#I NEED TO DROWN ALL MY RESPONSIBILITIES SO I CAN PLAY PRETEND.

[ghostzzy]

every day i post about how i don't want to work. well. today,

[blurboki]

✩ ≫ GIVING STRAYKIDS HEAD WHILE HE’S LIVE

including. ot8 | pairing. skz x fem! reader | genre. smut - MINORS DNI | warnings. blowjob/handjob (m. rec), mentions of begging, mentions of a breeding kink, voyeurism, nicknames, mentions of using toys, humiliation, cum-eating, facial (f. rec), hair pulling, dubcon, felix cums inside, degradation, overstimulation, gagging, deep-throating, d/s dynamics

authors note. ty for requesting! i hope you don’t mind how wild i got with this.. seungmin’s made me feral (please tell me if i missed anything in the warnings!!)

CHAN :

would be so smiley n cute :((

until you kneel down and the realization hits

you can see his expressive eyes go “oh? oh.” in five second flat

the way you’re looking up at him? he’s twitching in his pants, trying his hardest to pay attention to chan’s room

definitely says something like: “alright! let’s get onto the next song, yeah?” while furiously turning up the volume to drown out his soft huffs of breath, plump lips parted to exhale deeply

the way he utterly shudders when you lick from his shaft all the way up to his leaking head has the dreamiest sigh falling from your mouth

the way you’re testing his patience makes him want to fuck you silly 🙈🙈

plays it off as if he was adjusting in his chair, meek smile giving away none of your naughtiness

once you start taking him into your mouth though, he reaches a hand to your hair, forcing you to down him

squeezes his eyes shut from the feeling of your throat swallowing him alongside the toe-curling whine you whimpered in response

most likely pretended to yawn to conceal his fucked-out face and the obscene sound of you gagging on him, babydoll eyes welling with tears

omg the way he looks down at you after that ?admiring your smudged mascara and the drool coating your lips and chin ?? pls eat me sir

“unfortunately, that’ll be the last song for this live, thank you Stay for joining me today..” he says, nonchalantly thumbing at your bottom lip to wipe the residue sitting there

legs spread and cock flushed against his abdomen, you come to realize rather quickly that you got yourself into something dangerous…

MINHO :

he’d prob be doing a live in the meeting room when you arrive, gazing at you pushing chairs out of the way to make him think you’re planning to sit down

till you settle between his legs and the realization dawns

has the most attractive, challenging stare ever watching you go to town

tbh minho is fucking terrifying with his self control in and outside of the bedroom

like he’d be able to answer questions and act completely normal despite his dick being halfway down your throat

pretends to laugh at a comment when instead he reached a hand under and toyed with your clit, gathering your wetness on two fingers to smear on the side of your lips

what he was laughing at? how pathetic you sounded mewling and dripping with need as if you weren’t the one who decided to give him head rn

would def end the live a tad bit early, finally succumbing to the handjob you provided where he came all over your face with the sluttiest moan

10/10 would bend you over and fuck you on the table after

10/10 would keep your legs out of business for a good five to six days (i stand by my claim)

CHANGBIN :

binnie is so fucking transparent idek if he could hide it

but like, he makes weird noises anyways so tbh stay probably wouldn’t bat an eye

sooo needy

gently grabs your chin while you kitty lick his mushroom tip and gives you most pleading stare

if he could’ve telepathically communicated, he would definitely been begging

funny considering how he basically bred you into the mattress the night before , right?

you resort to kissing his swollen cock, ensuring he’s watching when you collect his beading precum on a finger, bringing it up to your lips

to say he held back a moan doesn’t even cut it, poor baby might’ve bit his tongue off atp from your adorable eye contact and the mere image alone

gets frantic enough he blasts gods menu full volume and “suddenly” gets a text from Hyunjin saying he “needs to go”

a.k.a needs to blow

dude absolutely explodes

his moans are the cutest by far >>>

cums all over your face muttering soft “please please please” over and over while his fat cock basically ropes messy strings

he swore he’s never came harder in his life

andddd that’s how you got introduced to edging changbin!!!

jk, it just fueled your obsession with it further ;)

HYUNJIN :

prob the cutest of them all when you give him head under the table

he just feels so good and loved from your attention and the pleasure

has the dreamiest of smiles the entire time despite the music being obnoxiously loud to hide the sound

stays love this live bc of how cute he looked the entire time

lots conspired that he was drunk or smthn bc of how smiley he was, cheeks dusted pink

pretended to drop something so he could groan under the table, thigh twitching and abs tightening as he approached his orgasm

definitely grabs your head before he came, brows slightly knit and lips parted as he met your eyes

so fucking sweet after he cums, petting your head and running a light hand on your cheek where his cum smears

pops his thumb in your mouth, softly wiping your bottom lip of his essence

he’s literally delighted i cannot make this up

totally nonchalant apart from groaning under the table which he hid from view

expect either the softest or hardest sex afterwards

like you’re going to either be carried because your legs are out of commission or because he’s feeling romantic :((

HAN :

.. stay are prob getting an equally good treat too

and no they don’t know what was going on, they just know how from a certain timestamp in his most recent live his voice got a whole lot more attractive

expect a sudden raspy pitch, clicking his tongue casually as if his partner wasn’t spoiling him

on any other day he’d be stupidly whiny, crying from the pleasure you provided

today, however, he just let himself dissolve in the ecstasy, breathing in the fresh air on cloud 9

there were some speculations from stay watching, but it only got as far as that

scary enough, he doesn’t make a sound, casually carrying out conversation and answering questions like nothing

that is until you get impatient, pressing hot kisses all over and speeding up the movement of your hand as you fist him, pretty eyes fixating on his face

aha. you see him slightly wince, bidding farewell quickly with a few over-exaggerated poses and blown kisses

stifles a groan as he approached his high, tracing the corner of your lips as he grumbles an excessively attractive:

“now stick your tongue out, ‘don’t what you missing a drop.”

then proceeds to cum all over your lips n mouth, thumbing away some of his residue there

“you’re so messy, bunny, ‘have to teach you some manners, hm?”

FELIX :

he gets so cocky

and it’s one of the hottest things on the planet

watches you through half-lidded eyes as you unbutton his jeans, taking him into your mouth

i feel like no matter how hard you try to rile him up, it just makes him cockier and gives him a visible ego boost

like, not a ‘thinking with my dick only’ type of ego boost, more of a ‘why tf aren’t you reacting rn, please fuck me already at this point’ sort of ego boost

this man most likely turn off the music just to play it risky, forcing you down on his dick when you get too loud

reads comments as you literally deep throat him, eyes tearing up with how he keeps bumping the back of your throat

it’s insane

lifts a brow daringly as he reads a particular comment and you swear you would’ve moaned so fucking loud if it weren’t for him cruelly shoving fingers into your mouth as you fisted him with a hand

breathily sighs as you work faster, blinking a bit slower and hesitating with his answers—a telltale sign he’s close

definitely ends the live earlier, quickly taking off your bottoms to pull you onto his lap and paint your cunt white

voices the most guttural groan, adams apple bobbing as he fills you so full of him

he’s convinced there is absolutely nothing he loves more than stuffing your pussy, nothing

SEUNGMIN :

i will sit in the grave believing seungmin is one of the most god-teir men alive when it comes to head

another rbf (resting bitch face) king btw!!

meanest but also nicest ?? i can’t explain take this how you want

prob sings a song while you suck him off i cannot😭😭

you’d most likely be more affected than he is (or you just can’t tell), bc you’ll be a moaning mess from how nonchalantly he’s already shoved two fingers inside your cunt, guiding your head into a steady rhythm with a spare hand

smiles every time you mewl on his cock, hungrily watching your hips stutter while his fingers curl and rub your pussy sooo good

lmao i bet he hits a high note when you cream(and when he cums too), drowning out the desperate cries you sob from his lap

ends the live without even a trace of what happened, pulling your hair roughly so you meet his eyes, tears freely rolling down your cheeks

“you wanted this so don’t act like you didn’t. open.” he instructs, and you obediently open your mouth for him, showing him your tongue and lips painted with his cum

“swallow.”

his face when you swallow oml he loves seeing his baby behave

mumbles quiet “good girl”’s when you take his fingers coated in your juices into your mouth

honestly.. i could see him buzzing your puffy clit w a bullet vibrator afterwards while you sit on his dick, cooing as you fall apart on top of him, telling you it’s a “reward” while you’re overstimulated and sensitive beyond belief

JEONGIN :

kind of like hyunjin with his unpredictability, he’s either stone cold or an innocent baby

today, however, he was definitely needy, looking adorably confused when you sauntered through the doorway

gasps when you slip under the desk, eyes turning into round saucers as you carefully rid him of his pants then boxers

has to pause on multiple occasions to pull himself together, occasionally turning his head away from the camera to express the overwhelming feeling of your tongue

leaks a quiet, oh so quiet whine in the midst of laughing at a comment

poor bub gets an army of comments asking if he’s feeling sick from how flushed he is

cutie can’t admit how amazing you make him feel 🤭

ends the live abruptly, literally only thinking about cumming in your mouth

desperate AF when he starts mumbling, pulling you off of him to stick out your tongue as he frantically fists his dick, beads of pre-cum decorating the swollen tip

“oh god oh god oh god— cumming, ‘gonna cum, in your mouth? baby please please wanna cum in your mouth— yeah just like that, good girl- fuck-“ is just an example of his barely intelligible moaning

trust that he came hard, strings of apologies falling off his pink lips at the mess he made of your face

oml if you keep sucking him off afterwards?? overstimulated innie is the cutest thing ever

expect lots of begging and neediness 😍

blurboki, july 2023 ©

[munsonthings86]

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.7. MY PERSON

“today he is sitting across from a mother and kid. he is thankful that they chose the other wall to sit against, and not his seat by the bookshelf, but he’s a little unsure what to do himself, for once not alone in the waiting room. it’s not as if he ever does anything alone, but he doesn’t feel like he can drown in his own thoughts and curiosities. instead, he’s been sneaking glances towards them. if a mother and her kid are waiting outside, who are they waiting for? he wants to know what their lives are like. what happened that brought them here? what is the mother thinking right now? does she blame herself for whoever she’s waiting for? he needs to stop assuming things. he tries to focus on the music instead. it’s much different from songs he’s used to hearing, in a good way. it makes him wonder, is this what her usual playlist is like? is she queuing up songs for him? or maybe she plays specific songs for all her patients. this particular song is quite universal: “i’d like to walk around in your mind someday." that was something everyone wished they could do. maybe she knows that this mother waits outside the door every therapy appointment, and plays music that she likes, "i’d like to walk all over the things you say to me." the sound of a doorknob twisting interrupts his thoughts, and he can’t help but look up as they walk out the door. they’re younger than he would have expected, but their eyes look aged and tired; so do his. "i'd turn away the sad impossibility of your smile.”

“so, you decided to come back?” she’s the one who speaks first this time, and it’s almost more venomous than the words he first spoke to her upon their meeting last week. the multiple implications underlying the sentence are obvious to both of them, cutting through the air and only leaving silence behind.

he can only nod awkwardly, unsure of what he could possibly say back in response to the rightful accusation. he sits down stiffly onto her couch like he did before, around a week ago, waiting for her to sit across from him.

‘you decided to finally text back? did you decide you didn’t want to actually abandon me again? did you miss me like i missed you?’

she’s holding back every urge to ask him why he hasn’t talked to her until just now. her thoughts quickly turn from angry to petty claims. 

she feels like shit as soon as she says it, already wishing to take back the only six words she’s said to him today. six words and she’s already fucked up. it feels nearly impossible for her to maintain a stoic face and pretend like nothing’s wrong. she hopes that if she can remain a professional pillar between the two of them, acting like there weren't actually multiple meanings to her question, they can both look past it. she needs to put him before her own feelings of anger, hurt, obsession, whatever the fuck they were. she’ll deal with herself later, she needs to be here for him first, as a therapist, not as herself.

“what’s up? are you thinking of coming in regularly or just whenever you need it?” she asks, pulling her computer from the table next to her into her lap as she sits down. 

he blinks once, “i want to come in regularly. like i told you before, i want to see you. and if that means forcing you to see me for just an hour every week, i’ll take it.”

‘oh for fuck’s sake.’

her fingers freeze over her keyboard, looking up at him. he was making this incredibly difficult and she was so weak when it came to him, she couldn’t even keep her own word. she couldn’t understand his duality, or the reason behind his actions. was there even any reasoning? he was always so calm and collected, calculating each and every one of his actions; he had to have a reason for ghosting her and then acting like he cared. unless he didn’t understand his own feelings, because hell if she did.

“okay,” she chooses to say, not addressing the statement nor blatantly ignoring it. she averts her eyes back to her computer screen. it was blank, deride of any thoughts. she knows his charcoal black eyes are still on her, and they weigh heavy on her. she can barely think, feeling vulnerable under his gaze as if he can see right through her. he’s the patient here, she’s the one who should leading him through the session, and yet he’s still commanding the room.

she tries her best to stand back up to him, “well, if you have anything on your mind you wanted to talk about in particular today, we can start with that. or we can pick up where we left off last week, with you just trying to update me on what’s currently going on in your life. this is your time, so just tell me what you want.”

he takes a moment to respond, thinking about what’s pressing on his mind most at the moment, “i do have something i want to talk about, but it loops back in to what’s been going on recently as well.” he waits for her to stop typing, for her eyes to flick back up to meet his before he keeps going, “i told you last week about the day how getting benched has messed with me. i tried to write down everything that was stressing me out like you said to, which helped a bit but it really only made me more aware of all my problems and how they’re not getting better. i’m still shoving down all my anger every day, and maybe i’m not doing a good job of it, or i'm just reaching a breaking point because my teammates–they always give me these looks after games. they know me, and i guess they care about me. they always check in on me, but i hate that they can tell, and i hate the way they look at me, even if they mean well. it’s like they’re scared of me getting mad and blowing up. i've been talking to them less so that they don't worry about me but then i get scared that i’m losing them. i just don’t want them to be scared of me or worried about me. i don’t want their pity, i want them to treat me normally. not like i’m gonna break if they say one wrong thing to me.”

“well first of all, be confident that they care about you. don’t say you think they do. you just acknowledged how they're always checking in on you, and it's obvious you care about them, too. you value their friendships and comfort or else you wouldn’t be stressed about what they thought of you. it’s not weak of you to be cared for or to have breaking points. everyone has a limit to how much they can take, but you’re not supposed to just hold it all in until you can’t possibly take anymore,” she advises back, eyes focused on her screen as she types away while talking. “that’s why atsumu recommended for you to talk to someone. because if you’re not going to talk to them–which it sounds like they’re willing to listen but it’s all about who you’re comfortable talking to–you at least should talk to someone else. instead of holding in all your anger, find a way to get it out. set boundaries with your coach, practice spiking and receiving volleyballs without him around, and hit those fuckers as hard as you want. maybe give atsumu a broken nose,” she looks up with a cheeky smile on her face, the both of them sharing a small laugh, and things start to feel more natural as they talk. “or you could find something to do outside of volleyball so that you don’t burn out. find someone to hang out with, outside of your teammates, so that you have an area or relationship in your life not associated with your job. things like that, does that make sense?”

he nods again, and she finishes typing out her notes, which served as a good distraction to stop herself from focusing too much on him. “do any of those suggestions feel right for you? if you’re stressed about how you have all these problems that aren’t getting fixed, i'm trying to brainstorm ways for you to improve them.”

 he replies with the response he’s been formulating in his head to address all of her suggestions, “finding someone or something to do outside of volleyball would be nice, and i think i’ve already found that person, but i always get stuck in my head about how shitty i am. no one actually likes me, everyone’s just tolerating me. maybe my friends care about me, but eventually, they’ll get tired of my problems or how i treat them so horribly. i'm my own reason for why everything in my life has gone to hell, and it makes me feel like i don’t deserve anything good. i’m too scared to ever speak my mind, and i end up hurting everyone i’ve ever cared about, including you. i left you when you needed me the most.”

her fingers have been flying across her keyboard, but they freeze, splayed out hovering above the keys at his last sentence, “what are you talking about?” she asks her throat closing up.

“atsumu made me realize it was my fault we got distant, and it was when you needed the most help, too. i never said anything first when you started to drift, and you thought it was your fault. i’m sorry,” he answers, hooded eyes boring into her own. they’re as passive as always, yet she can feel how genuine his words are and can’t find it in her to look away.

she shakes her head, trying to force herself out of the daze, “sakusa– don’t– focus on you. don’t talk about us right now.” she makes herself look back down at her computer. she’ll makes a note to chew out atsumu for being an instigator, but for now gives him her full attention. she listens to the rest of his anxieties, reassuring him while holding back things she wants to say that are too personal and emotional to be professional.

she wants to stand up and hug him. tell him that he deserves love and he hasn’t ruined anything. that even if he’s made mistakes, that’s normal, and it’s not the end of the world. she wants to tell him that she forgives him and that none of his friends are looking at him in fear; they just want to know how best to support him, but he isn’t telling them how. he’s sitting in her office, apologizing and bringing himself down for not supporting her when she needed it, and he thinks he's selfish.

he couldn’t be more wrong. she wants to tell him how well he’s doing, acknowledging his problems and trying to save his relationships. she’s been crying for a reason as to why he left her for years, and here’s his apology now. she couldn’t be more moved by his words, and it’s like all this time she’s spent, hoping he would come back into her life and truly be there has paid off. although he left for a time, he came back. he didn’t leave her when times got tough purposely, it was just a typical case of miscommunication, which she admits was also partially her fault and apologizes for.

they go 15 minutes past when their allotted time should’ve ended, and it takes all of the strength in her to set her computer aside and signal that their time is up. they agree to meet again next wednesday, and then he asks her one more question that makes her freeze, hand wrapped around her door handle.

“is it okay if i text you outside of therapy? and not just as a client?” he’s too nervous to finish the question, but the implication is clear: ‘can i text you as a friend?’

she wants to say yes, but the question weighs heavy in her mind, and she stops to really consider it. is it right for her to keep in such close contact with a patient, and regard them as more than such? she thinks it’s okay. atsumu and her have been fine. it’s not the same as with sakusa, because her feelings for him go deeper than even just being friends, but it’ll be okay. because most of all, she wants to be a root for him. if he needs her to keep listening to him, she will always listen to him and be there for him, outside of their hour or not.

“yes, that’s fine,” she finally answers, turning to him. “and maybe that’ll keep this from becoming a habit. i’m not supposed to keep you past your appointment so long, you know,” she scolds playfully, a small smile on her face. she opens the door for him, holding it open with her back pressed against it as he walks past her.

there’s a smile on his face, too, and it doesn’t feel so scary anymore when he stops in front of her, his head tilting down to look at her, “you’re the one who suggested for me to have someone outside of work to talk to. i want that to be you.”

she tries not to let the words affect her too much, but a chill runs down her spine under his piercing gaze. she crosses her arms, looking back at him, ignoring how he towers over her as best as she can, “you’re surprisingly bold and demanding for someone who was just mulling about how no one likes you.”

“wow, do you talk to all your clients like this? listening to them and then turning around and using their insecurities against them on their way out?” he teases, and she swears he leans closer. there’s a tension between them, but it’s different than before. it's not bad, they're joking with each other now, they're just looking at each other like they want to say something more.

“just you and atsumu,” she shoots back, and for the first time since their fingers brushed the night he walked her home, she touches him, a hand on his chest to push him back before she overheats from his proximity. “you both have rubbed off on each other too much, all sass and no bite. you need to go, or else i’ll get in trouble.”

he obeys her touch, turning back to walk out the door as he chuckles, “with who? no one’s waiting out here. you’re just kicking me out to be rude.”

she waves him off, shooing him out the room, “just text me. i’ll respond, i promise.”

he turns back to her once more, a look in his eye that she almost wants to describe as gratefulness or adoration. she can’t say she’s not looking at him the same way back, or deny how her heart’s beating rapidly in her chest.

they’re going to text. they’re going to talk again like friends. they’re going to try this again.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

CRANKED THIS OUT IN ONE DAY SO IF THERE'S MISTAKES I'M SORRY

lots of yapping i'm sorry <3 i just really wanted to develop and add depth to the both of their characters!! with them having actual feelings and y/n giving actual advice rather than skipping over what their therapy sessions look like!!

and the parallels of their first meeting to their second one <3 who talks and says something they don't mean first <3 omi walking past y/n the first time vs. when he does actually stop in front of her <3

yeah they were def looking at each other when he stopped in front of her

all of y/n's plants are named after like carpentry/construction tools

my favorite is dewalt cordless hammer drill 20v

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[reysdriver]

Hi! I hope you’re doing great!

Can you please write a [Eddie Munson+ “This was a mistake” (Angst prompt 15)+ you finally got the courage to tell Eddie that you like him, but when you tell him he just freezes and doesn’t tell you anything]

Than you!! 💞

(part 1 of this fic) when confessing your feelings for your friend, you think the worst that can happen is that he says he doesn't feel the same; you don't even think about this outcome... — eddie x gn!reader angst

warnings: angst ofc, and swearing like once

words: 0.6k

It’s a scary thing to admit to yourself, much less to the person in question, so you were absolutely terrified to tell your friend Eddie that you had a crush on him. 

You chose to wait until the end of Hellfire night, when Eddie dropped off everyone that couldn’t get a ride home. He’s always been so sweet like that. He had just dropped off Dustin at his place, and now it was just the two of you in his van together. 

After a minute or two of silently hyping yourself up to confess, you turned down Eddie’s heavy metal just enough so it could be like background music. 

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked nicely. 

He turned his gaze to you, but just for a second, not wanting to take his eyes off the dark road for too long. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You twiddled your fingers, needing some sort of distraction while you do this. “I have something to tell you.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just— I wanted to say that I like you. Like, I like like you, and I’ve felt this way for I don’t even know how long. I don’t mean to ruin our friendship by doing this, but I don’t know if I can keep it to myself anymore. Just, you’re like, the best person I know, Eds, and I really like you.”

Once you stopped talking, the van felt silent. Eddie’s music was playing, but you were drowning it out. And neither of you were speaking, so all that was left was the sound of your heart about to beat out of your chest. 

“Eddie?” You asked, trying to prompt a response from him. 

He still stayed quiet. You tried to scan his features from the side, but he looked blank. His eyes were just glued to the road—which was usually good, just not in this situation. 

You were now getting desperate for him to say something back. “Eddie, will you just please respond?” 

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. 

At this point, you knew whatever he had to say was just going to break your heart more than it already had been, and you didn’t want to wait in this van until he said it. You wished you could just fall through the floor of the car and disappear, and the feeling just got worse when Eddie finally spoke. 

“I don’t— I don’t know how to respond to that.”

So, once Eddie paused at the stop sign, you quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed your bag from by your feet, and got out of the car. 

“Shit, wait!” He shouted from his open window. 

You were already crying, plus walking as fast as you could away from him. “No, just go, Eddie! It’s fine. Just pretend you dropped me off at home and everything was normal and I didn’t say anything!”

“Just get in the car and we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore. Look, you know my house is close; I’ll just walk home and everything will be fine.”

He sighed loudly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince you to come with him. He wanted to respect your boundaries, so he just gave up. 

“Okay, just— I’m sorry.” He kept his eyes on you as he drove away, leaving you alone under the streetlights, the two of you knowing you both made a mistake.

[eclipsebyler]

BYLER FIC RECS PT 4

Once again compiling all my favorite reads here and sharing it with everyone! To all the authors of these works: you have no idea how much your fic helped me cope these past few months (literally). I love you all and I hope you’re having the best of days ♡

ONESHOTS

1k+ words

the body is a blade by inblue  

yellow is your favourite color by RomeoWrites

panacea by smoosnoom

you are sick (and you’re married) by wiseatom 

are there still beautiful things? by aceoflanterns  

that funny feeling by delusionaltogether  

drowning on rooftops by perexcri

sealed with a kiss by astrobi 

polaroids on hardwood floor (you and me forevermore) by andiwriteordie

the babysitters club by RomeoWrites

and the shame was on the other side by andiwriteordie  

Empty Rooms, Shuttered and Dank by perexcri   

kiss me at midnight by RomeoWrites

in the closet (at mike wheeler's house) by andiwriteordie

lookin' at me in the 7-eleven by andiwriteordie  

10k+ words

so, for once in my life by MeltingSnow  

i'm caught up in you by wiseatom  

i'll find myself in the moonlight by beansie

again, we love by hiscleric

Myne Owne by disaster_energy 

kiss him you fool by andiwriteordie  

to love or to be loved (that is the question) by mogiah

honey-mouthed by smoosnoom 

anything, anything by inblue  

i keep my distance (but you still catch my eye) by andiwriteordie

not all the prayers by astrobi

need-to-snow basis by smoosnoom

provide me sweet understanding by agustplz

seasons of love by smoosnoom

the time of my life with you by andiwriteordie  

let me steal this moment from you by smoosnoom

20k+ words

all this time (how could you not know?) by astrobi

mike wheeler's guide to falling in love with a superhero by smoosnoom

playing pretend never felt so real by RomeoWrites

king of my heart by bookinit

tell me, is it really love? by agustplz   

what can i do by delusionaltogether

if you ever think you got it wrong by agustplz

irresistible by perexcri 

CHAPTERED FICS

10k - 50k+

Heavy Hopes by beansie

i've come home, i'm so cold by astrobi  

The Evening Speaks by nbfutureboy  

A Darker Timeline by egg98

with honor, we hound by hiscleric   

yesterFriday by nbfutureboy  

60k - 100k+

You are the Heart by TouchTheSky

There Is A Season by ghostlin

RESPONSIBILITY by Wheelerboi  

Rock 'n' Roll by bylerisc4non

Shrike by StepfordSnarker

a dream always the same by sevensided   

[shaunamilfman]

Perv Shauna this, Perv Lottie that. Where is my depraved girl twink representation?

Jackie runs inside her bedroom, slamming the door shut and backing herself against it. She was breathing hard, had she run home? She really didn’t even process getting back to her house, she had tunnel vision. When Jackie finally caught her breath, she slid down the floor to a sitting position, took off her backpack and pulled a sweatshirt that’s all too familiar to her, out of her bag. She clutched the hoodie in both hands, bringing the soft material up to her face, and inhaling your scent.

The truth is, you didn’t really know she had your sweatshirt. Jackie had sat behind you in 10th period History for over half the year now, she was *just* starting to question her sexuality at the beginning of the year, and then along came you. She was constantly smelling your cologne, watching your back and arm muscles flex through your t-shirts, getting an occasional hand graze as you pass the worksheets to her, and Jackie just wasn’t supposed to fall in love? She latched onto you, to an obsessive degree. Desperately trying to refrain from threading her fingers through your hair, drooling as you groan in pleasure when you stretch your back, hearing you speak to friends in the class and pretending all that fondness in your tone was directed at her.

So that day, when she noticed you had accidentally left your favorite sweatshirt behind in class, on the back of your chair right in front of Jackie, she realized she had two options. One, to run the sweatshirt to you before you went to practice, maybe get a chance to have a nice but brief chat, where you’d thank her for making sure your favorite sweatshirt made it back to you. Or option two, take the sweatshirt and run.

And that’s just what she did, she acted on impulse, and now she has something of yours. She has something of yours that’s concrete, something that will make her fantasies more realistic. Because imagining you on top of her, saying and doing all of those sinful things she thinks about, late, late at night, feels all the more genuine if she can smell you and feel your sweatshirt. She could clutch at it, while she touched herself and pretend it was your hands that knew her so well. The smell of your cologne on the hoodie spurred her on to slip a hand into her pants, and begin to play with herself. Her theft had left her turned on since the moment she left the classroom, stuffing your clothing into her bag, all the while thinking of all that she could do with it. She should be ashamed of how wet she was, if she were in the right of mind she probably would be, but she was being driven by the extreme want you produce in her. She muses to herself that you’d probably love the sound of your name on her lips, she tests it out, calling your name quietly to the empty room, hoping she could manifest you n the middle of her room, feeling just as depraved as she was. Jackie touched herself with a torturously slow pace, the way she imagined it, you always took your time with her, no matter how much she pleaded with you. The way you’d pull every “please” from her until she was crying in desperation. Her eyes are rolling back in pleasure as she brings your sweatshirt up to her face and drowns in the ghost of you that haunts the piece of fabric. She’s not even halfway through her favorite fantasy of you before she’s closing her eyes, and finishing with a pathetic moan that’s muffled by the hoodie. Once Jackie is brought back to planet earth, there is only one thing she’s absolutely certain of; You are never seeing this sweatshirt again.

got way too busy to actually answer this but wowwwwwww. im fucking speechless bro honestly. once again i dont think you need to put perv in front of jackie 🤔. i think it's just implied

something about jackie developing a pavlovian response to your cologne after getting off with your sweatshirt all the time. she's sitting behind you in class and is so turned on just from the smell of you. jackie teasing herself silly every night imagining you doing it for her?? she always imagines you so slow and even regardless of how much she begs for it, as if you don't care how much she enjoys it. something about you just touching her however you want really gets her going. jackie getting frustrated with how quickly she's finishing as she breathes in your hoodie so she keeps going with that same slow pace, writhing against her own hand as it gets to be too much. but she just imagines the way you'd keep going even as she begged you to stop. she's so careful not to get her tears on the hoodie, not wanting it to stop smelling like you.

thinking about working on a group project with jackie and she's practically shaking as you sit on her bed talking about the blank check or some shit. "so what do you think?" and jackies just frantically nodding along because she's long gone. finding your hoodie underneath her pillow while she's ran off to the bathroom...

god that was so good broooooooo. holy shit

[sakumz]

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a/n : back with an ibara fic... ong finally watched the road to show movie and gdi!? IBARA MADE ME FALL FOR HIM AGAIN pretends sakuma bros and izumi don't exist (yes I'm still not over happy elements treatment to me) anyways enjoy!

「 s. ibara x gn reader 」

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there's so much to love about your ibara. from the way he speaks to the way he acts and carries himself. you can't help but fall for everything about him, despite that habit of greeting you with a salute everyday.

" salute! my dear, " he greets with the usual gesture of his hand to his forehead as he shoots you, his close-eyed smile.

that simple gesture can quickly ease your stress of a mind and wipe away all your problems. when he does that, you can't help but smile as well. what an adorable lover, you got! but adorable doesn't seem to fit in ibara's vocabulary because to him, you're the adorable lover!

" hey, give me a minute and I'll be yours soon enough. " pushing away all your works as you shut off your computer in your shared home-office. you make your way to ibara.

he's all dressed comfy and ready to spend the night with you at home. he grabs your hand in his bigger ones. he drags you to the living room, and there lay all sorts of your favourite snacks. he even built you a mini forte to lay under as you both watch a movie or play a game on the television.

" wow~ what's the occasion? " you teased as he huffs out in satisfaction. did he colour you impressed with his work?

" my, just doing something for my dear lover. I had to fight a blonde this afternoon when I heard despite giving you a rest day, you're drowning in idol works! so I finished mine earlier today and head home to spend time with you. don't push yourself, even if we're both in different agencies when you need help. I'll be here for you! I'll even secretly do some of your works if you let me. " you felt tears threatening to spill, what is wrong with your workaholic lover? despite being sweet and kind to you. he wants more work when he still has idol work to balance!

you pinch his cheek as you puff out your cheeks in an attempt to play angry at him. you love him to death and is forever grateful to him. he has painted your dull world in every shade of colour there is in existence. in response to your action, the man brought a hand to pinch you back in the cheek.

you let out a gasp before using your other hand as he does the same, too. the man stops his assault to your cheeks as he starts to tickle you on your stomach which then caught you off guard as you fall on your back and he towers over your figure to tickle you once more. soon the room was filled with laughter and joy of the two.

you grab his hands in yours, stopping the tickles and both laughter to die down. soon serious expression takes over you as ibara gulps silently.

" I love you so much, and I'm thankful for everything you've done for me. you've done so much for cospro and I have my share of work to do in starpro. please don't burden yourself with my plate. though if I ever need a hand, I know who to turn to. I want to be there for you too! especially when you need it so let me help you with your works if you ever need it. " he pats your head upon hearing your words.

" alright, so work aside. do you want to play a game or watch a movie? I'll be down for anything you want to do, my dear~ " he says as he grabs your hand and kiss your ring finger, adored by the ring he propose to you with.

the night was filled with laughter and happiness once more. more happy memories await the two lovers.

[dollarstoreparadise]

i want to talk about all the shubble/wilbur soot discourse going on rq.

i have a friend who is very into dsmp/lovejoy/qsmp and loves wilbur. she told me about what the situation was so i did a little research myself.

my own personal opinion is that i have immense respect for shubble and i'm glad she spoke up. from the posts that i've seen i think wilbur did not handle it well. at all. his "apology" was incredibly lackluster and did not actually truly address the situation. i'm glad that shubble didn't accept his apology because she did not need to, nor should she. it is disgusting that he lied and pretended he didn't know about the harm he caused. maybe he didn't in the beginning, but as time went on (according to shelby) he blatantly disregarded her boundaries.

i myself have experienced very odd forms of abuse that at the time i didn't see as abuse. i too felt absolutely miserable because of it. i played it off like everything was okay because i thought it was. it progressively got worse and worse and my family was very worried because i was significantly more depressed and isolated than usual. it wasn't until our relationship was forcefully ended that i realized the ways i was being manipulated and abused. when my abuser was confronted about it he did a very similar thing where he blamed me (the victim) for his behavior. i want to make this very clear: you are responsible for your own actions and the harm it may cause others.

any form of abuse is absolutely disgusting, and i will always, always stand with the victim.

that being said, if you support wilbur soot at all then please unfollow me and do not interact with me. i am boycotting him and lovejoy. i do not want to support someone who has caused that much harm to anyone.

i think this is a very important subject to talk about. my heart goes out to all victims of abuse. you are incredibly special and i'm so sorry for any pain you may have gone through. it doesn't have to remain as a bad situation. you can grow from it and become a stronger and better person, i promise. no matter how bad it seems there is a light at the end of the tunnel. there will always be a hand for you to grasp when you feel like you're drowning. you are loved and you are deserving of so much better. <3

[celeluwhenfics]

Random Rohan headcanon: The Creek Game

This horse game was first recorded in the late 29th century of the Third Age near Aldburg, although it has possibly existed in some form for much longer. It has since spread widely across the Mark. By the mid-30th century, it was acknowledged as an unofficial national sport in Rohan, and a great favourite amongst young Rohirrim.

To play the Creek game, you need: -A creek or small river, passable both on foot and by horse, by jumping or fording, or even swimming if the season allows. -Several miles of open plain on either side of the creek -Eighteen "runners", boys and girls of all ages -Six riders, usually the older boys who have started military training, but some strong, tall girls have also been known to excel in this position -Six good horses Note: the game is usually played bareback (without saddles)

The game starts with the runners and the riders on either side of the creek. For example, the runners are on the north side, and the riders on the south side. On the signal, the runners start running north, away from the creek. After giving them a headstart of the duration of the "creek song", the riders go after them. Once a runner is touched, they climb behind the rider, who turns the horse southwards at a gallop, and pass the creek. Once on the south side, he rider decides how far to let their captive runner off, and then moves on the catch another runner. Meanwhile, the previously captured runner makes their way north to pass again onto the other side of the creek. The game ends if the riders manage to get all runners on the south side at once, or when the sun sets. It is the responsibility of the riders that no one, horse or runner, gets severely injured and that all runners are accounted for by the end of the day.

Other rules that are more or less consistentky applied: -Riders can only pick up one runner at a time. -Runners must comply and get on the horse at the best of their ability once touched. No running away, or faking to be unable to get on, to gain time. You're an able-bodied young Rohirrim, you CAN get on a horse at a halt with the help of a strong rider in seconds. Do not pretend otherwise. -When on the horse, a captive runner cannot impede the rider, fall on purpose or try to get down before the rider decides to let them off. Hang on and ride.

Do ankles get turned, horseshoes lost, knees scraped, toes crushed,  manes pulled, clothes torn, tears shed, even bones broken? Yes, sometimes. But could there be a better way to build endurance in horses and young people? To train girls and boys in running on rugged terrain, to build their strenght, orientation, independence, resourcefulness and team work? To get future war horses accustomed to keep a cool head amidst running, pursuits, screaming, rough play and some chaos around them? To impart in young men responsibility and awareness of their comrades over vast areas, in addition to a solid seat without the support of a saddle or stirrups?

Memorable quotes include: 'Have we lost Gárulf and Wylfrun again?! Come on, they could be a little more subtle...' 'Rowena, don't cheat, I touched you already... Hey, COME HERE or I'll pull you up by your braid!' 'Please get off now. I don't care if you drown, I'm not making Arod jump that with both of us on his back.' 'Are you for real? You're running so slow when my brother is around. Be a real Eorling shieldmaiden and put up a fight, or he'll never like you.' 'I know I'm supposed to hang on tight to you, but let's say that you could use a dip in the river when we pass by, so I'll just trust Hasufel to not buck me off until then.' 'Bréda, we're supposed to run NORTH, you know. North is that way.'

...And that time when Théodred had to find, comfort and load on his horse no less than three crying children because Folcred had brought them unreasonably far south of the creek and the sun had long set.

Being an occasion for the girls to admire the riding prowess of young men from up close, and for these dashing riders to enjoy the tight grip of their giggling passenger, the creek game is admittedly the spark that started many an idyll amongst teenage Rohirrim.

It is also an excellent (if somewhat over-elaborated) excuse for an author to include the Only One Horse trope in her upcoming fic.

[middlechild404]

Learning anatomy

Summary: you have a lot of studying to do. Jack decides to help you.

__________________________________________

I was drowning in assignments and presentations this period, and on top of all of that, I had an anatomy exam coming up in two days. So for the time being I had set aside my other studies just to make sure that I passed this test. Even though I was confident that I would pass with a high grade, although, my confidence was overruled by the anxiety in the pit of my stomach that would linger until the moment I was done with the test.

I was frantically using my flashcards as I felt a strong headache creeping in from the amount of information that I needed to cramp up in my brain. I wasn't going to let a headache stop me from studying. Hence, I needed to make my remedy for headaches, which was a green tea mixed with mango and lychee, or so I liked to call it- pure heaven.

As I started the water boiler, my phone chimed. I immediately picked it up hoping that it would be Jack. We have been friends for a while now but at some point I started to develop feelings for him. Ever since then, I haven't been able to get him out of my mind and I keep second-guessing his intentions when doing things, hoping that he somehow reciprocates the feelings I have for him.

To my dismay, it was my lab partners. I answered their questions quickly and put down my phone right after turning off the sound.

I began to rationalize with myself that waiting for him to text was ridiculous and that I'd been tricking myself into liking him all along. I kept thinking that I should focus on my studies instead of a guy that doesn't even like me. But, all those thoughts went out the window the second my phone vibrated on the counter.

"Eyoo, I'm in the neighborhood. I'll be swinging by soon."- Jack wrote

I kept writing and rewriting a response, lastly, I settled for what would be best.

"It's probably best if you don't, I really need to study. Have a test coming up soon :(" I typed and hit send.

I could see the bubbles appearing instantly, not many seconds later he responded.

"No worries, we can work together. I need to finish a track anyway, so I can do that while you study."

My stomach did somersaults at his response. I quickly went to the mirror to make myself look at least half decent. My skin looked dull in the absence of makeup, so I tapped my cheeks a few times to give myself a rosy look.

The taps on my cheeks were unnecessary as I was completely flushed at the sight of Jack in gray sweatpants only a few minutes later when he entered my apartment.

I wanted to say something after we greeted each other but he stopped me from forming a sentence. "Shhh, just pretend I'm not here. I don't want to get in the way of your studying" he said as he placed himself on my couch.

To that, I rolled my eyes. "I wanted to ask if you wanted some tea, but nevermind" I said with a smirk on my face.

"Smartass" he smirked back. "I would actually love some of that tea you refer to as heaven"

I walked quickly into the kitchen and then back with two cups in my hands. Jack had already started his work as he had his headphones on and was typing rapidly on his computer. He simply acknowledged me with a "thank you" as I placed his cup on the table, then returned to his typing.

I admired how focused he was when it came to his work. I caught myself staring for a few seconds, which made me avert my gaze. I picked up my flashcards and started to memorize all the different bones in the body.

After two hours of studying, I finally took a break. I quickly looked at Jack who was still typing away on his computer, I didn't want to interrupt him so I just sat there playing with my flashcards in silence.

It didn't take long for my intrusive thoughts to appear. Am I going to be able to do this? Am I smart enough? Why am I even doing this? Will I be able to have a good career? Am I good enough? And the thoughts went on, chipping away at my confidence.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't heard Jack speaking to me. He caught my attention as he simply put his hand on my arm.

"Hey, where did you go?" He asked with a concerned look on his face.

I was contemplating if I would be honest or not and simply say that everything was fine. I didn't want to start a conversation about how I doubted myself and keeping him from his job.

He understood that I was having an argument with myself as the silence was long due. To this, he placed his computer on the table along with his headphones and turned himself toward me. He brought his leg up as a barrier between us as he made himself comfortable for some deep talk.

"Come on, spill. You know you can talk to me." Jack said as he sipped on his second cup of tea.

"I don't know, sometimes I get these thoughts that I'm not good enough…I don't even know why I'm majoring in this anyway, I lost my motivation somewhere along the way." I said embarrassed while looking down on my lap as I played with the fuzz on my sweatpants.

"Listen, from what I've seen, you're one of the most hardworking people I know. You don't just study to pass, you study because you want to be good at what you do." He said reassuringly. He continued before I could give a response "That definitely means you're good enough, and sometimes also a bit of an overachiever." He said with a grin, to which he received a playful punch on his arm.

"As for motivation, you will lose it a million times over in your journey, but that doesn't mean you won't be able to get it back. You just need to find new ways to motivate yourself." He said supportively.

I was always awkward in these moments since I had a hard time receiving any kind of praise. This resulted in me giving him an awkward smile along with verbal gratitude as my heart was beating out of my chest.

It felt like the world stopped spinning when he kept staring at me. Nothing happened until his handsome face lit up, which meant that he had an idea. I felt a bit anxious about what he would do next, due to his ideas not always being the best.

"I have an idea of how we can motivate you for your studies." He blurted as he grabbed my flashcards. "How about I help you revise." He said with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Don't you have work to do?" I asked, not really wanting to take his time.

"I was done a while ago, I was waiting for you to take a break." He responded as he shifted closer to me.

"Oh well, okay I guess. Those flashcards are only bones of the upper body" I retorted while pointing at the blue deck of cards in his big hands.

"Okay, good good." He said with a smile on his face.

He quickly went through the flashcards, seeing that they were in order going from the lowest part of the upper body to the head.

He picked up my hand and gave the tip of my finger a kiss. My mind went wild at this action, it showed on my cheeks as they swiftly turned bright red.

"What's this bone called?" He asked me with a smirk on his face, he was content with the reaction I had given him.

I struggled to get a word out as I said "Ehh, distal phalanx".

"Correct, and now in Latin." He responded proudly while kissing my fingertip again.

"Os phalangeum distale manus" I answered unsurely.

"Correct!" He exclaimed as I received another kiss.

He kept doing this procedure all the way up to my collarbone. He stopped as he realized our close proximity, waiting for me to protest. Since I didn't, he continued.

He stopped later when I had received kisses all over my head, not knowing that he had missed one bone. My cheekbone.

"You missed one." I mumbled, not wanting to sound like I was asking for it.

He quickly looked through the cards and gave himself a nod when he saw which one it was. He immediately kissed me on my cheekbone and asked which bone it was.

"The zygomatic bone, or os zygomaticum in Latin." I said correctly. "Uuughh, finally done." I added, knowing that we had gone through the whole deck.

He didn't back away too far from my face, as I kept feeling his breath on my cheek. "One last question, what's this bone called?" he asked while putting his thumb on my lip.

"There are no bones in the lip." I answered confused at his question.

"Smartass, you've gotten everything right. I think you need to get a reward." He said right before crashing his lips on mine.

I couldn't believe what was happening, my mind was in a frenzy as he put his fingers through my hair and our bodies impossibly closer.

We broke the kiss to regain our breath, or for me- my sanity. I'd been dreaming about this for the longest time and it was even better than I'd ever imagined.

"What do you say about taking a break to have some… fun. Or how about studying the lower body now." He smirked and gave me a wink.

I didn't want to waste any time, therefore I immediately crashed my lips on his as I straddled him and let my fingers play with his soft hair.

__________________________________________

Hope you liked this one loviiieess ❤️

It was supposed to be a short one but got a bit carried away😅

Taglist: @jackharloww, @j-worlds-blog @itsyagirljaz, @harlowcomehome, @neon-lights-and-glitter

[threadsun]

to all of the suitors! would u be willing to drug ur partner if they weren't interested in u so u could fuck them while their passed out? or would u rather mindbreak them while their awake so they love u? - fishie (im here to make them all worse

Bachelor #1: A drugged up partner is much more fun when they're awake. Mindbreaking is fun too, though!

Bachelor #2: Oh I... I think... I know I shouldn't, but... I would drug them so I could pretend they might love me when they wake up

Bachelor #3: Yes! I prefer to drug them with things that keep them awake and disoriented though, makes them much more amenable to what I want to do to them. And by the time I'm done, they'll be madly in love with me~

Bachelor #4: I would want them awake for every second of it. Filling them with divine love until they see that they were made to be mine

Bachelor #5: Drugging people's much easier. Just gotta wait until they pass out on the couch or something, then you can do whatever you want to them. That's my go-to

Bachelor #6: I can accept when I'm not wanted. Though... I suppose if I was filled with an all-consuming love, I might act unwisely on it. If that did happen, I would go slowly. Encouraging them to love me more and more until it took. And perhaps if I got impatient I might drug them to enjoy them while they were unconscious

Bachelor #7: I would never! That would be so... uncouth. I would simply keep them in my home and wait until they were no longer angry with me, and then woo them properly

Bachelor #8: Death threats work better. Drown or be with me. The love can come later, it's fine

Bachelor #9: Drugs are easier, but I prefer to see their response. To watch them melt for me, to see the hatred in their eyes replaced with love, to hear those threats turn to begging... And perhaps some other drugs can be used to... encourage their affections

Bachelor #10: Awake gets better reactions, but asleep means you can do even more to them~ They're like a puppet or a doll to play with

Bachelor #11: I'm not the strongest guy, so if I needed someone to love me then I'd probably drug them. I could take my time to enjoy them that way

Bachelor #12: Or? What do you mean or? If the cameras in their room and stalking them aren't enough, obviously you drug them first and then once you have a plan and know every inch of their body, you mindbreak them. Fucking amateur

[autumntouched]

Top Gun Headcanon - Birth Order Theory Edition

If you’re reading Talk to Me on ao3, then you’ve probably noticed that siblings play a huge role in the story and that’s not an accident.

There are so many things that influence our personalities, and I love observing the role that siblings or no siblings plays in that. So here’s my headcanon for our favorite TGM characters’ family dynamics.

Phoenix - Phoenix is the third of four children with two older brothers and a younger sister. She has the adaptability and peacekeeping skills of a middle child but knows how to manipulate alliances to get what she wants when she wants to. As the younger sister of two brothers, she has no trouble or lack of confidence fitting into the male-dominated world of the Navy. While she has an easy relationship with her older brothers, her relationship with her younger sister is more complicated and they are most likely to take their frustrations out on one another. Phoenix’s parents divorced when she was young so she felt extra pressure to hold the family together. Her brothers’ protection became her source of stability, but she can sometimes unfairly place all of the blame for conflicts on her younger sister. Family nicknames: Sasha/Sash because there was another Natasha in her class and she didn’t want to be Natasha T, kids made fun of her for Nat, and Tasha seemed like a butt. Chickadee (her mom) for her bright nature and obsession with the sky. Nasha because her older brother couldn’t pronounce her name as a toddler.

Rooster - Rooster is very much an only child. He’s independent, sensitive, a little self-absorbed from time to time, and unable to shrug off (or at least pretend to ignore) Hangman’s teasing the way the other pilots do. He can find it hard to relate to his peers, especially because he matured so quickly after losing his dad at such a young age. As the only child of a single parent, he feels a huge sense of responsibility toward those around him. Family nicknames: Booger or Boo (Carole may have had too much of a sense of humor), Nicky (Goose) short for “Nicholas,” his middle name

Hangman - For much of his life, Hangman was the adored younger brother. His parents may have told him they’re proud of him one too many times. As the younger sibling of a sister, he has a sensitive streak that often catches people off guard. He’s outgoing with a lack of a sense of responsibility for others. An attention seeker, he knows how to turn on the charm or push people’s buttons as only a younger sibling can. Then his older sister died when they were in high school. He struggles with the responsibility he feels as his parents’ only surviving child and the feeling that he can never live up to his sister’s memory. Hangman was extremely close to his sister but doesn’t feel like he has the right to grieve her in comparison to his parents’ loss of a child. Family nicknames: Jakey

Bob - Bob is the youngest of four with two older sisters and one nonbinary sibling who spoil him as much as they gang up on him. He’s used to being drowned out and overlooked but accepts it as a fact of life rather than with resentment. However, he’s not without a spine and can give as good as he gets when he needs to hold his own. His parents gave him the confidence to let others take the lead and growing up with three assertive siblings, he has no problem playing second fiddle to any gender. Family nickname: Robby (and ONLY his family is allowed to call him this, with the exception of Phoenix in private)

Payback - Payback is in some ways the quintessential oldest child. He’s a little more reserved, an overachiever, and expects everyone to take responsibility for themselves and others. He has just one younger brother but grew up around several sibling-like cousins. Among them, he’s the middle child so he shows hints of peacekeeping, adaptability, and rebelliousness. He’s not opposed to breaking the rules, but he doesn’t like when people do it at someone else’s expense. He can see an argument coming from a mile away and, like a parent, will redirect the conversation rather than lowering himself into the immature fray. Family/Childhood nickname: He’s a third, so Trey and at school Fitch.

Fanboy - Fanboy was an only child when his parents got divorced and then became a younger step-sibling when one remarried and later an older half brother to a sister and brother when the other remarried. As someone forced into a position of fluidity, he prefers to hang back and observe but can work well with just about anyone. He has a natural, easy going nature and with so many different familial dynamics, he’s not as intimidated by established or de facto authority. Family nickname: None, he liked Mickey. 

[arsenic-the-fae]

Heya!

I wrote a free verse poem in my fral class today and think it's pretty cool :)

(I have to translate it to English, so it might sound a lil funky)

It talks about my experience of theater and assimilating to neurotypical life, then finding a queer space where I felt welcome

Masks

All of my hobbies are ones where I pretend to be someone else

People like to tell me this says something about me

I agree with their observations

I play a marketeer, a waiter, a goblin

I can be an enchantress, an evil soldier, and a theif

I wear the mask of my desires

When I enter the stage, or sit at the table, I am no longer restricted by the expectations of society

I am not expected to conform to the expectations of others

I use hundreds of costumes, and millions of personalities

I wear the mask of my desires

I leave the stage

I am surrounded by support and friends

My classmates and our crew

I am filled with joy, it feels real and welcoming

I don't need a mask

Then I leave the theater

Strangers surround me

I've spoiled the moment of euphoria

I begin to drown in regular life

Work, responsibilities, the standard life

I become a worker for society

I wear the mask of their desires

It's not normal to jump with joy, to infuse your life with magic

They tell me to stop, that I am a stranger if I do that

They make me what they want

For me to wear their mask

I hate these masks

We are meant to be different and beautiful

I go to a masquerade

There is hundreds of masks of every color, shape and size

They are beautiful

I pass a mirror and see my own mask

The gray has cracked, and beneath I see rainbows and feathers

I see sequins and music

I am beautiful

I wear my own mask

Bonus: the original French version

(It's my second language so it may not have the best grammar)

Les Masques

Tous mes loisirs sont les choses ou je jou comme un autre personne

Les personnes m'ont dis que ca dit quelque chose à propos de moi

Je suis d'accord avec cet observation

Je joue un marketeur, un serveur, un magicien, un lutin.

Je pouvais être un chanteur magique, un soldat maléfique,  un voleur

Je porte un masque de mes desires

Quand j’entre l'étage, ou le table, je n’ont pas besoin d’etre restricter par les expectations de société

C’est pas expecter de conformer a les expectations des autres

J'utilise les centains de costumes, les milliers de personnalités

Je porte un masque de mes desires

Je quitte l'étage

Je suis entouré du support et les amis

Mes camarades de classe, notre équipe d'étage,

Le joi m’en remplis, c’est vrai et accueillant

Je n’ont pas besoin d’un masque

Je quitte le théâtre

Les étrangers m'entourent

Je gâche le moment d’euphorie

Je commence à noyer en le vie standarde

Le travaille, les responsibilities, la vie

Je devenir un travailleur pour le societe

Je porte le masque de leurs désires

C’est pas normale de saute avec joi, d’enfuse le magique en ton vie

Ils me dit d’arrete, que je suis un etranger si je fait ca

Ils me forment a ce qu’ils veulent

D’avoir les masques identiques

Je deteste les masques comme ca

Les masques devrait être différent et beau

J’entre un bal masquer

Il y a des centains de masques de chaque couleur, taille, et forme

Ils sont beaus

Je passe un miroire et voire mon masque

Le gris est craquer, et dessous je vois les couleurs et les plumes

Je vois les paillettes et la musique

C’est beau

Je porte ma propre masque

[monzterzack]

i dont have many places to vent now, as i have committed the mistake of trying to be profitable with my art, so ill vent here

getting the autism diagnosis helped me a lot, because now im aware that a lot of my missery and struggles come from it

however it did jack shit to help with the empty hole in my chest of feeling like a weirdo that is going to die alone

it also didnt help me to communicate to my irl relationships that i do need accommodations, and i do struggle a lot

they just took it as if i was an inspirational story, because even when having autism im still doing what normal people do, when im killing myself over here trying to fulfill all the responsibilities that they find easy to do

i dont want to say it, but im constantly on the brink of financial collapse, im always in pain and overstimulated/understimulated, trying to find a way to trick my brain into doing what i want it to do

they still see my binge eating as a personal failure, instead of a natural soothing mechanism that has gone wild because im too stressed to deal with stuff

and i sorta get it, i truly do, pretending like everything i do is correct just because im disabled is not helpful either, but i would really like it if instead of “being real” with me all the time, they would at least try and ease out my stress a bit

i dont know

i stopped taking my meds again, they just kill all my creative drive and im miserable when i cant draw or write

i still feel like no one gets me, and i get frustrated because im turning bitter from having to overexplain myself constantly

im still playing savior in my house, im still taking more than i can bite, and its settling that i will probably never leave this place

im glad that now i know its not just me being “bad at being a human”, i just wish it helped me get more kindness and help

i dont want to be one of those “autism is my only personality trait” people, but everyday i realize more and more how a lot of what i do is indeed because of the autism, i just wish someone gave me a manual on how to work with it

im not capable of getting a regular job, and its scaring me a lot for the future as there isnt any social security service that could help me here

im just sharing not to ask for sympathy or solutions, but because i dont have anywhere else to vent without it sounding like im looking for excuses

im drowning and then swimming up for a second, then drowning again, im so tired

[giselle-clarke]

@limalatina: continued from here

As much as Giselle would have loved to keep avoiding Santana, Sue's diabolical plan to put them in the most awkward of situations only allowed them to keep this charade up for so long. Maybe they could have dragged it on a little longer if not for the unexpected gift she'd found near her luggage. Subjecting herself to getting so wasted that she wound up sleeping in various places around her assigned hut had prevented her from doing any exploring of her own, so she was somewhat grateful that Santana had found the painting before someone else nabbed it. It was absolutely perfect for her, and if nothing else, her ex deserved to have her thank her in person...sort of. Though, she should have foreseen the response she got from Santana, and she couldn't blame her. Leaning against the door frame, she chewed on the inside of her cheek as she silently watched the other woman maneuver around the small ass space. Giselle had expressed her gratitude so she could (and probably should) have just hightailed it back out of there, yet instead, she found herself eyeing her ex, who looked fucking hot as usual. Whatever Santana was saying went in one ear and right out the other since it was irrelevant at the moment, as were most things whenever she found herself drooling.

Santana turning to face her finally snapped her out of her trance, and Giselle shrugged at her question. "Right..uh, no. That was all." She muttered, pushing herself off of the wall. That was obviously not true at all, and she was far too hungover and cranky to even be considering what she truly needed, but this was the longest they'd been in the same space since arriving to Mexico so she knew she had to take advantage of that. "Actually, I'm sorry." She'd lost count of how many times they'd apologized to each other after every stupid fight, but where was the harm in adding another one to the growing list? "I won't list off everything that I'm sorry for because I know it's a lot, and you're about to leave, but I am sorry for all of it. And we can stop avoiding each other now too, which is fucking stupid." That part was mostly on Giselle too, but she'd drink her guilt away over it afterwards. "I'll probably be drunk as hell again whenever you get back, and I'm not expecting you to agree now, but we can have that talk whenever you're ready. But before you play dumb and pretend not to know what talk I'm referring to just so you can make me say it, I'll save you the trouble. You keep asking me what I want, as if the answer's not fucking obvious, so screw it. I want you. I still hate talking about feelings though, so I'm gonna go drown myself in that tequila is that has a dead scorpion or worm or whatever in it. But you have fun today, and I'll drop a pin when I get to a bar so that if I'm not here when you get back, you can assume I did drown in the ocean and come find my body."