#I forgot to post this during pride

[castlefly]

TRANS PRIDE!!! behold lepe my son

[winryrockbellwannabe]

since it's already july, HAPPY DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH everyone <33

[waywardgirl75]

"crazy crazy rainbow star, would you like to come with me?"

[yaz-the-spaz]

ok but the rainbow background on this post is sending me 🌈 😂

P.S. anyone else been thinkin bout how Liam's new "where dark meets light" tattoo has the same energy as Zayn's yin yang tattoo and the light and dark line in pillowtalk or is that just me 👀🤔💭

[biscuitcrow]

gender is a game and i’m winning! 

[vongole-biankou]

Felt nostalgic over the Disaster Sapphics, so here's my gal Zetha having a Panik™ over Penny's strong, buff arms 💪

[scorpiosbite]

the time actress!reader mentioned obx in her interview

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── while the obx cast were together in drew’s hotel room madelyn in her ever obsession of game of thrones brought up that you had mentioned how much you love obx in an interview. causing them to watch the interview together.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 and 3 weeks after the first time they watched the show together. at this point of my timeline the cast have watched the entire first season of game of thrones.

drew was scrolling through his phone, you had followed him back on instagram a week ago and he was on the moon. though he hadn’t messaged you yet. unsure on what to say to you. drew prided himself on being a confident man yet, your ability to make him nervous through a screen was unprecedented.

while stalking your profile for the umpteenth time he found himself wondering about you yet again. your limited amount of posts made you even more intriguing to him. he wondered what kind of person you are. what things made you tick, whether you would stare up at him with those siren eyes, whether you moaned or whimpered during sex, whether your face scrunched up and your mouth hung open as your chest heaved like it did in your sex scene that hasn’t left his brain since the moment he watched it.

just as he fell into a spiral of thoughts about you madelyn spoke up from her seat across the room, drawing the attention of everyone else, and drew was suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone in his room. “oh my fucking god! i forgot to tell you guys!” she was staring down at her phone. but drew was having trouble focusing on her, still consumed in his thoughts of you.

the others, however, had no problem driving their attention to her, so drew remained in his bubble staring at the most recent post on your profile, a vogue magazine cover from three months ago, of you, seated, legs spread on the iron throne with the sword dark sister held in your hands standing between your legs, the crown of aegon the conquerer tilted on your head, the lace thigh high socks with garters disappearing under the skirt of your tight mini dress and the bold red coating your lips enticing him further.

it wasn’t till he heard your name slip from madelyn’s lips, was his attention torn from the captivating sight on his screen. “wait, what you just say?” madelyn smirked “of course, only when i say y/n’s name, do you listen.” drew blushed lightly. but didn’t make the move to defend himself, after all they would be right, he had been distracted from the moment he saw you in all your glory stealing the screen.

“what i was saying that y/n mentioned obx in an interview, just pass me the remote, i’ll show you.” drew’s heart rate spiked, the thought of you having seen him in his element, doing his job, made him self conscious in a way that he wasn’t ready to admit. once madelyn had the video loaded on the screen, drew was once again struck by how effortlessly beautiful you are. dressed in simple black pants and an off-shoulder cream long sleeve top, brown boots disappearing under your pants and simple gold hoop earrings, your brunette hair loose and following in natural waves. drew looked at your empty neck and thought how good you would look if there was a necklace with his initial hanging there, branding you as his.

madelyn skipped through the video until the moment you were talking. the interviewer asked you and your cast-mate what shows you watch during your down time when filming, your voice rang through the silent room and drew was struck once again by how attractive your accent sounded, your british accent deep and sultry but more casual than the tone you use when playing visenya. “oh, well mimi and i love outer banks a lot, to the point where we quote it on set quite often. i think we’ve annoyed everyone.” you laughed and drew thought about how he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

your cast mate and best friend, mimi who plays arianne martell laughed and agreed and the interviewer who was surprised by your answer said that obx was one of her favourite shows too. your face immediately brightened as you watched her intently as she spoke about the show. what drew would give to have you look at him like that.

madelyn paused the video and drew knew that once everyone had left his room he was going to watch the entire video. “that’s so cool!” jd gasped. “i know right? that’s so crazy that she’s seen our show.” madison replied. but drew couldn’t bring himself to speak, he wondered what you thought of him after watching his performance. he wondered if you had the same all consuming thoughts he had about you, about him.

“i followed her when i first watched the show and she followed me back, but after seeing that clip a week ago i messaged her and we’ve been talking back and forth ever since, she’s so fucking cool, it’s insane. i think we’re friends now!” madelyn raved. “you’re friends with her?!.” drew was baffled, how was madelyn just bringing this up, she has known about his developing crush for weeks. “ah, now you want to chime in drew?” “yes, we’re friends and she’s gonna be in la when we get back so i told her she should come hang out with us, what you guys think?”

drew’s heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, he was gonna meet you. what the fuck.

thank you for all the love on the first part i’m so grateful. and for everyone who wants to be added to the tag list i’m figuring out how to do that so please be patient with me. also please send me asks about this au i would love to do like a drew starkey x actress!reader thoughts thing, but let me know what you thought of this part!

[macbethz]

Fuck it trans Vera Lynn Black icon

[tvrningout-a]

first of all, look at how cute arata is... and second of all, arata realized he wasn’t straight as a nail when yasushi, his bandmate and best friend, looked very handsome during one gig and had his heart hammering in his chest :’ ) up until that point, arata was convinced that he only liked cutesy ladies bc they always made him nervous!! made his hands get all clammy and made his words all jumbled!! but haha NOPE!!! and arata pretty much becomes a bi disaster for a period after he realizes he can fall for anyone bc he’s just nervous around anyone who’s attractive

also!! definitely shared his first kiss with yasushi, and the two of them immediately after went “...okay no that was weird nevermind-- ” bc some childhood pals aren’t meant to date and that’s okay :’ )

[mystra-midnight]

— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i

pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader

tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.

w/c: 6.7k.

a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥

"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"

The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.

You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.

Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.

But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.

Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.

That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.

"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.

"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.

Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.

"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.

"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.

"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."

"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."

As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.

You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.

As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.

You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.

When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"

Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.

It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.

The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.

He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.

As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.

The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.

You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.

The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.

You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.

You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.

He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.

It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.

You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.

The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.

"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.

"What?" 

"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"

This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.

Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.

You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.

You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.

"Think he just invited us backstage."

"What?"

You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.

But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.

The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.

"Eddie!"

Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed. 

You couldn't believe it.

There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.

"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"

"Who? Eddie?" He asked.

"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"

"What about Eddie?"

The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.

You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.

"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.

"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.

"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.

And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.

You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."

Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside. 

It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends. 

You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself. 

"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."

He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.

Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.

"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect. 

"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.

"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."

You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.

"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you. 

"Never? As in never, ever?"

At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.

And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely. 

"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."

You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.

"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"

The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.

The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.

"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.

Just you and Eddie.

"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."

He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."

You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .

You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.

"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."

You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.

Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.

Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.

He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.

"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.

He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"

Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact. 

"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.

"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.

The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.

It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.

Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.

"No one ever touched you like this?"

You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.

"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.

"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush. 

"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."

Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.

His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.

You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.

"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."

"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.

Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.

Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.

It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."

You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."

"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.

"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape. 

The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."

You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.

And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.

"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.

You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.

When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.

"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.

"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.

"Touch me. . ."

"What do good girls say?"

"Please."

You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.

Thankfully, he took pity on you. 

Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.

Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.

"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."

He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."

Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.

And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.

The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.

He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.

"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"

As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.

"Cum for me, baby."

He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.

tag list ::

@micheledawn1975 | @maxstecc

—interest in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Bakugo Katsuki

I finished this yesterday but forced myself to wait to post it due to my one part a day pattern I've had going on.

Anyways~ as I said in Shoto's part, I did make this one a bit angstier, but I hope I didn't stray too far away from the original prompt :'). It's kinda bittersweet lol but I kinda like it.

Angst to fluff/Comfort | Kinda bittersweet~ | 993 words | female reader

Warnings!: arguing, yelling, being scared of your partner, parents arguing (the kids were not present), kids being left at school (not for very long), caps, excuses, self hatred, and insulting themselves (Bakugo). Please let me know if I miss any <33

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

You both had been fighting for at least half an hour, screaming at one another for this and that. It started with Bakugo 'forgetting' to pick up your sons from school, and has now escalated into you screaming at him for not 'caring about this family' and his yelling about how hard he works for your family.

No one was totally to blame, both parties had some points that were right, and some that were wrong. But it should have never reached that point.

~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORK TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU BEGGED FOR KIDS THAT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HELP OUT MUCH! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!"

"I UNDERSTAND THAT- BUT YOU'VE HAD THREE DAYS OFF! YOU'RE FULLY RESTED- AND SHOULD'VE PICKED UP THE KIDS NO PROBLEM WHILE I WAS HELPING OUT YOUR MOM!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO! I FORGOT ABOUT IT, OKAY! AND YOU DIDN'T CALL TO REMIND ME EITHER!"

"I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH BRAINS TO REMEMBER, BUT I GUESS THAT WAS IDIOTIC OF ME!"

"I HAVE SO MUCH TO DEAL WITH BESIDES THIS BULL CRAP THAT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I WORK, YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS!"

"KATSUKI I CANNOT WATCH THE KIDS 24-7 WITHOUT YOUR HELP! I NEED BREAKS TOO! YOU HAVE TWO DAYS OFF A WEEK TO RELAX, AND CATCH UP ON SLEEP! WHILE I HAVE NIGHT TIME, BATHROOM BREAKS, RUNNING ERANDS, AND NAP TIMES TO CATCH A BREAK! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY HUSBAND TO HELP OUT WHEN HE HAS TIME OFF!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THE KIDS IN THE FIRST PLACE- WHY ARE YOU WHINING TO ME ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE CARE OF 'EM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T YOURS!? WE BOTH AGREED ON DOING THE BEST WE COULD FOR OUR KIDS, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU'D HELP OUT WHENEVER YOU COULD!"

"Y/N IT WAS THIS ONE TIME- I WAS BUSY, I FORGOT!"

"YOU WERE PLAYING GAMES ALL DAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! THAT IS NOT BUSY!"

Blazing anger filled Bakugo as he stepped towards you, planning on simply getting closer to you to somehow try and make you see his side of things. He didn't mean to forget about picking up his kids, he loves his kids, he was simply engrossed in talking about them to his friends as he gamed, totally forgetting about the time and the fact that they were at school, waiting for someone to pick them up.

In truth, Bakugo felt bad. Really bad. But you wouldn't stop, so he continued, his unwavering pride making it near impossible to simply apologize and leave the argument behind.

Storming towards you, Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks as you flinched from him, eyes holding a certain terror. Wait- did you- did you think he was going to hurt you?!

Apologies and 'are you okay's were caught in Bakugo's throat as he opened his mouth, too terrified to speak.

Y/n.. his y/n was scared..of him. HIs y/n- the person that tore him out of his 'I don't care about anything or anyone' stage. She brought him out of his dark pit of self loathing, hating himself for how weak he was, how he couldn't do anything compared to that idiot Deku. She brought light into his world, she is his light. His first and last love, his wife, his center, his other half, his partner, his reason for life, the mother of his children, his one and only lover, his queen, his everything.

And he scared her.

Screamed at her for something that was his fault.

Treated her so badly that she flinched away from him- terror filling her eyes.

Her gorgeous e/c eyes. The same eyes that his sons had inherited. Now he's brought tears to three sets of those goregous eyes. What a scum bag.

Pain seared through Bakguo as he embraced his y/n, knowing if he left now she would entirely break, thinking that he was giving up on her. On their love. When in reality, he would't be. He would never dream of leaving her, or their beautiful children.

Because no matter how much of an a-hole Bakugo may be, he would never stoop that low. Never. And so he held her, and continued to hold her as she tearfully cussed him out, telling him how much she loved him and how much of an a-hole he was for treating her like that, their kids like that.

He just held her, telling her that he was sorry, that he knew, that he would make it up to her -and their seven year old twins- somehow.

And for now, that was enough. His love, and comfort was enough as you clung to him, insulting him while telling him that you loved his idiotic self in the same sentence, telling him that you loved him too much to not be able to forgive him.

And that if he was serious about making things right, that you would help him.

Because you were Bakugo y/n*. You chose to take his name and become his wife. Bakugo has helped you through so many up and downs, so you would do the same for him. Because he truly loved you, and you truly loved him.

*Japanese last names go in front of the first name to pay respect to the family name, and that's why Kirishima and Bakugo's other classmates call him Bakugo instead of Katsuki -to pay respect to his family name-. So you would be (in Japan anyway) Bakugo y/n (if you choose to take his last name) and strangers/aquaintnesses/not so close friends and co-workers would call you Bakugo instead of y/n. Annd due to me not liking Bakugo a whole lot I call him Bakugo or Baka/Bakuhoe instead of Katuski and call Todoroki and Midoriya, Shoto and Izuku- do you get what I'm saying?? I hope you do <33

Series' masterlist | Bakahoe's Bakugou's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[suguful]

ᥫ᭡ — the media wonders why itoshi rin’s fingers have been empty these days

╰➤ gender neutral , pro athlete au

while rin has never seemed to be the sentimental type, there’s no denying the attachment he seems to have to the promise ring always sitting on the fourth finger of his left hand. the sterling silver shines proudly wherever he goes — between run-ins with paparazzi while on trips to the grocery store, press conferences before a big game, and as well as on the field itself: rin’s dedication to keeping the piece of jewelry on him at all times has garnered the notice of reporters and fans alike.

he had bought matching rings for the two of you on your second anniversary, presented to you in the confines of your bedroom. with a whisper and assurance of deep affection, rin slipped the ring on your finger before sliding on his own. a kiss to your knuckles sealed the promise laid in the piece of jewelry — a promise of sure love.

the gentle weight of silver on rin’s finger grounded him, cool and smooth and symbolizing what is only to be shared between the two of you. worn with pride, the ring has never failed to catch light in each public spotting of the famed itoshi rin.

never, until this past week.

starting with scrutiny of rin’s empty fingers during a home game, alarm bells had already started blaring through the minds of fanatics itching to get the latest update on rin’s love life as well as reporters looking to get a juicy scoop for their next story.

he probably forgot to put it on this morning, some reasoned, while others jumped the gun to decide that yes, something had indeed occurred between rin and his long time partner.

it was a day of nonsensical talk, rin had told himself, that was all. he could stomach that much.

what rin could not stomach, though, was the snowballing of such nonsense day by day. a ringless day on the field, followed by a ringless press conference the next day alongside a ringless interview a few days afterward — the people were convinced.

“this is ridiculous.” rin rubs his forehead in irritation, glowering down at the headlines plastered across his screen. he shows you his phone, expression deadpanned and tired of the turbulence of public word. you read the titles presented to you.

Breakup Rumors Circulate Pro Athlete Itoshi Rin

Itoshi Rin DUMPED?

IS IT RINOVER?

you break into a laugh, shaking your head at the silly tabloid articles. “i think it’s kinda funny, actually.”

“you’re insufferable,” rin rolls his eyes at you. “give me your hand.”

rin takes your hand in his, turning it over and cupping the front of your fingers with his. he brushes his thumb over the ring sitting on your finger — just as rin’s will on his own finger in a few day’s time — and brings it up to his mouth. he presses a tender kiss to it, just as he had done on the very first day.

“couldn’t wait one week,” he grabs his phone again, sliding open the camera app. taking a second to focus the lens on your hand in his, ring front and center, he snaps a quick picture before letting you go. “breakup rumors my ass.”

you hear your phone vibrate nearby, and you glance at the notification that had popped up on your screen.

itoshirin just posted.

“and what’s this?” you look towards rin, suspicion etched into the eyes and smile he sought to take care of.

he only shrugs at you. “took care of it.”

you tap the notification, opening up rin's post. though it had only been a few seconds, a couple thousand had already beat you to it.

alongside the photo he had just taken — poorly lit, illuminated mainly by the subtle sparkle of what could only be the matching piece to the notoriously absent ring — is a brief caption.

We’re fine. Just getting my ring cleaned.

[robintherobiner]

i forgot to post about pride month. im such a bad trans person lol so take this

Dick: Happy pride month, Alfred!

Alfred: Thank you, my dear boy, and to you aswell.

Dick: Happy pride month, Bruce!

Bruce: Thank you. Ah, that reminds me, i need to check on Wayne Enterprise's plans for the pride parade.

Dick: Happy pride month, Jason!

Jason: Oh shit is that already? Cool. Go spend this month with your speedster, hah!

Dick: Happy pride month, Cas!

Cas: Thank you! You too.

Dick: Happy pride month, Steph!

Steph: Oh my god! Me and Cas should have waited two wees before revealing our relationship, then we could've come out during pride month! Fuck. Wait, wait, pretend you don't know about me and Cas yet. Now say happy pride again, go on-

Dick: Happy pride month, Tim!

Tim: it's literally one minute past midnight, did you hunt me down during patrol just to be the first person to wish me a happy pride???

Dick: Happy pride month, Duke!

Duke: Thanks, Dick! Now can you move, i just finished patrol and I need shower to wash off all this mustard.

Dick: Happy pride month, Dami!

Damian: Yes, yes, thank you. Congratulations on finally asking out West.

[luvrxbunny]

fame

pairing: ex-bf!Eddie Munson x f!reader

summary: Eddie makes a grave mistake.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, insecurity, 'do i wanna know' (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 3.6k

a/n: a few things! Id suggest listening to the song before and/or after you read the fic! I wouldn’t suggest during because obviously it wont be on tempo. this can either be modern!Eddie or we can just pretend that “Do I Wanna Know” came out back in 1980. also idk anything abt instruments so shut up if i messed up anywhere— this is one of the worst ones ive written im sorry i just wanted to post

You and Eddie were happy. You guys got to see each other all the time since you became the lead singer of Corroded Coffin. The band supported you two going public endlessly due to the amazing on-stage chemistry you both brought to the shows. The more touchy, and lovey you guys were, the more people would come to the next show. But with this new, larger crowd came a new wave of women wanting to sleep with the hot lead guitarist, Eddie. 

You had no problem with it before. You know he wasn’t very popular in high school and it took you months to convince him that you honestly found him attractive, that you weren’t playing some practical joke, or just trying to bait him into embarrassing himself. So you were pretty happy to see all the attention he was getting, the attention he deserved. You could see his confidence rising, he would smile at the crowd more, play more impressive riffs and you’d get to watch his chest puff up in pride as the crowd uproars for him. 

But as he got more attention from the crowd, his attention was on you much less.

After shows, instead of hanging back with the rest of the band and relaxing backstage, he’d be out in front “entertaining the crowd” as he lovingly put it. It bothered you a bit because this is where you and Eddie got most of your quality time from but you would never take his little fanbase away from him so of course you never said anything. But there was this one week, gig after gig after gig. 

You got no love from Eddie on stage and assumed it was because he was too tired to put on such a show. He wasn't too tired for his guitar riffs, but you let it slide. It’s Eddie he’ll make it up to you backstage, or later than that if necessary. 

Then came time to head backstage, and Eddie didn't follow. You decided to let that slide too. He needs this interaction with his fans! He needs and craves that connection to people who are similar to him, maybe he’ll make some more friends around his age! You’d never want to do anything to stunt that. 

But three hours later, you Jeff, Gareth, and Doug aren’t in a forgiving mood anymore. You’d all joked about how once Eddie got a taste of fame he’d just leave you all behind but it’s starting to feel like less of a joke and more of a reality. 

You guys drink and complain, roll up, smoke, complain, and down a few more drinks before you all decide to take a stand. It’s a half-joke, that you’re all going to head out to the front and demand that Eddie come backstage to spend time with his band, with his girlfriend at least. The boys talk about inviting some girls backstage with them to make a party out of the whole ordeal but all those thoughts are gone and replaced with sober, solemn ones at the sight of what's happening at the front of the bar. 

Eddie’s sitting on a barstool, leaning back against the bar like he’s some god, he has his arms spread wide, resting on the bar and surrounded by women. Most of them are taking unpermitted selfies with him— not that he minds, but three women are draping themselves over him. One is at his side, sitting in a seat and resting her head on his bicep as she rambles to him and he’s listening.. intently. There’s another who’s on his other side, stroking and running her fingers through his hair, complimenting his curls, the ones you taught him to take care of. The third woman is standing between his spread legs, leaning over so that her cleavage is perfectly in his face under the guise of looking at and complimenting his necklaces. 

The smile on his face is one you’ve been missing, one you’ve been seeing less and less due to the stress of booking gigs but there it is… beaming for another girl.

Your heart stops when Eddie finally notices you guys standing on the other side of the room. You feel as though it’s about to jump out of your body and crash through the ground. Eddie pulls his arms in and pushes the girl between his legs away from him with a wide smile. “Oh. Hey, baby!” 

He’s getting up, explaining himself, and walking towards you all at once but you can’t even process what you’ve seen yet, let alone hear his bullshit explanation so you walk away. 

You turn and head backstage, already planning on packing your things and leaving. You’ll have to call an Uber because there is absolutely no way you’ll ride in the same van as him. You’re shoving your weed and rolling tray into your backpack when your head clears enough for you to listen to your surroundings again. 

You can hear Gareth and Doug scolding the girls, making them leave. You can also hear quick, sharp footsteps heading your way. Your breathing jumps and tears spring to your eyes, ones you quickly squeeze out and wipe away before Eddie comes through the door. 

You don’t look up at him, you just keep collecting your things and internally make a note to yourself not to leave your things scattered across an entire room. 

“Babe? Wait. Wait, wait you have to listen to me first.” You hold back a laugh and settle for a scoff at his statement. 

“I don't have to do anything, Ed.” His heart stops. You’ve only called him Ed once before; it was the biggest and only fight the two of you have ever had. His hands start trembling at their sides and his heart is beating roughly, rushing blood in his ears. He’s stunned to silence, watching you gather your things in a rush. 

You look around for your phone charger and spot it by the doorway, on a chair next to where Eddie is standing. He notices your gaze and quickly grabs the charger, holding it to his chest. “Listen.”

Your eyes slowly raise to meet his. He looks scared and desperate. You give him a chance. 

You put your bag down and lean against the back of the couch, staring at him and waiting for what you’re supposed to be listening to but he seems stumped. 

He didn’t have a plan or know what to say, he just needed you to stop. He tries to piece together a speech but his train of thought is disrupted by a disappointed sigh from you. “Look, Ed—”

He finally finds words. “Please don’t call me that.” His voice is strained, and you almost feel bad. 

“Why? It’s the title you deserve right now. You’re not my Eddie so I’m not going to address you like you are.” You start walking towards him, tears bubbling in your eyes despite the screaming in your head not to cry. 

“You sat there while those women laid themselves all over you, while the rest of your band, and your girlfriend sat backstage and waited for you. I’m your girlfriend. Do you realize how fucked up that is? You had me waiting and waiting for you, thinking you were just interacting with fans…” You think about how easily he fooled you. 

“I’m an idiot, huh?” You trail off, lost in your thoughts of despair. You’d always been so cautious of men, of giving your feelings, always keeping your guard up so you don’t get hurt, and the one time you decide to bring them down. 

“Okay! I’m fucked up for making you wait, I know that. I- I didn’t realize how long it’d been. I’ve been drinking a-and--” 

You cut him off. “Oh, you were drinking with them too! That’s great, Ed. Just the info I need.”

He sighs defeatedly. “I- It- But they don’t mean anything to me. They don’t! Why does it matter that I was drinking with them? It’s not like I was gonna do anything, baby. You know that.” He steps in your direction but you back away and wrap your arms around yourself. 

It breaks his fucking heart. 

“I don’t know that though, do I? Because never in a million years would I have ever thought that Eddie Munson, my boyfriend, would leave me waiting because he was entertaining other women. Do you understand? How- How nerve-wracking and shocking it was to see you out there like that?” 

You take another shaking breath as you avert your gaze from his, tears spilling from your eyes. “The worst part is that- that I believed you when you said you just wanted to interact with fans. I really— God I was even happy for you. I trusted you, Eddie. Co-Completely. You know how big that is for me and you manipulated it.”

He’s rushing towards you now, dropping your charger and taking your hands in his. “No. No, listen, I- I didn’t realize, I didn’t know it- Baby, I thought it wouldn't matter, I thought you wouldn’t care because I’m yours. We’re together so why does it matter? I- I won’t date them, I won’t fuck them, I don’t love them, baby. I love you.”

You sigh and look down at your feet, unable to watch as his eyes fill with tears. 

You wish he hadn’t said that. The first time you get to hear the words ‘I love you’ coming from his lips and it’s in a setting like this..

“Okay. I believe you, Ed, but… You broke my trust, you technically ch- cheated.” His eyes widen almost comically and as his mouth starts to shape the word ‘No’ you cut him off again. “You say you didn’t but just because you weren’t going to have sex with them doesn’t mean that you should let them all over you like that!” 

Your anger bubbles up again and you finish packing, grabbing your charger and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “You’re not that stupid, Ed. You know what you did was wrong otherwise you wouldn’t have pushed those girls off you when I showed up.” You turn to leave the room but you’re compelled to ask him one more question. 

“Did you how this makes me look? You’re supposed to be mine yet there are girls all over you. It looks like I can’t satisfy you, like I’m not enough. And you know I have shit with what. Or it looks like I’m a fucking idiot letting my boyfriend get felt up by fucking groupies while I’m in the back, none the fucking wiser.” 

His tears are spilling now, one currently streaming dramatically down his cheek. “But we- Like we don’t— You don’t have to leave me. We- I’ll be better. I love you, I don't love them I just.. I’ve never gotten attention like that.. I- I just wanted to know what it felt like.” 

You know he’s trying to get through to you, that he’s trying to explain away and excuse what he did but he’s just hurting you further. Why wasn’t my attention enough? 

“Yeah no, I figured that and um… Ed, I think we should take some time apart.” All you get from him is a badly veiled sob. 

“You can flirt around all you want and… and we’ll see if we still have anything between us by the end of it.”

It’s been a little over a month now. 

He called off band practice until further notice. 

You miss him. 

You took the first week apart to come to terms with what you had just done. It was a smart move. You’re not stable enough to let Eddie flirt around with your trust, especially since it had started behind your back. This way was better. You could take some time to yourself while Eddie does whatever he wants. You decided he could come back whenever he was ready, as long as he didn’t do anything with anyone. 

You meant what you said when you left him but you started regretting it after seeing the obvious dip in Eddie’s happiness. You’d see him in school with his head perpetually down. He doesn’t interact with you at all, he doesn't look at you on campus, he sits on the opposite side of the classroom for any class the two of you have together, and makes it a point to never turn in your direction. 

You truly wanted him to relish in the fame without any guilt on your part. You figured it’d hurt you but you wanted Eddie to be able to experience the popularity he never had before. He was supposed to take his newfound freedom and spread his wings however he wished but instead he just wallowed in what he had lost. 

You hoped he’d come to you in the third week, let you know he doesn’t want he freedom you’ve granted him and he’d beg for you back. But it never happened. You thought about going to him, letting him know that you can see him struggling and you forgive him and you guys can get back together like nothing happened. But your pride couldn’t let you. He hurt you and now he’s hurting, it's fair but you shouldn’t have to be the one to concede. 

After the fourth week, you realized your mistake. You should’ve known Eddie would never have the confidence to come back to you, to ask you for another chance, to ask you to forgive and forget his past crimes. You should’ve given him a set timeframe, you should’ve told him he was free to come back when he was ready. 

In the fifth week, Gareth called a meeting. He’d had enough of the missed practices and awkwardness amongst the band. You all responded to his email in agreement. Except Eddie. 

You thought about going over to his house before practice, just to see if he was planning on showing up, to see if he was okay. But you didn’t.

You were actually quite happy to catch up with the others. You joke about how badly all your skills have diminished without a month of practice. Doug jokes about how he mostly misses the DnD nights. As if on cue, Eddie walks in. 

He’s silent and his hair is a mess, obviously not taken care of and it breaks your heart. The room falls sadly silent as Eddie unpacks his guitar and takes a seat. You feel the tension in the room suffocating you and before you can think the action through you spit out a quiet. “Jesus, Eddie.”

The boys laugh beside you and you roll your eyes before making your way over to him. Eddie looks star-struck, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide as he stares up at you, admiring the olive branch you’re extending. 

You take in his bloodshot eyes— high, and his dark circles. Your heart clenches in your chest, recalling the various late-night calls with Eddie as he complains about his insomnia, and how he would wish you were there to soothe him.

You stand beside his chair, shake your head in teasing disapproval, and run your fingers through his roots. You sigh at the immediate tangle that meets you and lock eyes with him, a playful smirk on your lips. “Where’ve you been, Eddie?”

He sucks in a soft breath to answer before Jeff cuts him off with a loud clap. “Alright, positions everyone. What’re we practicing?” You smile at him one last time before heading for your mic. 

“We could start working on “Do I Wanna Know?” Doug suggests and Eddie immediately groans out. He is very open about his hate for the song, about how he thinks it's overplayed and has no substance. In reality, everyone knows he’s just frustrated with the chords. He always wants his hands busy and the chords to this song just aren’t stimulating enough for him, he thinks they’re “boring”.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Ed. This is what the people wanna hear.” Doug defends as he picks up his bass. You clear your throat and Gareth situates himself behind his drums. Eddie is the only one who doesn’t get in formation, staying seated across from you to your left, almost in your line of sight. You make an effort to keep your eyes forward as Gareth starts the beat, pretending you can’t feel Eddie’s eyes on you as he starts his riff. 

You do your best to keep it together as you notice how easily his hands glide across the guitar, you don’t even see him look down once. You rock in time with the drums before singing out the first line. 

It feels shaky and your voice is scratchy but you power through, the boys know you need some warm-up. Your voice evens out by the next pause and you’re starting to feel more confident. 

“Are there some aces up your sleeve?” 

You see Eddie nodding in approval in the corner and you try not to let pride bleed into your voice. 

“Have you no idea that you’re in deep?”

You look over at him to see him still watching you. 

“I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.” 

You note the recognition in his eyes before you break contact, looking back at the base of your mic stand. 

“How many secrets can you keep?”

You think about how the first time you heard this song it reminded you of Eddie. It almost perfectly encapsulated how you felt for him prior to dating, and it ironically relates to how you feel about him now. Still obsessed but too prideful to do anything about it. 

You can see Eddie still staring at you from his corner, unwavering. He always gets a little more confident with his guitar, but it’s been so long since you’ve been around him you feel stupid, like a little girl with a crush. 

Doug and Gareth come in as your backing vocals. 

“Do I wanna know?”

You take your eyes away from the mic stand and look straight ahead. 

“If this feeling flows both ways.”

You see Eddie sit up in his seat.

“Sad to see you go”

“Was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay.”

You start swaying with the beat, getting more loose, and feeling the song. You switch from foot to foot, swinging your hips gently with a smile. 

“That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

You look over at him again. 

“Crawling back to you.”

You say the next line as a genuine question, openly targeting him now. 

“Ever thought of calling when, you’ve had a few?”

You glance away from him, nervous under his penetrating stare. He hasn’t looked away from you once. You’re wondering where all this confidence was in the past few weeks. All he needed was for you to speak to him. You study his face, his reaction to the next line. 

“Maybe I’m too, busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now, I’ve thought it through. Crawlin’ back to you.”

Eddie’s hands finally rest and he leans forward in his chair, cocking one eyebrow at you as if to ask ‘Really?’ and you respond with the next line. 

“So have you got the guts?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before sitting back and adjusting his guitar strap. He runs his hands down his thighs, wiping his clammy palms on his sweatpants as he watches you perform. It’s been so long since he’s seen you, even longer since he’s seen you without it hurting his heart. He’s missed you. 

He takes you in. He notices the pink on your nails, a different shade than the last time he noticed. He can’t help but run his eyes down your body, loving the way you move to the beat, the way you’re shimmying your shoulders. His eyes focus on your lips. 

“Simmer down and pucker up”

He gets entranced with the way they form around your words. He misses feeling them on his, on him. He remembers how soft they are, how raw they get when you’ve bitten them bloody. He watches them stretch over your pearly white teeth in a smile. He can feel your eyes on him again but he can’t pull himself away from your mouth. Not even to look at his guitar as his time comes up. 

You watch Eddie pick his guitar up and start playing again, zombie-like movements as he zeros in on your lips. You try to focus on the words, to stay on key, not stutter or slip up. But Eddie's eyes snap to yours. 

“But we could be together… If you wanted to.”

He takes a deep breath after your last line, as if he was waiting to hear it, like it’s confirmation. You can’t help the smirk that your smile morphs into and Eddie looks down. It looks like he’s focusing on his chords but his eyes are closed, deep breaths filling his lungs as he tries to calm down. 

You’re sure that your performance is mediocre due to the lyrics and pitch being the last thing on your mind. You watch Eddie’s hand slide lazily across the guitar, his ringed fingers moving faster than you could comprehend without even a fraction of his attention. You ignore the pooling in your stomach and look away from him again, trying to focus on anything else. 

“Crawling back to you.” 

You pretend not to hear the smirk in Gareth's voice. You see Eddie looking up at you again in your peripherals. He sits back and adjusts himself, lifting his hips, lowering his guitar and when you glance over you can see a lip tucked under his teeth. 

“Maybe I’m too—”

You see Eddie leaning forward as he stares at you, begging for your attention so you turn to him. His eyes soften and you can see his chest heave ever so slightly. 

“-busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now, I’ve thought it through. Crawlin’ back to you.”

You go through the motions for the rest of the song. You keep eye contact with Eddie through all of it. 

Everything around you is forgotten as he looks into your eyes. You’ve missed him so much.

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist or send me some motivation here!! reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated!

[ariqueery]

So a while ago I saw a post with the coolest vintage tshirt and I instantly fell in love and decided I needed it in my life:

I searched REALLY hard for the original copyright holder to see if I could buy one, including digging up the original source of the image (the Lesbian Herstory Archives) to find out that WMP stands for WomanMade Products, and eventually stumbled across a feminist bookstore with the same name. I called expecting to get the runaround for a week and then be told they couldn’t find the creator, but she actually picked up the phone herself! Becky Bly has been in business since 1976, created this design in the early 80s, and said as long as I wasn’t selling it, I could reproduce it!

I ended up having to redraw it by hand because the original scan was skewed (there was much wailing) and got to work. Ignore how sloppy the pattern is, I fixed most of it while stitching.

I then immediately put it down and forgot about it for weeks until I realized Pride was right around the corner and frantically picked it back up. I took it with me to a roller derby match to work on during the breaks and ladies, if you haul out embroidery that says “dyke” on it at roller derby, you will IMMEDIATELY have lots of queer women talking to you. This has been Ari’s Top Tips.

I then forgot about it for another week and a half until I realized Pride was in two days and started sewing as fast as I possibly could, bruising my finger where I braced the needle. I finished it at 1:30 am the night before Pride:

This is the best thing I’ve ever done. I am obsessed with it and keep staring at it. Everyone at Pride thought it was amazing and I got SO many compliments that went straight to my head. One person at temple asked if they could commission me to make one for them and I got to say “sorry :( I only got permission to make it for myself :(” instead of “the amount of labor that went into this is going to COST you, I don’t think you want to pay that much.”

Thanks again to Becky Bly for permission to reproduce this, I am going to use this bag until it falls apart and then probably make another one lol. Go check her out if you’re interested in her work!

[raphs-rhapsody]

he's ✨serving ✨

this was a request during pride month from twitter that i forgot to post here but new actual art coming soon TRUST! from this photo: