing him closer to your soaking cunt. "Take me, Jake."

You really have a way with words or maybe you have this effect on him like magic, whenever you talk, all he could think about is making you his.

Inch by inch, he inserted his big, fat cock inside you and you know, because you feel it. The way he stretches you out just the right way, the vein on the side of his dick pulses every time you clenched on him, and when he finally bottomed in, you both let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

Jake grits his teeth, putting the tip in and he thinks he's crazy because it's just the head but your pussy is sucking him all in and it almost made him cum.

He calmed himself down, if he's intending to pleasure you as much as he could, he's sure as hell to make himself last longer than usual.

He lets you adjust to his length, taking in a slow pace when you whispered for him to move. Gently rocking his hips onto yours, making sure that he wasn't hurting you in any sort.

Then you begged for him to move faster, harder, truly, you're making this more difficult than it's supposed to be. He could hardly contain himself, but the more you egged him on, the more he lets loose.

"Ah!" you cried out when Jake lets a rather ruthless thrust, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously and it was getting him drunk off of you. He got a taste of you, and it'll be difficult to stop. He rammed into you mercilessly, the creaking of the bed was the least of your concerns now as you're more focused on the delightful feeling he's giving you, unconsciously scratching his back.

Your warm, wet walls hugged his cock so nicely that it made him believe that your pussy is made for him. Truly, every time he pushes in, you get tighter and it feels like paradise.

Jake hisses at the pain, but it motivated him to no end, knowing that you love what he's doing to you right now.

Knowing that the reason you're acting like this is because he's doing you, as of the moment.

Nothing matters but the hushed moans of his name on your lips, he doesn't care about anything other than how good you feel.

You weren't in a good condition either, you're losing grasp of what's real, drooling mindlessly at the delight you're receiving. The man on top of you gives it his all, fucking you with all his strength as his length hits all the perfect spots inside you, making your eyes roll and see stars at the back of your brain.

Jake really tried to hold on, but your sudden release made your walls squeeze his cock, a low groan coming out of him as he cursed and complimented you on how well you're doing for him.

"Baby, I'm close." he warned you, sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down to your cheeks, and he finds it so hot when you darted your tongue out to lick the salty substance away.

"Inside, Jake. Please come inside me."

"Are you sure?" he slowed down a bit, peering into your eyes for confirmation.

Then you cupped his face, smiling at him lovingly, "Yes, I trust you."

That was all it took for him to release his seed inside you, thrusting shallowly to ride out his high until he collapsed on top of you, rolling over and slipping out of your walls when you halfheartedly complained about how heavy he is.

He finally did it.

Jake felt like a champion, one chance was enough for him and he's thanking all of the deities out there internally for giving him the opportunity to show you the love he's been meaning to shower you with.

He felt his body stiffen when you laid your head on his chest, telling him to stay, but what terrified him the most was when he listened to your request and naturally wrapped his arms around you.

Jake focused on you, combing your hair using his fingers as he watches you drift into dreamland.

You look ethereal like this, glowing under the dim light of the street lamps outside and how he wishes for you to continue being with him like this until you're grey and old.

He'll slip out of bed later, (couldn't risk getting caught by your family in the morning), and write you a note to make sure that you won't feel like shit when you wake up. For now, he'll relish in the blanket of your warmth and even breathing.

The boy sighs, his hand moving to your back, fingers lightly tracing his name over your smooth skin,

'J A K E '

---------------------------------------------------

taglist

@deobitifull

[bunnakit]

last twilight episode 6 thoughts, feelings, etc.

it's that time again and i've decided to be very extra for this episode because, well, it deserves it. what a ride that was. fair warning i was feeling fucking romantic and wistful for this.

we have August showing up, trying to integrate himself into their daily routine, and then disrupting that routine entirely. and when he suggests running with Day Mhok seems defensive, jealous and probably concerned that August has seemed unreliable before - and currently is operating with more information than Day, leaving them on unequal footing. August knows about Day's feelings for him, but Day has no idea August knows, and that's not really fair. but Mhok doesn't want to say anything because maybe, just maybe, August could make Day happy. maybe Day could finally get what he wants for the first time in a long while.

so Mhok watches. because Mhok will never put himself first, it's not who he is.

Day clings to these broken and battered shoes, a connection to a past life he thought he had to leave behind. he clings to familiarity and comfort. all things Mhok has become to him.

and so maybe Mhok sees himself in these battered, rough around the edges shoes. maybe Mhok believes he can be fixed, just like the splitting sole. maybe Day is fixing him every day, not in a stupid fucking 'he saved me' bullshit like the crying guy at the interview, but in a genuine, he's changed my outlook on life, my perspective, my everything, and made me a better person. maybe these scuffed shoes can be better if someone helps them.

and so he fixes the shoes, just as he's been fixing himself ever since he walked through Day's front door, and he gives Day the sunflower he couldn't give him before. Day asks him what it is but again Mhok doesn't have the heart to say. he doesn't elaborate, doesn't explain, only moves past the moment because this isn't for him, isn't about him, this is about Day reclaiming something he thought he lost.

How can I throw them away? I love them so much.

Maybe if he loves these broken and scuffed shoes he could love me too.

and here's where we have a story narrating for us again, my absolute favorite thing about this entire series. i love the narration from the books they read - and i love that the boys are both simultaneously the character represented. the words always have a way of applying to both of them and it's fucking gorgeous.

and with this narration we've been so seamlessly slotted into Mhok's POV. everything up until now has focused pretty strongly on Day's struggles and adjustments, we've seen everything from the lens of Day and what he's facing, but suddenly we're so perfectly slotted into Mhok's body, something we haven't focused too hard on yet. sure, we've seen his pain and his grief, but we're seeing so much more now, so many little intricacies and inner thoughts. i absolutely love how this was done.

Do you think I fell in love with him without realizing it?

and as he has this love blooming in his chest, this realization of the magnitude of his feelings - that he doesn't just want Day to be happy but wants to be the source of that happiness - Mhok begins to become invisible again. it's a place he's familiar with and it doesn't come as a surprise. just with a mournful resignation. this is how it always is, and how it was always going to be.

and just like with Porjai he decides to step back. it's worth it as long as the people he loves are happy; even if that means he's not by their side.

like the scuffed shoes, Mhok is replaced with something better. Day put in his eye drops and no longer looks to Mhok but to August instead.

and as Mee and Day's fear grows smaller Mhok's grows larger. the fear of being left behind and the fear of being forgotten. the fear that Day no longer needs him, will no longer look to him for help or seek him out. the fear that he's lost his place as Day's friend, slid back into the role of only a caretaker, and perhaps even further back still into a stranger.

Mhok's shirt reads: IF LOST, DROP IN ANY MAILBOX. Return Postage Guaranteed.

because Mhok is lost. he doesn't know where he stands anymore, where he fits into Day's life. but he knows he'll always return to Day's side for as long as he needs him.

the scuffed shoes are left on the shelf, just as Mhok has tucked away his feelings for Day. they'll always be there, familiar and reliable, and maybe someday Day will need them again. maybe someday.

and then we learn that Night smokes, and maybe Day never hated the smell of cigarettes.

I think his voice is like the scent of cigarettes.

maybe Day just hated the way the smell reminded him of Night.

and we learn Day had fully resigned himself to spending his birthday alone.

his mother would be out of town, spending it with Night is out of the question, August has practice, and it's Mhok's day off. as if Mhok would rather be anywhere else. Day is used to not being a priority.

as Day peers at Mhok's chest maybe it feels like he can see into him. Mhok has always felt invisible, but somehow Day saw him in spite of all of that. maybe he wonders if Day can see into his chest, see that his heart is made of sunflowers, tucked away and kept in secret as to not inconvenience Day. and maybe Mhok wonders: can you see them? can you see the way they bloom and turn towards your light?

and for a moment Mhok is weak. he takes Day's hand and places it back on his chest as if to say: my heart is here and it belongs to you, can't you feel it?

and here is where i will begin to cry and not stop crying until the end of the episode - so if you're crying don't worry, i'm here with you.

because Day sprays Mhok with Tiwa cologne. fucking Tiwa cologne.

Tiwa means day time. the cologne was created to mimic the atmosphere of the Thai countryside during the day.

suddenly, Mhok is bathed in the scent of Day. both the concept and the man.

it's Day's favorite scent.

It smells both like toughness and aggression.

At first, you want to flee from it.

But after you scent it for a while, it makes you feel warm.

and Mhok's face falls at first because is that how Day sees him? he thought Day saw him, he thought Day understood that he's not all the things people say he is and - oh.

oh.

you can see the palpable relief across Mhok's face because Day does see him, does understand him.

(the cologne also shows us once again Day's privilege. Tiwa costs $140 a bottle, or ฿‎4884)

again Day asks what Mhok is going to this dinner as, and then asks why Mhok is so secretive.

and maybe for a moment, for just those fleeting few minutes they spent getting ready together, Mhok was able to pretend this was real. he was able to pretend Day was going to dinner with him, would stay by his side and enjoy his birthday with him, create new memories with him.

but that's not for him. it's just another sunflower he tucks away in his chest.

they arrive at the party and there's no place for Mhok; not at Day's side, not at the table, not anywhere. he's never acknowledged again by anyone there, no one offers him a spot because he's an outsider, this place isn't for him. when the sun no longer shines on Mhok he is invisible once again.

suddenly, Mhok is back in his own fish tank - because it's not only Little Day that freed himself of the cloying miasma of his environment but Big Mhok had as well. his tank was clean, he could breathe and see clearly again.

but now he's back there, as smoke fills his lungs and regret tastes like ash on his tongue. he can't smell the jasmine blooms anymore.

Day still looks for him, still seeks him out because Mhok has always stayed, has always been around even when Day didn't know he needed him. Mhok's been there at every step of this journey and now suddenly Day is adrift on his own. what do you do when the person that has always been there is suddenly gone?

it probably feels as if Day has been robbed of yet another one of his senses.

and we see Day get overwhelmed again, the narrative has shifted away from Mhok now and we're nestled back in Day's body where things are so loud and so much, too much, and he doesn't have the one person he can find comfort in there. everyone is trying too hard, treating him like glass, and he's still a fucking human being, he's still an adult man, he's not a fucking child -

and so he escapes. he finds a moment of peace and collects himself. he hears someone approach and who else could it be but Mhok? it's always Mhok, it's always been Mhok.

but Mhok's not here.

August is.

and suddenly August is kissing him but it's not right, it doesn't feel like he thought it would, and maybe he realizes he liked the idea of August more than August himself. maybe he clung to memories made fond and soft with time.

because this? this is not the kiss of a man full of hope and love. if Bad Buddy taught me anything, this is a kiss goodbye.

the hero is coming and it's time for the villain to go.

Mhok knows better than anyone that the one thing Day doesn't want from anyone, the one thing he fears the most in all of this, is receiving pity. he's never wanted to be pitied for any of this, but August has just pitied him in the worst possible way. and of course Mhok is here to see it.

of course Mhok would come back, now of all times.

and we see Mhok speak in a way we haven't before. his rage becomes incandescent, beyond the limits of just shouting, and it's the quiet of his rage that becomes far more terrifying. it's the quiet calm before the storm. Day has never seen Mhok enraged, not really, he's never been there when Mhok has hit someone, but he must hear the control slipping from Mhok's voice.

because August held everything Mhok had ever wanted in his hands and played with it, pitied it, and tossed it away. how can he be anything but full of bitter fury?

but as Day holds Mhok's hand he stops. he reluctantly releases his hold and curls his fingers around Day's hand. he'd do anything for Day, now more than ever.

Mhok speaks softly to Day and holds him close, the hug as much for Day as it is for him. they're both broken, both trying to hold on to the withered petals of their hearts. if they hold on tight enough maybe they can hold each other together.

and now we're to my absolute favorite recurring thing Mhok does.

Mhok takes Day away, he doesn't let him retreat into that tiny fish tank. Mhok brings Day out into the world, to breathe the fresh air.

and each time he's brought Day somewhere he can enjoy without his sight - yes, even this rooftop.

on the porch, Day could smell the jasmine blossoms.

Day could smell the flowers at the market, was surrounded by their scent.

now he's bathed in the light of the rising sun, in the warmth it has to offer.

the world feels different in the early hours of the morning. the air is a little colder, a little thinner, everything is more quiet and subdued. you can feel the sun start to thaw out the Earth, can feel as it glides over your face and warms your cheeks.

this place is special to Mhok, a small sanctuary he's tucked away for himself, and now he's sharing it - and a shard of his past - with Day. in exchange, Day opens up. he explains that no one really liked him before, that each person (Gee not withstanding) at that party pitied him and were only there as some sort of act of charity.

I'm just so damn lucky to be blind.

because people are looking at him now, right? he has everyone's attention now. he got to kiss his crush. people would fall at his feet to help him.

but it's all wrong, tainted with pity and charity. he has their pity but not their affection.

Is there anyone else in this world who doesn't feel pity for me?

Do you still think I feel pity for you? Mhok asks after kissing Day in the light of the rising sun, because Mhok has never pitied Day, not for a single moment in time. it's not pity that he feels housed in his chest but love, overwhelming and all consuming.

just as the moon represented the hearts of Moonlight Chicken so does the sun represent the hearts of Last Twilight. this is the dawn of something new for both of them, fragile but hopeful.

I'M JUST FEELING SO FUCKING MUCH. do you think p'aof will be my best friend? if you've read this far i'm smooching you and also here's a dumb little surprise.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @lookwhatihave

[dreamerwitches]

Scene Zero for Dummies

I'm going to be a martyr and list out all the important plot beats for scene zero so that no one else has to slog through it like me. Let's goooo

Scene 1

Mabayu loves movies, is bad at socialising and lying, is most likely autistic, very lazy and works at her aunt's - Sakie - cafe. She's a year above most of the girls at school, in Mami's year.

While watching a movie, time pauses because of Homura and Mabayu gets paused too. She can resume the paused TV when she touches it.

Time pauses at school for her and she uses this time to copy a students answers during a test.

Mabayu sees Kyubey outside but Sakie doesn't see them, thinking she saw Amy. A cat that visits outside the cafe regularly.

Mabayu has a soul gem ring but doesn't remember where she got it from. She has no idea she is currently a magical girl.

At the cafe Mabayu gets a sudden vision of Amy getting hit by a car. She goes outside and sees it happened and Madoka is crying over her. Madoka and Sakie go to the vet with Amy while Mabayu looks after the cafe.

Amy suddenly gets better at the vet with the vets declaring it a miracle. This was because Madoka made her wish to save Amy.

The school goes on an annual visit to an auto plant (what a lame school trip huh). Mabayu accidentally wanders into a witch's labyrinth but Mami pulls her out with her ribbons.

Meanwhile, parts of episode 10 are happening during this. Homura is in her second loop. Eg. tells Madoka in class she's a magical girl too. Homura actually tells Mami and Madoka about her wish and being from the future here but the two have a hard time believing it.

Homura struggles fighting witches so Mami actually gives her a book on how to make explosives (guess she didnt look it up online this time eh?)

Mabayu follows Mami after being curious of her being a magical girl (she still doesn't know about them) but Mami acts weirdly saying she'll kill her (I have no idea why this is so out of character). Mabayu runs away in fear into a Bartels barrier and it kills her and later Mami (sigh)

Episode 10 plays out where Madoka becomes Kriemhild and Homura finds out about witches

Film 2

Mabayu is surprised to wake up at the beginning of the loop and thinks everything was a dream.

Kyubey finally approaches Mabayu saying they've already made a contract with Mabayu.

The Amy incident happens just the same as last time as Mabayu forgets to interfere.

Meanwhile, Homura is unsure about sharing the truth with others.

Mabayu uses her magic at school. She can turn invisible in her magi form by bending light. Her magic can also let her hear conversations from a way away as well as basically zoom in in real life.

She spies on Madoka and Mami in Mami's apartment. Homura enters, telling them not to listen to Kyubey but doesn't elaborate as she doesn't think they're ready yet.

Mabayu wants to find Homura's address at school so she can meet her but cannot find it in the staff room.

At the auto plant visit, Madoka and Homura fight the witch with Homura finally explaining her past. (but not the truth about witches) Madoka is fine with this, trusting Homura. Homura isn't ready to tell Mami yet.

Kyubey makes contact with Sayaka but she is dissuaded from contracting by Homura.

Sayaka knows about Madoka being a magical girl and is a little jealous she's so amazing. The scene with Kyosuke plays out ala episode 4 and she is swayed to contract.

Homura encounters Elly similar to Madoka in episode 4 and Sayaka saves her.

Madoka, Sayaka and Homura find Anja and Kyoko interrupts like in episode 5. Sayaka is suspicious that Homura knows Kyoko's name but is hesitant about telling Sayaka the truth.

Ala episode 10, Homura meets with everyone to tell them the truth. She tells them about witches but Mami and Sayaka don't fully trust her.

At the hospital, Sayaka wants to visit Kyosuke but Hitomi is already there. She overhears him saying he thinks Hitomi's visits are what cured his hand and Sayaka is very upset.

Sayaka's suffering arc plays out with it ending in Mami's breakdown.

Madoka and Homura fight Walpurgis with it ending in Homura killing Madoka before she can become Kriemhild. Mabayu resets along with Homura.

Film 3

Homura becomes coolTM

Homura shoots Kyubey outside Madoka's home, believing them to be dead now.

At home, Homura realises she can't tell the truth to anyone and will kill Walpurgis on her own. Mabayu arrives in her home, telling her Kyubey isn't dead.

The girls are two late and Madoka saves Amy, becoming a magical girl.

Homura is mad at Mabayu for spying on her and Mabayu gets nervous, running away.

Madoka is fighting the Minotaur witch at the auto plant but is struggling. Mabayu tries to help, using her weapon for the first time.

Homura stops time, stepping in. Mabayu is shocked Homura was going to abandon this Madoka just because she's contracted. Homura explains she doesn't want to connect to Madoka to feel the pain all over again because she knows she'll have to reset eventually in this loop.

Mabayu has a future vision. This shows that Homura can win but Mabayu will die. Knowing this is the best outcome, she goes along with it, dying.

Mami rushes over, upset at Mabayu's death. She later dies by Charlotte despite Madoka's warning. The two fight Walpurgis but fail.

Film 4

Mabayu visits Homura and both of them remember the last loop. She is at first rude but soon thanks Mabayu for sacrificing herself for the best outcome.

The two team up with Homura killing Kyubey outside Madoka's home again.

Kyubey visits Mabayu at home but she plays dumb, pretending to not understand them. She makes up a warning that if Kyubey tries to make Madoka contract something terrible will happen.

Meanwhile, Homura deals with Mami by making a truce. She'll tell her where witches will appear with her past knowledge so that she won't make any other girls contract.

Mabayu and Homura discover that the car that hits Amy was caused by a witch so they find the cause, defeating a familiar.

At the auto plant, Mabayu manages to stop Madoka and Sayaka from falling into the witch's barrier by helping them find the exit. Mabayu and Homura successfully fell the witch.

Unfortunately, Kyubey manages to meet Madoka and Sayaka, talking to them.

Kyubey tells Mami about these new candidates but since she made a deal with Homura she refuses.

Mabayu and Homura deal with Gertrud but Sayaka is injured in the crossfire. Homura uses this to warn Madoka from contracting as its dangerous.

Madoka approaches Homura and Mabayu, asking about magical girls. She is sad about Homura fighting alone and wants to help but Homura tells her adamantly not to.

Mabayu is worried that if Homura keeps telling Madoka about the danger of being a magical girl, she'll just want to help Homura more. Mabayu suggests they emphasise the fact she will no longer be human. Homura wonders if telling her the truth will help.

Madoka gets lost in Charlotte's labyrinth at the hospital. Homura decides to tell Madoka the truth about witches. Madoka then makes a wish to save Charlotte from despair, creating a strangely coloured Nagisa.

The girls then have to look after Nagisa who acts similarly to usual but more childishly. The group think that they can deal with Nagisa by fulfilling her wish.

Nagisa has nightmares of killing Mami as Charlotte and begins to think she's not a good person. She goes on a rampage, killing witches as well as Kyoko.

This film explains Mabayu's mother's backstory. She had a future vision that was never wrong but one day saw that she was going to die of illness and it broke her. She became a different person, begging no one to approach her in hospital.

Seeing no option to save Nagisa, Mabayu uses her magic to alter her memories. She cuts it like a film, removing her memories of killing Mami and Kyoko.

Nagisa gets a cheesecake baked by Sakie.

The girls fight Walpurgis and Nagisa is finally at peace so disappears. Homura resets

Film 5

Homura states they cannot let Madoka know about witches as they'll have another mess like Nagisa to deal with.

At the auto plant, Mabayu helps out Madoka and Sayaka again. Homura freezes time and kills Kyubey so that they cannot talk to Madoka and Sayaka.

Homura has sent Mami to another city so that she's out of their hair.

Mabayu is tasked with stalling Madoka and Sayaka from running into a witch at the mall but she's nervous about talking to them. Mabayu decides to ask Sayaka if she wants to work at her aunt's cafe.

Sayaka asks Mabayu why she wanted to hire her for work. Mabayu states she knows she collects DVDs but Sayaka is suspicious of how she knows so. Mabayu tries to lie but Sayaka sees right through her.

Kyubey tries to contact Sayaka to contract but she doesn't understand what they're saying.

Homura defeats Charlotte in the hospital. Kyubey appears and Mabayu uses a borrowed gun to kill them, masking it in the public space as a fire extinguisher going off.

Mabayu discovers that Madoka and Sayaka visited the hospital to see Kyosuke. Both Mabayu and Homura were unaware of him before now.

Homura asks Mabayu to see into the future but in it Sayaka has contracted. Homura realised she overlooked Sayaka while focusing on Madoka.

Homura is mad at Sayaka so prepares to fight her however Mabayu butts in. She doesn't want Sayaka to get hurt so asks Homura to let her deal with Sayaka instead. She plans on becoming her friend so she won't turn into a witch or have a bad effect on Madoka.

Kyoko doesn't interfere with Sayaka as she doesn't visit Mitakihara in this timeline.

Mabayu continues to fail at becoming closer friends with Sayaka as she's too bad at conversations. She's also put off by the fact she thinks of herself more as a senpai (an older classmate) than a friend.

Sayaka later fights Elsa Maria with Homura aiding. She is mad at Homura and an incident makes Mabayu appear where she was previously invisible. Sayaka is mad that Mabayu was working with Homura all along. The three tussle but oh what a surprise, Madoka contracts to make Sayaka no depress any more wow

Madoka and Sayaka fight Walpurgisnacht but fail, Homura resetting time.

Film 6

Mabayu apologises for messing up but Homura is fine with it since they learnt a lot. She honestly doesn't want to kill Sayaka at the end of the day.

Mabayu hires Sayaka again but this time knows her better, pointing out her love of classical music.

Sayaka discovers Mabayu is a magical girl but the two seem on good terms about it. Mabayu explains what she can remember of her wish (as it is still unknown to her) and that it was a wish for another person.

Kyosuke's tantrum from episode 4 plays out as Mabayu watches in hiding.

Sayaka is about to make her wish but Mabayu intervenes. She tries to dissuade her but fails.

Mabayu and Sayaka go witch hunting together. Mabayu chooses a song for Sayaka to fight to which apparently improves her strength.

Mabayu spies on Hitomi and Sayaka having their conversation like in episode 7. Mabayu is unsure how to cheer Sayaka up from this.

Sayaka asks Mabayu if she can see into the future about Hitomi's confession but backpedals, losing confidence. Mabayu hopes Sayaka will confess instead.

Sayaka seemingly decides to confess but Kyubey tells her she's no longer human and loses her resolve.

Sayaka faces Elsa Maria like usual.

Sayaka skips school the next day and later is found on the Soul-gem-throwing-bridge and does the deed herself. Unfortunately, this hustle makes Madoka contract whoops (she's really an idiot in scene zero huh)

Reset time whee

Film 7

Mabayu decides against letting Sayaka contract this time.

Mabayu pretends she has fortune telling abilities, trying to dissuade Sayaka from thinking about a contract and suggests maybe raising money for surgery for him instead.

Mabayu fucks up and Sayaka contracts anyway wow

Homura realises that Sayaka absolutely can't contract because clearly she's a fucking idiot

Madoka becomes a magical girl for Sayaka NEXT

Film 8

After Sayaka has the Kyosuke incident of 2011, Mabayu decides to cut her memories of it. She reveals that the target has to be thinking of the memories in order for her to cut them (great writing there…)

Walpurgisnacht comes and Madoka contracts, becoming Kriemhild.

Film 9

Mabayu practices fighting witches alone

Wow nothing really happens in this one huh. But it seems like the loops are finally getting to Mabayu mentally

Film 10

Homura and Mabayu leave town to stock up on grief seeds but Mabayu is killed by Kyoko

Kyoko kills Mami too wow thats so out of character…

Film 11

Mabayu realises that she continues fighting because of her admiration for Homura.

Kyubey suggests Mabayu replaces Madoka as the big entropy ending power source

Film 12

Mabayu suggests they get Mami to help them but Homura is against it

Homura instead recruits Kyoko, swaying her with the promise of plenty of grief seeds

Homura and Mabayu grow a little closer with Homura allowing her to call her by her first name. This makes Mabayu upset I think because she’s worried about getting too close with Homura

Kyoko tells Mami the truth about witches. Mabayu decides to cut Mami’s memories but sees herself in them, leading toooo

Film Mami Tomoe

Wow Mami is finally important thank fucking god! This is set before everything btw

Mabayu meets Mami with Kyubey and decides on a wish quickly. To remove her mother’s future sight so she no longer knows about her predicted death.

Mami and Mabayu work together by Mabayu holding back but using her future sight and Mami fighting for her, sharing the grief seed.

After an incident with a rookie magical girl, Mabayu learns she can cut memories. The girl seems to go missing and the two are worried, Mami thinking it's her fault

This bit is weird, it seems to play out like film 1 but from Mami's point of view. Mabayu suddenly seems to not know her. (Kyubey is affected too)

Homura is coolTM so its not film 1 I guess. Homura tells Mami not to talk with Mabayu.

Mami thinks Mabayu erased her memories of their time together.

Kyoko tells Mami the truth about witches.

Mabayu meets up with Mami and sees her memories which brings her old ones back. She realises Mami is guilty about leading other girls to their deaths by making them contract. Mabayu thinks she's a coward for cutting her own memories but leaving Mami with the burden.

It is revealed Homura was trying to keep Mami and Mabayu apart so that Mabayu wouldn't regain her memories of Mami and the time they spent together. (I dont really know why...)

Mabayu uses future sight for Homura, saying they'll win and fix everything, but this is a lie. She actually saw herself becoming a witch.

As Mabayu is close to falling into despair, Madoka wishes to save her.

Then we go to film 0, I dont know why this is getting so hard to follow...

It seems like this is the first timeline, the start of episode 10.

Madoka makes a contract to save Amy.

Mabayu is friends with Mami here.

Meanwhile Mabayu meets Ultimate Madoka??? It seems she is showing Mabayu these events.

Mabayu helps Madoka with the minotaur witch.

Mabayu sees Walpurgisnacht while future-visioning for the minotaur witch and tells Mami and Madoka.

Episode 10 plays out

The girls defeat Charlotte with Mami surviving.

Walpurgisnacht comes and Mabayu uses her future vision but sees they will fail and both Mabayu and Mami will become witches.

Mabayu lies, saying they'll defeat the witch.

At Walpurgisnacht, Mabayu confesses she lied before and she suddenly sees numerous films of the anime.

Mabayu says something dumb and cuts her own memories "Her future vision shows her a film with a future in which her vision of the future is already woven in. So if she erases her memories of despair, then the future will turn into hope!" like what the fuck does that mean? But Mami knew she was lying anyway cause she's a terrible liar so Mabayu you fucking solved nothing

Mami and Mabayu both die by Walpurgisnacht and Homura contracts.

Mabayu awakes in a new timeline and goes to cut Kyubey and Mami's memories of her.

And now we're FINALLY back to the main story

Mabayu cuts the film of her fate(?) I guess making it so she forgets about witches.

Madoka, Homura, Kyoko and Mabayu go to find Mami in the school where she's laid out a trap. She wants to 'free Mabayu of Homura's brainwashing' and wants to run away with her.

Mami doesn't want her memories to be cut because she doesn't want to stop being Mabayu's friend but in the end she accepts it, Mabayu cutting her memories.

They fight Walpurgis but fail, reset!

Film 13

Mami no longer comes up to Mabayu in the morning, she no longer remembers her as a friend.

Mabayu decides to cut Homura's memories of her and then from the entire film(?) I guess from everyone else.

At the cafe, Mami visits to buy cake and gets along with Mabayu.

The anime then plays out like usual.

-

And well that's it :T what a lame ending huh. Can you tell I was super fed up at the end? But... the story is here... sorry if things don't make sense in places, they don't make sense just as much in the story...

[hahskeleton]

Goodbye Sundrop

First drabble for my Sun Before Solar AU!! :D

Word count: 1,895

Read time: ~7-10 minutes (depends on your reading speed)

Content warnings: Agonized yelling, crying, robotic blood, choking, abuse, death,

Writer’s note: This drabble is a little explanation for my Sun Before Solar au and shows exactly how Sun went and Solar stayed. If you are severely upset over any of the content of warnings, please don’t read this (there isn’t a whole lot of some stuff above). Also, if I’ve made any grammar mistakes, please tell me!! I’m running off a shot of espresso and an hour of sleep whilst writing this sooooo-

Moon bursted into his home shortly followed by Solar, who quickly trailed behind him, saying as little as possible. Moon was heard grumbling angry sentence fragments about Ruin and how much he hated him. It was a little wild considering for months, nobody but Eclipse had suspected Ruin to be the mastermind behind all the hype and excitement.

As the two animatronics rushed through the house to the room where Sun and Ruin were, Moon’s speed became more rapid, only to thrust open the door and find Sun standing in the corner as far away from Ruin as he could get.

“Moon!” He gasped, relaxing a bit as Ruin shifted in the bed he sat on.

“Sun, are you okay? Solar and I came as soon as-”

“Ah, yes, Solar.” Ruin interrupted, crossing his legs slowly as if to intimidate them. Moon looked back at the eclipse-themed bot and shrugged, his monotone expression shaking lightly, unbeknownst to what Ruin had planned. “You know, you should be gone right about now.” Ruin gave a sly smirk, closing his eyes like he was worry free, though he was far from that.

“What?” Solar rung in, taking a heavy step further into the room.

“You should really be thanking me that you’re still here.” The mixed animatronic swiftly raised from the bed to properly face the three family members, grinning widely at them all.

Solar scoffed, “What on earth would I want to thank you for? You’ve caused nothing but trouble!” In the corner, Sun clung helplessly to Moon’s arm, utterly afraid of what Ruin might try to do.

“Why, because you’re alive! Why else?”

“Why do you keep saying that?!” Moon yelled furiously, clenching his fists aggressively.

Ruin giggled like a child, walking over to the window that stretched from ceiling to floor, “Because, dear Moon, if it weren’t for a little messing around I had done, you dear friend Solar, here, would be gone! Dead! In the afterlife!”

Moon looked surprised over to Solar, who’s expression was just as shocked as his and Sun’s. When nobody reacted verbally to whatever Ruin was getting at, he decided to elaborate and make things clearer, just for his entertainment.

“You see, the way this universe works is… different. Now, a little while ago, with the way everything is set up, Solar would have died. But then I realized something that could be beneficial to me!” Ruin rambled, the mention of him killing off his family made Moon’s blood boil. If he had blood, that was.

“I decided, why let Solar die, when there’s Sun?”

Moon’s head flashed immediately to his brother, who had gone almost white at Ruin’s words. Sun shook uncontrollably, tearing up with black oil-like teardrops in the corner of his eyes. “M-Moon…”

Ruin snapped at Sun, “I’m not finished talking!” He barked, standing up straight, “So I did a little messing around and worked with your codes, and, well, let’s just say what I’ve done will take effect…”

Sun suddenly clenched his stomach area in pain and choked back a yell of agony.

“Right about now.” Ruin smirked as he watched Sun begin to have his life sucked right away from him.

“Sun!” Moon cried, taking him by the shoulders and looking him firmly in the eyes, “S-sun, just get a grip, okay? Hold on, y-you’ll be okay…!” Moon panicked, looking to Solar for help, but he was just staring, dumbfounded about everything happening that seemed to go by in a flash.

Tears dropped from Sun’s distressed faceplate as he began to feel… funny. He took a moment to take his hand away from his stomach and watched it in horror as it began to turn to nothing like dust being blown off a desk. Moon said nothing at first, his words taken right from him as he watched his brother’s life come to an end.

“Moonie…”

“Sun, no no no no, you can’t die! You can’t, y-you can’t!” Moon quivered, taking Sun’s hands and squeezing them as he began to cry too. A few of Sun’s rays began to fade away as well, and all anyone could really to was sob.

“Moon, I-I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see you again, but…” Sun shook, speaking through rivers of oily tears, “I love you, Moon, and- and- I’m going to miss you…!” Sun took his brother into an agony-filled embrace and Moon began to yelp with sadness.

“N-no, this isn’t the end of you! You’re not going to die!” He yelled, squeezing Sun, not believing his own words as they left his silicone lips.

“Moonie… I’m going to die…” Sun whispered, nuzzling his face into Moon’s shoulder. The lunar animatronic began to wail like there was no tomorrow, and Sun savored the last moments he could have with his brother.

It all went by too fast to process, but within the minute, Sun was gone. Moon had collapsed onto his knees, crying into what was left of his brother; his wrist ribbons were held firmly in Moon’s hand as he sobbed endlessly into them.

“SUN!!!” He screamed, hoping in any way, his brother, his beloved twin, would come back to him.

“A fragile thing, life.” Ruin cocked from the other side of the room, who was absentmindedly fiddling with his fingers.

Somehow, Moon had managed to forget Ruin was even there. He sprung up suddenly from his knees and stormed over to the mix-matched animatronic he had foolishly trusted and grabbed him by the neck, thrusting him against the wall violently.

“You’ve made a huge enemy today.” Moon growled, tightening his grip firmly on Ruin’s neck.

“I-I’m su-sure I have!”

Moon swung his fist and punched Ruin across the face countless times before beating him elsewhere all while he choked in his hands. Solar hurried to Moon’s side and stopped him before he could officially murder the cruel animatronic.

“Moon, be rational, what will killing him accomplish?” Solar yelled, only partially pulling him out of his violent rage.

“For one he’d be FAR away from where Sun is now!” Moon hissed in response, ripping his arm away from Solar and punching Ruin more and more, beating him until he could barely move.

“Moon!” Solar yelled again, holding him back by both arms and dragging him to the other side of the room. The lunar animatronic squirmed in Solar’s arms as he fought to get back to avenging his twin.

Ruin coughed, grinning despite his terrible condition, “You really are funny, Moon!” He cackled, rolling onto his side with an aching groan. Thick, blood-like oil leaked from multiple places on the destroyed animatronic’s body, even some trickling from the corner of his eyes and his mouth.

Moon shuffled to get out of Solar’s grasp more at the sound of Ruin’s aggravating voice. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, RUIN! YOU WILL BURN IN HELL NO MATTER WHAT!” Moon howled with anger and agony, becoming weak from using all his energy to escape.

Finally, Ruin’s eyes turned black, and he fell limp, either dead or out of battery. Solar released Moon, and he fell to the floor again, crying for his brother. Solar bent down and hesitated to hug Moon, but it was probably what he needed at a moment like it was. Moon cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore, and at that point it was well after dark, and morning was nearing. Both Solar and Moon had ignored a number of calls from Earth and Lunar.

When he had finished, Moon had stood wearily and staggered out of Sun’s bedroom, knowing he’d never be able to walk back into that room ever again without a huge wave of dread washing over him. Solar walked out as well as he watched Moon flop onto the couch and lay miserably.

“Moon, what should I do with R-”

“Leave him. I’ll deal with it later.” Moon muttered, his voice cracked and broken from crying.

Solar frowned as he walked out of Sun’s former room, closing the door behind him. Sun’s cats ran below his feet, making him watch where he stepped as he wandered into the living area. “I- uh- I can leave if you’d prefer it.” Solar suggested, dithering to sit.

“I don’t care what you do right now.” Moon hissed, clearly in the worst mood he could be in.

Solar’s insides ached as he was given the nostalgic feeling of when his Moon from his dimension would hiss and scold him like that. It made him feel like a burden, so he left. Lord knows what Moon did with the rest of his night, but Solar knew someone was going to have to tell Earth and Lunar the sad news.

When he arrived at the daycare, Earth and Lunar rushed to him as if he was on fire. “Solar! We were so worried! Where’ve you been?! Where’s Sun and Moon?!” Earth asked, hugging the eclipse-themed animatronic.

Solar could barely speak, and it wasn’t like he wanted to anyway. He wasn’t the right person to tell them the truth, but Moon certainly wouldn’t be fit to do it either. He stumbled over his words, trying to find what to say, but it was so hard to say anything after what he’d just experienced.

“S-sun he’s… he’s- not here…” Solar managed to say, watching as Earth and Lunar exchanged confused glances.

“Where is he?” Lunar asked.

Solar figuratively swallowed a lump in his throat and felt the guilt rise. There was so much he could have done to prevent that, right? “He’s… he’s dead…”

Earth’s shoulders fell and Lunar shook, “He’s what-?” Earth sniffled, grabbing her shoulders for support.

“He’s dead. He w-was killed by Ruin…”

Lunar fell to the floor, tears rapidly falling as well, and all his sister did was stand and shake. Stand, shake, and cry. “He’s not! He can’t be- n-no, not Sun! Never!” Earth denied it all, throwing herself against the desk and sobbing into her arms.

“Not Sun! No! Please, this is a joke, it has to be!”

Solar walked up beside Earth and wrapped his arms around her, but unfortunately comfort wasn’t his strong suit. “Earth, I know it’s sad, but-”

“He’s dead…” Lunar squeaked from the floor behind the two. Solar cocked his head to face him, dark shadows ominously covering his face. “He- he can’t be dead…” Lunar’s hands began to shiver as lightning started to appear.

“Lunar, calm down…” Solar whispered, slowly walking up to the small animatronic. Lunar flung himself to his feet and started to pace back and forth, the lightning getting dangerously wild. Earth looked up too, spotting the fit Lunar seemed to be having.

The only thing that you could hear in the entire daycare was the crackle of Lunar’s lightning, and him muttering, “he’s dead” over and over again until he forced his hands to his temple and began to cry violently.

Earth and Solar hurried to him and took him into their arms, hugging him closely as all three began to wail together.

“Sun… my brother… m-my last original brother… he’s gone…” Lunar whispered, so many tears slipping down his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Lunar…” Earth whispered, choking back ugly sobs and hiccups. Lunar shook his head, “No… it’s not.” He gasped through huge sobs.

“We didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

[suitsusboth]

I’m rereading lcbtm for the thousandth time and the picnic scene where Kate wonders if she’ll have to give away Newton hurts my heart. What if she got engaged to Sir Henry and he doesn’t want Newton so she shows up at Bridgerton House and asks Anthony if he’ll take in Newton and Kate is crying and Anthony’s heart is breaking watching her cry idk where I’m going with this

Imagine though? 💔

When the butler lets Anthony know Miss Sharma is here, he practically runs out of his office, his heart racing with excitement. It’s only when he sees Kate does it stop.

Kate is stood there, in the middle of the foyer, clutching Newton’s leash. Her face is drawn, like she’s trying not to cry.

And that’s when he knew.

“Lord Bridgerton,” she said softly, almost apologetically, “I’m afraid I must ask you a favour.”

Anthony swallowed hard, words lost to him until he managed to croak out, “You’ve accepted him then?”

Kate let out a watery breath, looking down. He did not have to elaborate on who he was. She did not reply to his question, instead saying, “His daughters were not fond of Newton’s enthusiasm.”

Anthony shook his head vehemently. “No, no, it’s not right—”

None of it was, her engagement, Newton— she at least deserved to keep her dearest companion if she was condemning herself to a loveless marriage. Because she didn’t love Sir Henry. He knew it. In his heart of hearts he knew it.

“My lord,” she whispered, her eyes watery, “Please. I need to know Newton will be all right.” She looked down at the fluffy creature, who let out a sad whine.

“But will you be?” Anthony implored, desperately searching her face for answers. “Is this really what you want?”

Kate’s lips parted, but no words came out. Without more thought, Anthony reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly as he stepped closer.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he whispered. Kate stared back at him, eyes wide. “There’s another choice—”

Kate screwed her eyes shut. “No, there isn’t.”

“Kate,” he begged, feeling desperate now, “Just let me speak, let me—”

“What else is there to say?” she asked, her voice half choked. “This is for the best. Edwina will be taken care of, so will mama, so will I. I just need— I just need Newton to be—”

“But I love you!”

And you know it goes to shit from there 🤷‍♀️

[rebeliz7]

AUGUST - DRABBLE #5

Drabble 5 - August, dreams II

…

“I tell you I love you, and that’s code for you to ignore all my texts?”

You wake up with a start, a scream getting caught somewhere in your throat and for a moment all you want to do is cry. 

Wanda’s face’s still very much present in your mind, the dream you just had refusing to dissipate just yet. But all the pain, the pain you’re feeling in your chest feels so real that you have to leave your bed in a rush. 

Daisy doesn’t stir as you leave the room completely and you’re grateful for that, mostly because you’re not sure if you’ll ever share with her these dreams you’ve been having lately. 

“I love you too, you know?”

The phrase comes to you as your vision turns blurry, and you lean against the wall just outside of your bedroom for support. 

Tears roll down your cheeks without a warning, as unbearable pain washes over you. The heartbreak only confuses you more, because it was just a dream--whatever you’re feeling doesn’t make any sense. 

You’ve never dated Wanda, and she’s certainly never told you that she loves you. 

…

“Ask me to stay.”

You wake up in a rush, sitting up and breathing elaborately. Wanda’s tear stained cheeks are still the only thing you can see, the begging undertone in her voice the only sound that rounds your mind as you struggle to focus on this reality. 

“August is not over yet.”

The response comes to your mind out of nowhere and the heartbreak you felt before comes rushing back, hitting you and stealing your breath away one more time. 

August. 

What the hell happened in August?

… 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” It takes you a moment to realize that you’re in the Medbay, and the person talking to you is Natasha. 

“I found you unconscious in the hallway. Friday confirmed you collapsed, and I decided to bring you here for a check up.”

You had a dream and you left the room, you didn’t even know what you were going to do--you were heartbroken, just like you are right now. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Natasha says, and you have to take a double look to be able to really see her. 

“Feels like August all over again.” You tell her, and something changes. 

The reaction is small, diminutive and any other person would have missed it. But you’re an agent, a spy and you catch the moment she decides to lie to you. 

“What happened?” The door bursts open, and Wanda rushes inside the room frantically. 

You watch her run to your bed, the worry in her eyes filling the room like a tangible thing, impossible to miss or hide. 

“Ask me to stay.”

You feel the pain in your heart, constricting your chest, making it hard to breathe, you can almost feel her skin under your fingertips and it hurts to know that it’d never be true. 

That it was just a dream. 

Yes, you’ve harbored this crush on Natasha’s wife since the day you met her but you know nothing will ever happen, and you’re engaged to a wonderful person that you care deeply for. 

“Is she okay? What did the doctor say? How are you feeling? Where’s the doctor?”

Wanda’s questions come in quick succession, her hand now resting on your shoulder, her eyes looking deeply into yours. 

“I’m okay.” You tell her, and her chin trembles as she squeezes your shoulder lightly. 

“What happened?” Daisy enters the room as well and she rushes to your bed, sits next to you and holds your hands before she kisses you quickly and softly. 

“I’m okay.” You tell her, just as Wanda’s hand leaves your shoulder and you watch her crossing her arms, taking a couple of steps backwards. 

She looks so out of place. 

“You should have woken me.” Daisy tells you and she kisses you again, as if she can’t help it--as if she just wants to be touching you, feeling you. 

But your eyes stray towards Wanda again and her eyes lock you in, making you lose your breath one more time. 

Daisy is hugging you, she’s telling you something but you can’t look away because--because you’ve seen that look before. 

“August isn’t over yet.”

The words, spoken in her voice invade your mind and you gasp as the feeling of her body sliding next to yours takes you by surprise. 

August. 

What the hell happened in August? 

… 

[the-sycophant]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt 01 - Steer

Words | 682 ——————–

“Faster!”

She could imagine it, the bite of wind at her cheeks and ears, the cold at her toes. The sound of snow crunching underneath as she paved her way through it, molding the terrain to her command like she was a god. A god rushing down a smooth, untouched hill on a sleekly polished sled. Her knuckles ached from squeezing the rim of it, her elbows. A bumpy ride regardless, she hit roots and stones. Almost tipped each time. Almost.

Calyx was a professional at this, even with just his one arm. He had said it was a different creature that had taken it each time she would ask, and always had a different, but elaborate story to go along with it. A morbol, a wolf, a chocobo, a wooly yak that had suddenly been bestowed with the mad desire for human flesh. He had said it was another person, once, too. That interested her the most. He never said that again.

“Watch out! It’s a bear!!”

“I see it.”

His voice was soft, as it always was. She had never heard him speak above a whisper. It helped reign in her delighted screeching. 

Somewhat.

“A BEAR!! I’m gonna jump over it…and it’s not gonna get me!”

Wicker creaked as she tugged on its handles, trying to pick up speed, trying to BE speed. She was going to fly over it, she could see it in her mind. She could make the jump! She bent low in her sled-

“Oh, but what reach it has!”

“Calyx!!”

“It’s gonna get ya!”

She did fall, then, as the arm holding the basket she sat in made her fall. Made her tumble to the ground and squeal. The stone was not as fluffy as she imagined snow to be. It wasn’t at all like falling into a cloud of iced cream. “Waaaaah!” A loud, albeit playful, wail as said bear did get her. Her laughs were shrill, hiccuping, face red as she was tickled, as he *chomp chomp chomped* at her. “W-wait! My…my dress! My…you’re getting it dirty!”

He sat back, apologized, murmured that it was ‘just life’, that bears ‘had to eat too’.

But he had gotten her this dress- a coat, really. Powder blue and fluffed with so much fluff, balls of fur puffing out and swinging on woven strings. Pretty wooden buttons and shiny, pearlescent stitchings. She dusted herself off, stood. It was her most favourite dress. The prettiest. He had seen it while he was away, said he thought she would look cute in it. She did. She looked very cute, felt very pretty. “I wanna go again!”

“Now-”

“I wanna…I wanna…the bear- I was gonna fly over it. I was going so fast. Did you see!”

“Yes.”

“And I almost made it the whole way down this time.” She picked up her shiny sled, the wicker basket. Hoisted it over her head and held it high. “And I almost made it. And I couldn’t get around the bear.”

“I know.”

“I wanna go again, Cal! I wanna-”

“Brother.” 

She jumped, shrieked. Dropped the basket on her head and started running before she was grabbed. The basket grabbed. She wriggled, fought.

She was held.

“Mother would be displeased.” The masked man rumbled, eying the pair. Eying her dress.

They were to be reprimanded for ‘slacking’, for being caught outside of prayer.

“P-please, Cal…can’t I keep it? It’s mine!”

She was wailing proper now, blubbering into the pretty sleeve of her pretty dress as she held his hand. “It’s mine and you…and you got it for me! Please don’t let them take it away! It’s mine! I like it! I’m sorry- please don’t take it away!”

It was dark where they were going. It only made her cry harder.

“I-I-it’s mine and…I just wanna…go sledding I...I’ll let you steer this time, It’s…I just got it- it’s mine and…and…”

And he only said that he would get her a new one. When he could take her to see real snowy hilltops, feel the real wind and cold...then he’d get her a new one.

One of many lies.