Do You All Remember In The Early 2010s Where People Were Talking About Freeing The Nipple And That Mixed-gender

walburga: you’re not good enough for my son

remus: you’re not good enough for your son

walburga: excuse me?

remus: you heard me.

Not to sound like a person who actually cares about children, but it's so alarming that there's this tendency and trend of not telling kids about their medical conditions that are in their charts.

I'm finding out as an adult that they (though it's not documented who) diagnosed me with a life-long, chronic condition without telling me when I was a teenager. I found out recently when I got curious about my medical charts, and otherwise, I would not have known what's wrong with me. I've been left with more questions than answers, and I feel like a private investigator investigating my own damn health and life.

Is this medical malpractice? Yes. However, I think it also speaks to a broader point of how children are seen to not be entitled to their own lives in any capacity, to the point where they are (intentionally or not) made ignorant about things that are or will affect them.

Hey people who follow me ig..?

My friend said hed get me a binder for my bday and im like very excited and just ahhhh!!

"You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me"

no, dear transphobes. I do not want your cis kids to be trans and go though surgeries when they're only 10. I want our trans kids, to become trans adults. I want them to have a better, safer future. I don't want to hear about another suicide by a trans minor, because they were so severely bullied and couldn't take it anymore. I don't want to hear about another trans teenager being murdered, just because they exist. if you can't understand such simple thing as this, there is something really wrong with you.

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

smut. p in v. creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. sex with a friend. language. 18+ content minors DNI.

3.2k - masterlist

summary - reader can't sleep. remus helps out. not with warm milk, though.

i'm supposed to be working on an assignment for college. but remus lupin is taking up space in my brain. so, enjoy :)

-

The air feels stuffy, too hot against your slick skin.

You blow a breath out in frustration, a piece of hair stuck to your forehead refusing to budge and you groan. The house is silent apart from the droning on of the electronic device between your legs that does little to abate the feeling clawing at your insides and it only makes you more frustrated. The lights in your bedroom are turned off, the world outside asleep. Everyone apart from you. You’ve spent two hours tossing and turning, and a further half hour trying to cure the ache between your legs.

It’s futile. You’ve tried everything. Every speed your overly expensive vibrator has to offer, every position, you even got out the glittery pink dildo Marlene got you for Secret Santa the previous year, leaving it out to the side after coming to the heart-breaking decision that it simply wasn’t big enough.

You feel like nothing will be big enough. Nothing feels right, nothing feels good enough, nothing is even close to tipping you over the edge. You shift, further to the left, and whine again, pressing the vibrator to a higher speed. It moves as you press the button, and the feeling of closeness is gone just like that. You growl, pushing the blankets off in a fit of rage and choose to stare at the ceiling in defeat. It’s not going to happen. You should just accept that. But you’re worked up, horny, and too fucking clammy.

The flat is quiet. Remus is asleep – the only reason you’re so nonchalant about the noise of your vibrator still buzzing against the mattress next to you, taunting you. You reach to turn it off, sitting up and putting your hair into a makeshift bun. You stare with narrowed eyes at the shadowed outline of the sparkly pink atrocity of a Secret Santa gift. It was given as a joke to make you blush. Your friends like to tease you for your innocence. It’s not something you ever would have bought for yourself. You’d blushed furiously and everyone laughed. It was addictive for the first few weeks, being able to explore your own pleasure. But now. Now, it doesn’t feel enough. Doesn’t feel as good. As big. As filling.

It’s a quick thought, a fleeting thought. A memory that makes your cheeks flush and your eyes close in embarrassment. Remus, fresh out of the shower, two seconds away from closing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t locked the door. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk in on him. You’d been half asleep, bursting for a pee, and he hadn’t locked the door. Even worse, you hadn’t meant to look. But he was wide eyed and frozen, and your fight or flight had you trying to assess every part of the situation. And his nakedness was a large part of the situation.

You’re not proud of it. But you’d looked. And you liked what you saw.

And now.

Well, now, you can’t stop thinking about it. About Remus. Kind Remus who makes you tea on cold mornings, puts your pyjamas in the dryer for you when you get out of the shower, who cooks you dinner and leaves it in the oven when you work the late shift at the café down the road. He’s kind and attentive and always there to lend a helping hand. You feel silly as you clamber off your bed, knowing there’s a high likelihood that Remus will tell you you’ve taken his kindness to its boundaries.

Your feet pad quietly down the hallway of your shared flat. The under counter lights in the open plan kitchen at the end of the hall illuminate the space enough to see. Remus’ door is closed, but you twist the handle and push, wincing when it lets out an annoying squeal. Remus rouses at the sound, squinting sleepily at you as he turns. He lets out a breath, sits up on his elbow and pulls back his blanket to offer you the space beside him.

It’s not the first time you’ve climbed into bed with Remus, but you still shift nervously on your feet, biting at your lip.

“You okay, love?” Remus asks, voice deep and croaky.

It makes you flustered in your reply. Voice quiet, unsure, “Can’t sleep.”

Remus nods, reiterates pulling back the blanket to make room for you. You cross one leg over the other in front of you, fiddling with the metal daisy chain ring on your middle finger. Remus got you it when you got into university last year. It’s your favourite piece of jewellery you own, overpriced tennis bracelet from your overcompensating parents be damned. He catches your nervous tic and his eyes narrow, his head tilts, messy hair flopping sideways with the movement. There’s a slight stubble on his chin from running late this morning and skipping his daily shave and he’s sans pyjama top, having clearly also felt the heat.

He sits up fully and the blanket pools around his waist. His skin glows in the low light of the moon through the window beside his bed. He’s beautiful. This you’ve always known. Now, it’s tenfold because you’ve seen all of him. And all of him is what you want, in this moment. Your face is flames as you edge closer until you’re hovering beside his bed.

“Have you tried warm milk?” Remus asks, his voice almost teasing.

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, trying to sus you out. He knows. He must know something. You’re hardly being subtle. Remus’ lips twitch in a smile when you squeeze your legs together in front of you, again, lip between your teeth, eyes watery.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice breathy.

He wants you to say it. But you can’t. You won’t.

“Rem, please,” You whine, “I’ve tried everything.”

His hand reaches for yours, pulls you until you’re straddling him. His lips are a centimetre from yours, hot breath fanning out over your mouth. You press down hard against him, lips pouted. He doesn’t let up, just raises his eyebrows. A question. What have you tried?

“I couldn’t get the angle right with my vibrator,” You whisper, cheeks bright red and warm to the touch, where Remus’ thumb is gently rubbing back and forth, fingers cupping your wobbling jaw, “Then the thingy Marlene got me wasn’t-“ You huff.

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

He’s on you in a second. Lips and tongue and teeth, so hot and heavy it knocks the breath from you. His hands fist the thin material of your shorts, at your waist and you bend into him, hands running up his sides, over his shoulders, into the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s hard beneath the flannel of his pyjama bottoms. You can feel it against the crease of your thigh. It makes you whine into his mouth, shifting until you’re perfectly aligned over him. His grip focusses on your arse cheeks when you grind down, a bruising grip that you relish in.

His hands push you forward, you pull yourself back. His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down your neck. Your head tilts back, panting for breath, lost in the pleasure. Your stomach tightens the harder his grip gets, the harder you press down, the faster you move. You feel like a seedy teenager, dry humping yourself against him. Remus’ teeth nip at your collarbone, only to soothe over it with his tongue. You whine again, making your impatience known, but Remus doesn’t speed up.

He looks up, lips mouthing at the underside of your chin until you tilt your head back up to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes hooded, lips curved into a sinful smirk.

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

You push down harder in response. Remus grabs your hips, stills you. You pout, doe eyes watery. Remus tuts, shakes his head, “You want my help, we do it my way.”

He shifts until you’re lying beneath him, legs hiked up around his waist. He doesn’t waste time in stripping you. Your shirt, then your shorts, your panties following. He throws them across the room, and they fall into the shadows of his darkened room. You’re glad they’re gone. Your body feels like it’s burning up under his touch, featherlight as he traces the goosebumps across your skin. He presses kisses in the wake of his fingertips, to your collarbones, your chest, the tops of your breasts, your stomach, navel.

His lips are warm, wet, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. You’re high strung, keening, and needy. He comes back to face level, and you grumble, deep in your throat. So close. He was so close to where you need him. He’s smug. You’re about to protest when he slides a finger into you. Your mouth opens, head pushing back into the pillow. His fingers are long, but slender, and it’s not long before he adds another. Your back arches, eyes closing. The minute you close your eyes, Remus stops. You look up, furious, to find him smirking something evil down at you.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He whispers, nose bumping yours.

You comply. Remus resumes, fingers pumping steadily in and out. When he’s knuckle deep, he curls them and your body jerks in response. It’s too much and not enough, a dizzying euphoria of Remus’ casual confidence and his skilful fingers. His thumb brushes your clit gently, the bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. You moan his name, thighs squeezing against his hips where they’re splayed open. It urges him on, he whispers quiet encouragements – good girl, that’s it sweetheart, you’re so wet for me – and you continue to writhe beneath him.

“Rem,” You gasp, hand encircling the wrist that’s pumping in and out of you, “Need you.”

“Soon,” He promises softly, lips pressing to the swell of your breast, teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, “Want you to come on my fingers first.”

His thumb moves in tighter circles, his fingers curl deeper, move faster. He adds a third, the stretch burns but in the best way. Your jaw opens on its own accord, a string of moans emitting from your throat, and you arch into Remus. His eyes meet yours, blazing with lust.

“C’mon, baby,” He urges, voice sinfully deep, demanding. “Come for me.”

You clench around his fingers, and he groans as you gush around his hand, voice high pitched, your grip on his shoulders vice like. He’s surprised you don’t snap in two with how high your back arches. His fingers pump you through the rush in your veins, his quiet reassurances blacked out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Your head spins and you see white as the orgasm you’ve been chasing for what must be hours by now crashes over you. You babble nonsense, buck against Remus’ fingers, mouth open, eyes wide, back arched and head pushed violently into the pillow beneath you.

Remus hovers over you when your breathing evens, eye’s a little less clouded, and his usual concerned look on his face. You smile dopily up at him, eyes bright.

“Good?” He asks.

It’s a double ended question – you good? Was that good?

You nod.

“More.” You whine, attempting to pull him closer with your legs around his waist.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs lightly, head bending down to peck your smiling lips gently.

You nod in agreement, head tilted as you look up at him, “I’m blaming you.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

He shimmies his pyjamas off, kicks them off the end of the bed, and comes back to crowd your space, again. Hard, he’s much bigger than you saw from Shower-Gate. Your mouth waters as his hand wraps around his dick, pumping a few times before looking back to you. His face softens when he notices your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

“That’s,” You sigh, embarrassed, “That’s not going to fit, Rem.”

Remus laughs, the apples of his cheeks rounding out, his teeth appearing from behind his lips. His head hangs over your shoulder and you hide in his hair, mortified. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight runs softly up and down your thigh. You groan to show your mortification, heels digging into Remus’ tail bone to try kill his laughter.

“Rem,” You protest, letting a chuckle of your own slip.

Remus looks up, eyes soft, lips pressed together to stop his laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I’m not laughing at you. No one’s ever said that before, you just caught me by surprise.”

You giggle, squeezing his waist with your thighs, “They’ve definitely thought it.”

Remus shakes his head, “We don’t have to.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “I want to. I really want to.”

He smiles, leans in to kiss you. When he pulls away to pump himself again, you let out a low breath. He brushes the tip against your folds, wet and puffy, a couple times before he pushes in slowly. He groans, you moan. You’re tight, fitting around him like perfection. He goes slow until he’s buried to the hilt. You allow yourself to get used to the feeling, whimpering softly when his thumb comes to circle your clit again, working you up.

“That’s it, baby,” He speaks softly, so softly, and you moan.

He pulls back, pushes back in. Takes it slow. Allows you to adjust.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need the raw pent-up aggression you’ve seen Remus show pervs at bars when they touch you inappropriately. You need angry Remus, who threw a book at the mantle place when your parents missed another birthday. You need the Remus who tries so hard to hide the aggressive side of him but can never fully rid himself of his primal urges, of that white hot fury and determination.

“More,” You breathe, “Faster. Harder. I need more, Rem. Please.”

You’re babbling, begging. But Remus complies. He snaps his hips forward and you all but scream. He groans, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s attentive, hips attacking your pelvis. His wooden headboard slams against the wall, your hand reaching up to hold on and stop you from sliding further up the bed. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you up, closer to him. He feels deeper at the new angle, hips battering into yours. He’s relentless, hitting every spot you need.

You’re babbling nonsense, but so is Remus. Words of encouragement, words that tell you how good you’re taking all of him, how tight you are, how perfect you are. You’re meeting his every thrust, hips grinding against him, the stubble creating friction that tightens the coil in your stomach.

Remus attaches his lips to your shoulder, biting down as he pounds harder against you. You say his name like a mantra, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of him, all over, everywhere, filling, stretching, pounding.

“Rem,” You whine – so close. So, so close – “Come in me.”

Remus’ head snaps up, pupils blown, mouth hung open. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter, “What?”

“Pill. Just,” You gasp when he hits that spot, “Come in me. Please. Wanna feel it.”

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

He’s relentless, sweat dripping from his forehead, he releases your waist, hikes your thigh up over his shoulder, you scream. He urges you, tells you sweet things, details how he’s going to fill you up, bites the skin of your calf. His other hand reaches down, draws tight circles that have you seeing stars. You scream his name, loud enough for the entire street to hear, using the leverage on his shoulder to lift your lower back off the bed.

The feeling is dizzying, all consuming. It’s feverish, frantic, a wild chase to the end.

You clench, he hits the right spot, the sting of his teeth on your calf emulates up your leg, the stomach muscles holding you up clench, and he calls you baby, all at the right time. You see white. It feels like your entire body explodes, lights on fire, crashes and burns. You convulse, twitching and screaming, broken words and moans of his names, clenched vice-like around him.

You’re begging. Begging him to follow, to finish in you, even in your pleasure.

You’re still floating, but coherent enough, when Remus grows sloppy, uncoordinated, drops your leg from his shoulder, falls forward, hands at your sides to hold himself up. He jerks, groans, his head falls into your shoulder, and you whine, happily, dopily, when you feel the white-hot spurts of his come against your walls.

He’s breathing heavily, both your bodies slicked with sweat. He drops his weight onto you, and you welcome him happily. Your legs wrap around his lower back, you both wince with the movement. You can feel the slickness between you both, the way he’s dripping out of you. But you’re comfortable, lips pressed to his damp hair. You trace shapes on his back until he comes to, pushing up to press his lips to yours.

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

He gets up to leave and you whine, “Don’t go.”

Remus chuckles, “Just going to get a warm cloth. Be back.”

You allow him that, grateful he had the idea. You hear him running the tap in the bathroom and he returns with a warm cloth. He’s gentle when he wipes you clear. You wince and flinch, blushing when Remus presses gentle kisses to your thighs as he works. He whispers softly between kisses how pretty you are, how well you did.

He discards the cloth in the wash basket by his door and returns to the bed.

He groans as he settles, holding his arm out for you to fall into him. You do so, swinging a leg over his thighs. It’s then that you realise you’re both still very naked, and your shyness returns. Remus traces shapes on your arm, tucking his head over yours, lips to the crown of your head.

“I can hear your cute little brain running laps, you know.” Remus teases.

You roll your eyes, push your face further into his neck.

“I just came to you in the middle of the night for sex,” the post coital dread sets in tenfold, despite feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks, “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

You feel Remus shrug, “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“But-“

“Get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” He assures you, pulling the blanket further up your naked bodies.

You concede, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips, “Okay.”

He pulls you closer, settles in. You allow sleep to wash over you, let the relaxation in your bones pull you under. It’s a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep, wrapped in Remus’ arms.

Your daily dose of cat memes

Would you be open to a one shot where Eddie scares the reader on Halloween and they slip and get super scared of him and run and hide so he has to comfort her a bunch?

Little subby reader getting scared by big mean Eds. .

CW: little scary but not rlly, lots of pet names , little reader , fem reader, Daddy!Eddie , fluffy , wrote this pretty fast but it's cute

Masterlist

-

You see , what Eddie loved about you was how small and vulnerable you were around him. You were his soft spot. He had the inherent urge to take care of you, protect you against the big mean world that he knows exists out there.

But…he’s still Eddie. He’s still a little sadistic (which you love), and he loves when he can make you cry , because then you reach out for him even more. Spooky season is his favorite, and you like it too. But you like the cute ghosts and pumpkins and sweaters and blankies. Eddie likes the scary movies and stories and haunting and blood.

And he had this idea, just a small one, to play a scary joke on you. Both for his thrill and yours, and maybe he could even get you to enjoy the fear a little, maybe even find it funny.

So, one dark October night, Eddie comes up with his plan.

“shit baby, I forgot I need to get candy for Hellfire tomorrow. i told them i’d treat them,” Eddie says, moving his arm from around where it was holding you on the couch.

You shift sleepily out of his hold. “Oh, okay Eds we can go,” you say , moving to put on your ghost slippers.

He quickly stops you. “No no baby, I can just go really fast. You stay and rest. I’ll be right back.”

Your eyebrows knit together. You don’t like being left alone at night. You know you’d be safe, but you always feel better when Eddie is around. Your head falls some as you twiddle your thumbs together.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie starts, tipping your head up by your chin to look at him. “Can you be a big girl for me? Stay home alone just for a few minutes?” Eddie asks, using his charming Daddy voice on you, knowing it pulls on your heart strings.

You breathe in deeply. You want to be good for him, make him proud. You can do it, just a few minutes while he’s gone. You nod and he kisses your forehead.

He’s smiling giddily, and has to hold himself back from showing his excitement. “Good girl,” he praises. “I love you. I’ll be right back, and maybe i’ll bring you a little treat.”

He holds your face and plants a wet kiss on your lips before grabbing his keys and wallet, and heading out the trailer door. You get up to make sure it’s locked behind him, just double checking before you sit back on the couch and focus on the tv.

You’re fine at first, knowing he’ll be back fast, and everything is okay. It’s not even that late .

Ten minutes pass and you start to feel a little more nervous, eyes constantly flitting to the door, waiting for Eddie to walk through and relieve you of your nerves.

But what you don’t see is Eddie outside, Michael Myers mask in hand as he creeps along the side of the trailer. He had started the van and drove forward, knowing you’d wait to hear him leave, but he turned the lights off and parked right away, counting the minutes before he’d come scare you.

He tries to tread his boots lightly, not crunching the gravel outside too loudly so you didn’t expect anything.

He creeps up to be just under the window that sits behind the couch in the living room, just barely being able to see the outline of your head. You look so small and innocent. So sweet, cuddled into the blanket he left you in. Had you even moved? Probably not, you’re probably just waiting for him to arrive home.

His heart thumps as he raises his hand and knocks , one two three times on the window, before ducking back down out of sight.

You heard the knocks, your head immediately turning back to the dark window behind you. Your heart quickens, scared. Maybe you were imagining it. It wasn’t real.

You try to focus again on the movie, but you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, your adrenaline rising.

…You heard it before you saw it- the rattling of the front door. It was like the entire world had stopped. It was too soon for Eddie to be home so you knew it wasn’t him.

The door rattles again, harder.

Someone was trying to get in.

Youre frozen in place as tears start to prick in your eyes. You don’t know what to do, where to go.

BANG

Something hit the door, maybe someone trying to force it open, and you yelp a scream, immediately putting a hand over your mouth trying to silence yourself. You don’t want the intruder to know you’re here.

You try and calm your breathing, staring at the locked door before deciding it best to go hide.

But as you slowly got up to creep toward the bedroom- you saw it.

A man’s face looking in at you from the back window.

You scream, running to the bedroom and locking the door, crying and shaking. You run to Eddies closet, closing it immediately and locking the door as you try to bury yourself behind clothes. You are a shaking, crying, trembling mess as you prepared yourself for the worst.

You had seen it, the man outside the window in the black of night. Was he holding something? You can’t remember but it doesn’t matter because Eddie isn’t home, and what if he comes home and the man attacks him or or-

You hear the front door open. How? How did they get in, you know you locked it, you were sure.

Your tears can’t stop falling, you’re practically hyperventilating.

“Baby? Baby where are you?” You hear Eddie’s voice call, but youre still terrified, not trusting it was him, so you remain in the closet.

Eddie searches the living room, his smile of satisfaction slowly turning into a worried look as he realizes he might’ve gone too far. He races through the hallway, seeing the discarded blankie of yours on the ground outside of the bedroom.

He runs for bedroom door and tries to open it but it was locked from the inside. His heart drops, you must be terrified.

“Baby, it’s just me! Open the door please I promise you’re okay. It’s okay,” he calls to you, praying you were still inside and didn’t manage to run out.

“J-just you?” You call out weakly from the cracked open closet door.

“Just me . Just me, sweetheart” he tries to reassure you. He can tell by the higher pitch in your voice that you’ve slipped even further than before he left.

“If it’s you…den What’s our safe word?” You ask, trying to make sure it’s really him.

He chuckles. “Mayo, Mayo baby . Mayo like mayonnaise.”

You sigh in relief, getting up on shaky legs to walk and open the door for him. He looks at you and his expression drops upon seeing how sad and small you are, tears streaking your red face.

You reach up and hug him immediately. “So so scared Daddy there was a -“ you start crying again, choking some on your words as Eddie guides you toward the bed. “A man outside and he-he tried to come in and get me and-“

but that’s when you see the mask in Eddie’s hand. Your heart drops. Your eyes blow open and breathing stops as you put the pieces together.

You instantly recoil away from him.

“Baby I’m so sorry I didn’t think you would get so upset,” Eddie immediately apologizes, reaching his hands toward you. But you back away even more toward the headboard of the bed, clutching a pillow to you.

Your tears come out even faster now. “I-I was so scared,” you cry, your voice small as you try and hide from him.

His heart breaks , regret filling his veins as he realizes what he’s done. He knew you were sensitive and he let his own stupid prank hurt you. It’s the last thing he wanted to do.

“I’m so fucking sorry baby,” He repeats, leaning forward and wrapping his strong arms around you. You let your head fall into his chest, breathing choppy as you try and calm your emotions down. “You’re safe baby, you’re safe,” Eddie coos.

“But you were trying to get me,” you whine, small and vulnerable.

He rubs your back. “i was being stupid and pulling a prank. I should’ve known it would scare you baby,” he says.

You nod into him and he squeezes you tighter. Your little sniffles make his heart ache. He kisses the top of your head before pulling back from you to look at your cute face.

“Hey,” he tries to smile at you softly, lifting a hand to rub your cheek. “Just me, little one, just me.”

You look up at him, all wet eyes and innocence. You gaze at him as if he put the stars in the sky himself, because when you slip like this, start to feel little and scared, he’s your light.

Your bottom lip is jutted out into a little pout and fuck he thinks youre just so cute. He kisses your cheek and it makes you smile, so he kisses the other. You start to giggle as he peppers kisses all over your face, making louder and louder obnoxious noises as he does so.

“I’m gonna eat this cute little face” he says, pretending to take bites out of your cheeks.

“No! Eddieeee!” you giggle, pretending to push him away. He keeps peppering you with kisses, also letting his hands roam to tickle your sides. Before you know it you’re a soft giggly mess laying on the bed with Eddie fully on top of you.

Your giggling calms down as you look up at him. He’s so pretty, so soft and kind to you. “I’m sorry baby, really,” he apologizes again, moving hair out of your face.

“I forgive you Eddie bear,” you smile, the lilt in your voice making it singsongy. “But never again please!!”

“Never again baby love,” He agrees and kisses your lips before laying on you fully.

You hum at the feeling. “I love when you lay on me. Feels so good,” you mumble under him, appreciating his weight.

He kisses your chest through your jacket. “I’ll be your personal blankie always,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight.

You let out a puff of air as he squeezes you, and wrap your arms around him. “My Eddie bear,” you mumble, letting your eyes close and breathe him in. Safe. Always safe with him.

His cheeks heat up. He loves that you call him that nickname so much. He nuzzles his head into you some more. “I love you baby. I’ll protect you. Always.”

And you smile knowing that it’s true, he’ll always protect you. Even if it’s from himself.

damn ok lake superior