𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒂

It is a weirdly peaceful feeling, standing in your kitchen at one in the morning, dishwasher running, smoking a joint and hanging up the laundry. Your brain finally harmonising with the world around, the quiet of the night calming you. It feels like flowing in a natural state, with nobody expecting anything from you.

There is a quick flash of guilt. Should you miss him more? Is it bad that you feel so complete on your own? But maybe it is one of the reasons why you are still in this relationship, whatever it is. That you don't need him to be happy. That you don't want to chain him to this home and neither does he.

And you do miss him. You miss his heartbeat at night, you miss his warmth and his voice and the little ways he shows how he feels. He makes your life easier without making you feel like you depend on it. You could fix the sink. And you will, if he can't come home soon. But you can live with it for a few more days and when he is here, you will look at him without shame when he rolls up his sleeves and grabs the tools. You love watching him work, the way his hands move, the same strength he uses when he lifts you up.

Shit, now you really miss him. One of the few men who can make you feel small, who doesn't give you the unspoken impression that you are too fat, too much. So you do the only reasonable thing. Taking a selfie with your dress dangerously low, smoke escaping your lips and eyes half closed.

/Miss you/ is all you write when you send it, nothing else to add. You don't check if he read it, you know he will, when he is safe and alone.

What you don't expect is a text back a few minutes later, an unfocused picture of his hand grabbing his bulge.

/Bloody hell, you should be sleeping. ETA in 5h, get some rest. You'll need it/

reader and eddie are having a silly argument debate, and you really wanna win. so what does it hurt if you flash your tits at him and… oh, what was eddie talking about again?

“Elsie was a divine caster, not a mage! There is a huge difference.”

Eddie leans back in your bed like a jerk, dark tattoos and pale skin a complete contrast to your blue sheets. He looks imposing against ditsy flower stitching, but he’s at home here. He makes himself comfortable, and if he didn’t you’d force him to.

“Elsie wasn’t a divine caster,” you disagree, kneeling on the floor by your bed with a mountain of unpaired socks beside you, “she never went through the trials. That makes her a simple mage. She would’ve had to submit under the yielded light–”

“Shut up about the yielded light, you don’t even care about that stuff, you just wanna be right.” He grins at you, jaw soft as he slips down into your pillows, bringing a throw cushion against his chest. “You know the yielded light thing doesn’t matter, because Sir Cane was a divine caster and he was from Tolberon.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

You bundle what’s left of the unpaired socks back into the tote bag they’re mustering in and close the sock drawer of your bedside table. Eddie’s grinning ‘cos he knows he’s winning the debate and it’s pissing you off because The Anglebird is your favourite book, and not his, and he doesn’t have to be right about everything. “He didn’t need to submit because he wasn’t actually a divine caster, they just didn’t have a word for it in Tolberon, and it’s the same with Elsie. She could have been one, but she hasn’t gone through any of the basic trials.”

“It’s just a title thing. This is like– baby, you’re acting like the government.”

You aren’t gonna win this little argument because Eddie’s a stickler for semantics, but you should. You’re right. You’re sick of being not right and you want him to say it, and you know you have certain powers over your boyfriend. You’d quite like to stretch all demure and sleek like a house cat in the sun until he’s caught sight of the small of your back, but you’re not, like, manipulative.

You put on a fake effect, raising your brows. “Oh, gosh, is it hot in here?” you ask dramatically.

“Huh?”

“I am just overheating like this. Would you– do you mind?” you ask, folding your elbow down into the bottom of your shirt and pulling it upwards, arching into the movement as the fabric slips up your shoulders. With a quick tug, you pull it off of your neck and settle, still kneeling, chest flush with excitement while his eyes go steady on your naked skin. “That’s better.”

“Yeah.”

You drop your shirt on the ground and look down at your chest. Naked chest. No need for a bra so close to bed time. “Oh, shoot, sorry, baby. Indecent exposure. I forgot I wasn’t wearing a vest under here.”

“What do you want?” he asks, eyes warm with affection and a very obvious second emotion as you cross your arms gently over your chest.

You lean a bit into the act. Just softly. Going all hushed and sweet like he likes, not a lie, but not usually a version of yourself you embody with the lights on. “I don’t want anything, Ed, I’m just overheating.” You offer a sad little smile you know he wants to kiss. “Do you understand what I’m saying, though? Divine caster might be a title, but it’s one you have to earn. Elsie’s a super powerful mage, but–”

“Baby, you’re right.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve thought about the whole thing from your perspective as we’ve been talking and Elsie really should’ve had to go through the tribulations of a traditional caster before I give her the title,” he says, all in one breath, his gaze very carefully set in the midpoint between your face and your chest.

You cup the skin where chest so obviously becomes a swell of fat and try not to boast. “You really think so?”

“I barely know what we’re talking about, if I’m honest.” He swallows obviously. You know it is not for show. “I can’t think straight.”

“If Elsie–”

“You’re so perfect,” he says, hiking on his elbows. “Are you coming up here? Please, stop kneeling on the floor. Angel. Please.”

Love, Death + Robots - Ice stamps! (specifically of oxo)

stamps made by me, border by @pink-purge, gifs by @schwarzfeesecond.

free to use w/o credit, but pls tell me if using!!

So uhh... y'all mouthwashing fans still exist...been here since October 2024...

And still here...